Dekker, Thomas / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
O 'twill be excellent. But how shall we shift 'em off? Not as ill debtor do their Creditors (with good words) but as Lawyers do their Clients when their overthrown, by some new knavish trick: and thus it shall be: one of us must dissemble to be suddenly very sick. I'll be she. Nay, though we can all dissemble well, yet I'll be she: for men are so jealous, or rather envious of one another's happiness (Especially in this out of town gossipings) that he who shall miss his hen, if he be a right Cock indeed, will watch the other from treading. That's certain, I know that by myself. And like Esop's Dog, unless himself might eat hay, will lie in the manger and starve: but he'll hinder the horse from eating any: besides it will be as good as a Welsh hook for you to keep out the other at the staves end: for you may boldly stand upon this point, that unless every man's heels may be tripped up, you scorn to play at football. That's certain: peace I hear them spitting after their Tobacco. A chair, a chair, one of you keep as great a coil and calling, and as if you ran for a midwife: th'other hold my head: whilst I cut my lace. Passion of me? master Monopoly, master Linstocke and you be men, help to daw mistress Tenterhook: O quickly, quickly, she's sick and taken with an Agony. Sick? How? how now? what's the matter? Sweet Clare call up thy spirits. O master Monopoly, my spirits will not comet a my calling, I am terrible and Ill: Sure, sure, I'm struck with some wicked planet, for it hit my very heart: Oh I feel myself worse and worse. Some burnt Sack for her good wenches: or possit drink, pox a this Rogue chamberlain, one of you call him: how her pulses beat: a draft of cinnamon water now for her, were better than two tankards out of the Thames: how now? Ha. Ill, ill, ill, ill, ill. I'm accursed to spend money in this Town of iniquity: there's no good thing ever comes out of it: and it stands upon such musty ground, by reason of the River, that I cannot see how a tender woman can do well in't, 'sfoot? Sick now? cast down now 'tis come to the push. My mind misgives me that als not sound at London. Pox on 'em that be not sound, what need that touch you? I fear you'll never carry me thither. Puh, puh, say not so. Pray let my clothes be utterly undone, and then lay me in my bed. Walk up and down a little. O master Lynstock, 'tis no walking will serve my turn: have me to bed good sweet Mistress Honisuckle, I doubt that old Hag Gillian of Brainford has bewitched me.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O twill be excellent. But how shall we shift em off? Not as ill debters do their Creditors (with good wordes) but as Lawyers do their Clyents when their ouerthrown, by some new knauish tricke: and thus it shall bee: one of vs must dislemble to be suddenly very sick. Ile be she. Nay, tho we can all dissemble well, yet Ile be she: for men are so iealous, or rather enuious of one anothers happinesse (Especially in this out of towne gssipings) that he who shall misse his hen, if hee be a right Cocke ndeede, will watch the other from treading. Thats certaine, I know that by my selfe. And like Esops Dog, vnlesse himselfe might eate hay, wil lie in the manger and starue: but heele hinder the horse from eating any: besides it will be as good as a Welch hooke for you to keepe out the other at the Staues end: for you may boldly stand vppon this point, that vnlese euery mans heeles may bee tript vp, you score to play at football. Thats certaine peace I heare them spitting after their Tobacco. A chaire, a chaire, one of you keepe as great a coyle and calling, and as if you ran for a midwife: tho'ther holde y head: whylst I cut my lace. Passion of me? maister Monopoly, maister Linstock and you be men, help to daw mistris Tenterhooke: O quickly, quickly, shees sicke and taken with an Agony. Sick? How? how now? whats the matter? Sweete Clare call vp thy spirits. O maister Monoply, my spirits will not comet a my calling, I am terrible and Ill: Sure, sure, I'me struck with some wicked planet, for it my very hart: Oh I feele my selfe worse and worse. Some burnt Sack for her good wenche: or possit drink, poxe a this Rogue Chamberlin, one of you call him: how her pulses beate: a draught of Cynamon water now for her, were better than two Tankerdes out of the Thames: how now? Ha. Ill, ill, ill, ill, ill. I'me accurst to spend mony in this Towne of iniquity: theres no good thing euer comes out of it: and it stands vppon such musty ground, by reason of the Riuer, that I cannot see how a tender woman can do well int, Sfoot? Sick now? cast down now tis come to the push. My mind misgiues me that als not sound at London. Poxe on em that be not sounde, what need that touch you? I feare youle neuer carry me thither. Puh, puh, say not so. Pray let my cloathes be vtterly vndone, and then lay mee in my bed. Walke vp and downe a little. O maister Lynstock, tis no walking will serue my turne: haue me to bed good sweete Mistris Honisuckle, I doubt that olde Hag Gillian of Braineford has bewitcht me.