Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
'las, good sir! Would you had never seen her. Nay, would thou Hadst never told me of her. Sir, 'tis true; I do confess, I was unfortunate, And you unhappy: but I'm bound in conscience, No less than duty, to effect my best To your release of torment, and I will, sir. Dear MOSCA, shall I hope? Sir, more than dear, I will not bid you to despair of aught, Within a human compass. O, there spoke My better Angel. MOSCA, take my keys, Gold, plate, and jewels, all's at thy devotion; Employ them, how thou wilt; nay, coin me, too: So thou, in this, but crown my longings. MOSCA? Use but your patience. So I have. I doubt not To bring success to your desires. Nay, then, I not repent me of my late disguise. If you can horn him, sir, you need not. True: Besides, I never meant him for my heir. Is not the colour o' my beard, and eyebrows, To make me known? No jot. I did it well. So well, would I could follow you in mine, With half the happiness; and, yet, I would Escape your epilogue. But, were they gulled With a belief, that I was SCOTO? Sir, SCOTO himself could hardly have distinguished! I have not time to flatter you, now, we'll part: And, as I prosper, so applaud my art. DEath of mine honour, with the City's fool? A juggling, tooth-drawing, prating mountebank? And, at a public window? where whilst he, With his strained action, and his dole of faces, To his drug-lecture draws your itching ears, A crew of old, unmarried, noted lechers, Stood leering up, like satires: and you smile, Most graciously! and fan your favours forth, To give your hot spectator's satisfaction! What, was your mountebank their call? their whistle? Or were you enamoured on his copper rings? His saffron jewel, with the toadstone in't? Or his embroidered suit, with the cope-stitch, Made of a hearse-cloth? or his old tilt-feather? Or his starched beard? well! you shall have him, yes. He shall come home, and minister unto you The fricace, for the mother. Or, let me see, I think, you had rather mount? would you not mount? Why, if you'll mount, you may; yes truly, you may: And so, you may be seen, down to th' foot. Get you a cittern, lady vanity, And be a dealer, with the virtuous man; Make one: I'll but protest myself a cuckold, And save your dowry. I am a Dutchman, I! For, if you thought me an Italian, You would be damned, ere you did this, you whore: thou'dst tremble, to imagine, that the murder Of father, mother, brother, all thy race, Should follow, as the subject of my justice! Good sir, have patience! What couldst thou propose Less to thyself, then, in this heat of wrath, And stung with my dishonour, I should strike This steel unto thee, with as many stabs, As thou wert gazed upon with goatish eyes?
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)
'Lasse, good sir! Would you had neuer seene her. Nay, would thou Had'st neuer told me of her. Sir, 'tis true; I doe confesse, I was vnfortunate, And you vnhappy: but I'am bound in conscience, No lesse then duty, to effect my best To your release of torment, and I will, sir. Deare MOSCA, shall I hope? Sir, more then deare, I will not bid you to despaire of ought, Within a humane compasse. O, there spoke My better Angell. MOSCA, take my keyes, Gold, plate, and iewells, all's at thy deuotion; Employ them, how thou wilt; nay, coyne me, too: So thou, in this, but crowne my longings. MOSCA? Vse but your patience. So I haue. I doubt not To bring successe to your desires. Nay, then, I not repent me of my late disguise. If you can horne him, sir, you need not. True: Besides, I neuer meant him for my heire. Is not the colour o' my beard, and eye-browes, To make me knowne? No iot. I did it well. So well, would I could follow you in mine, With halfe the happinesse; and, yet, I would Escape your epilogue. But, were they gull'd With a beliefe, that I was SCOTO? Sir, SCOTO himselfe could hardly haue distinguish'd! I haue not time to flatter you, now, wee'll part: And, as I prosper, so applaud my art. DEath of mine honour, with the cities foole? A iuggling, tooth-drawing, prating mountebanke? And, at a publike windore? where whil'st he, With his strain'd action, and his dole of faces, To his drug-lecture drawes your itching eares, A crue of old, vn-marri'd, noted lechers, Stood leering vp, like Satyres: and you smile, Most graciously! and fan your fauours forth, To giue your hot spectators satisfaction! What, was your mountebanke their call? their whistle? Or were you' enamour'd on his copper rings? His saffron iewell, with the toade-stone in't? Or his imbroidred sute, with the cope-stitch, Made of a herse-cloth? or his old tilt-feather? Or his starch'd beard? well! you shall haue him, yes. He shall come home, and minister vnto you The fricace, for the moother. Or, let me see, I thinke, you' had rather mount? would you not mount? Why, if you'll mount, you may; yes truely, you may: And so, you may be seene, downe to' th'foot. Get you a citterne, lady vanitie, And be a dealer, with the vertuous man; Make one: I'le but protest my selfe a cuckold, And saue your dowrie. I am a Dutchman, I! For, if you thought me an Italian, You would be damn'd, ere you did this, you whore: Thou'ldst tremble, to imagine, that the murder Of father, mother, brother, all thy race, Should follow, as the subiect of my iustice! Good sir, haue patience! What coul'dst thou propose Lesse to thy selfe, then, in this heat of wrath, And stung with my dishonour, I should strike This steele vnto thee, with as many stabs, As thou wert gaz'd vpon with goatish eyes?