Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
My advocate is dumb, look to my merchant, He has heard of some strange storm, a ship is lost, He faints: my lady will swoon. Old glazen-eyes, He hath not reached his despair, yet. All these Are out of hope, I am sure the man. But, MOSCA— Two cabinets— Is this in earnest? One Of ebony.— Or, do you but delude me? The other, mother of pearl— I am very busy. Good faith, it is a fortune thrown upon me— Item, one salt of agate— not my seeking. Do you hear, sir? A perfumed box— 'pray you forbear, You see I am troubled— made of an onyx— How! Tomorrow, or next day, I shall be at leisure, To talk with you all. Is this my large hopes issue? Sir, I must have a fairer answer. Madame! marry, and shall: 'pray you, fairly quit my house. Nay, raise no tempest with your looks; but, hark you: Remember, what your ladyship offered me, To put you in, an heir; go to, think on't. And what you said, e'en your best madames did For maintenance, and, why not you? enough. Go home, and use the poor sir POL, your knight, well; For fear I tell some riddles: go, be melancholic. O, my fine devil! MOSCA, 'pray you a word. Lord! will not you take your dispatch hence, yet? methinks (of all) you should have been th'example. Why should you stay, here? with what thought? what promise? Hear you, do not you know, I know you an ass? And, that you would, most feign, have been a wittol, If fortune would have let you? that you are A declared cuckold, on good terms? this pearl, You'll say, was yours? right: this diamant? I'll not deny't, but thank you. Much here, else? It may be so. Why, think that these good works May help to hide you bad: I'll not betray you, Although you be but extraordinary, And have it only in title, it sufficeth. Go home, be melancholic too, or mad. Rare, MOSCA! how his villainy becomes him! Certain, he doth delude all these, for me. MOSCA, the heir? O, his four eyes have found it! I am cozened, cheated, by a parasite-slave; Harlot, thouhast guled me. Yes, sir. Stop your mouth, Or I shall draw the only tooth, is left. Are not you he, that filthy covetous wretch, With the three legs, that here, in hope of prey, Have, any time this three year, snuffed about, With your most grovelling nose; and would have hired Me to the poisoning of my patron? sir? Are not you he, that have, today, in court, Professed the disinheriting of your son? Perjured yourself? Go home, and die, and stink; If you but croak a syllable, all comes out: Away and call your porters, go, go, stink. Excellent varlet! Now, my faithful MOSCA, I find thy constancy. Sir? Sincere. A table Of porphyry— I mar'le, you'll be thus troublesome.
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)
My aduocate is dumbe, looke to my merchant, Hee has heard of some strange storme, a ship is lost, He faints: my lady will swoune. Old glazen-eyes, He hath not reach'd his dispaire, yet. All these Are out of hope, I' am sure the man. But, MOSCA— Two cabenets— Is this in earnest? One Of ebony.— Or, do you but delude me? The other, mother of pearle—I am very busie. Good faith, it is a fortune throwne vpon me — Item, one salt of agat — not my seeking. Do you heare, sir? A perfum'd boxe—'pray you forbeare, You see I am troubled—made of an onyx— How! Tomorrow, or next day, I shall be at leasure, To talke with you all. Is this my large hopes issue? Sir, I must haue a fayrer answer. Madame! Mary, and shall: 'pray you, fairely quit my house. Nay, raise no tempest with your lookes; but, harke you: Remember, what your ladiship offred me, To put you in, an heire; goe to, thinke on't. And what you said, eene your best madames did For maintenance, and, why not you? inough. Goe home, and vse the poore sir POL, your knight, well; For feare I tell some riddles: go, be melancholique. O, my fine diuell! MOSCA, 'pray you a word. Lord! will not you take your dispatch hence, yet? Me thinkes (of all) you should haue beene th'example. VVhy should you stay, here? with what thought? what promise? Heare you, doe not you know, I know you an asse? And, that you would, most faine, haue beene a wittoll, If fortune would haue let you? that you are A declar'd cuckold, on good termes? this pearle, You'll say, was yours? right: this diamant? I'le not deny't, but thanke you. Much here, else? It may be so. VVhy, thinke that these good works May helpe to hide you bad: I'le not betray you, Although you be but extraordinary, And haue it onely in title, it sufficeth. Go home, be melancholique too, or mad. Rare, MOSCA! how his villany becomes him! Certaine, he doth delude all these, for me. MOSCA, the heire? O, his foure eyes haue found it! I' am cosen'd, cheated, by a parasite-slaue; Harlot, t'hast gul'd me. Yes, sir. Stop your mouth, Or I shall draw the onely tooth, is left. Are not you he, that filthy couetous wretch, Wih the three legges, that here, in hope of prey, Haue, any time this three yeere, snuft about, With your most grou'ling nose; and would haue hir'd Me to the pois'ning of my patron? sir? Are not you he, that haue, to day, in court, Profess'd the dis-inheriting of your sonne? Periur'd your selfe? Go home, and die, and stinke; If you but croake a sillable, all comes out: Away and call your porters, go, go, stinke. Excellent varlet! Now, my faithfull MOSCA, I finde thy constancie. Sir? Sincere. A table Of porphiry—I mar'le, you'll be thus troublesome.