Middleton, Thomas · published 1608 · first performed or written 1606 [1604-1607] (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) T41 Household service: masters, doors and po typicality 0.85 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Sir Bounteous good morrow, I would give you my hand sir, but I cannot come at it; is this the courtesy a'th' country sir Bounteous? Your Lordship grieves me more than all my loss; 'tis the unnatural'st sight that can be found, To see a noble gentleman hard-bound. Trust me, I thought you had been better beloved sir Bounteous; but I see you have enemies sir, and your friends fare the worse for 'em: I like your talk better than your lodging; I near lay harder in a bed of down; I have had a mad night's rest on't: can you not guess what they should be Sir Bounteous? Faith Lincolnshire men my Lord. How? fie, fie, believe it not sir, these lie not far off I warrant you. Think you so my Lord? I'll be burnt & they do, some that use to your house sir, and are familiar with all the conveyances. This is the commodity of keeping open house my Lord, that makes so many shut their doors about dinner time. They were resolute villains, I made myself known to 'em, told 'em what I was; gave 'em my honourable word not to disclose 'em. O saucy unmannerly villains! And think you the slaves would trust me upon my word? They would not? Forsooth no, I must pardon 'em, they told me Lords promises were mortal, and commonly die within half an hour after they are spoken; they were but gristles, and not one amongst a hundred come to any full growth, or perfection, and therefore though I were a L. I must enter into bond. Insupportable Rascals. Troth I'm of that mind Sir Bounteous you fared the worse for my coming hither. Ah good my Lord, but I'm sure your Lordship fared the worse. Pray pity not me sir. Is not your honour sore about the brawn of the arm? a murrain meet 'em, I feel it. About this place Sir Bounteous? You feel as it were a twinge my Lord? ay, e'en a twinge, you say right. A pox discover 'em, that twinge I feel too. But that which disturbs me most Sir Bounteous lies here. True, about the wrist, a kind of Tumid numbness. You say true Sir. The Reason of that my Lord is, the pulses had no play. Mass so I guessed it. A mischief swell 'em, for I feel that to. 'slid her's a house haunted indeed. A word with you sir. How now Singlestone? I'm sorry my Lord your Lordship has lost. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup. What have I lost? speak? A good night's sleep say. Speak, what have I lost I say? A good nights sleep my Lord, nothing else. Curtains drawn That's true, my cloth's come. My Lords clothes, his honour's rising. Hist, well said, come hither, what has my Lord lost, tell me, speak softly? His Lordship must know that Sir. Hush, prithee tell me. 'twill do you no pleasure to know't Sir.
seed 43: T27 · seed 44: T21 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sir Bounteous good morrow, I would giue you my hand ſir, but I cannot come at it; is this the curteſie a'th countrie ſir Bounteous? Your Lordſhip grieues me more then al my loſſe; Tis the vnnatural'ſt ſight that can be found, To ſee a noble gentleman hard-bound. Truſt me, I thought you had beene better belou'd ſir Bounteous; but I ſee you haue enemies ſir, and your friends fare the worſe for em: I like your talke better then your lodging; I nere lay harder in a bedde of Downe; I haue had a madde nights reſt on't: can you not geſle what they ſhould be Sir Bounteous? Faith Lincolneſhire men my Lord. How? fie, fie, beleeue it not ſir, theſe lie not far off I warrant you. Thinke you ſo my Lord? I'le be burnt & they doe, ſome that vſe to your houſe ſir, and are familiar with all the couneiances. This is the commoditie of keeping open houſe my Lord, that makes ſo many ſhut their doores about dinner time. They were reſolute villaines, I made my ſelfe knowne to e'm, told e'm what I was; gaue e'm my honorable word not to diſcloſe e'm. O ſawcie vnmannerly villaines! And thinke you the ſlaues would truſt me vpon my word? They would not? Forſooth no, I muſt pardon e'm, they told mee Lords promiſes were mortal, and commonly die within halfe an houre after they are ſpoken; they were but griſtles, and not one amongſt a hundred come to any full groth, or perfection, and therefore tho I were a L. I muſt enter into bond. Inſupportable Raſcals. Troth Im'e of that mind Sir Bounteous you far'd the worſe for my coming hither. Ah good my Lord, but Im'e ſure your Lordſhip far'd the worſe. Pray pittie not me ſir. Is not your honour ſore about the brawne of the arme? a murren meete e'm, I feele it. About this place Sir Bounteous? You feele as it were a twinge my Lord? I, ee'n a twinge, you ſay right. A pox diſcouer e'm, that twinge I feele too. But that which diſturbs mee moſt Sir Bounteous lies here. True, about the wriſt, a kind of Tumid numnes. You ſay true Sir. The Reaſon of that my Lord is, the pulſes had no play. Maſſe ſo I geſt it. A miſchiefe ſwell e'm, for I feele that to. Sli'd her's a houſe haunted indeed. A word with you ſir. How now Singleſtone? Im'e ſorry my Lord your Lordſhip has loſt. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup. What haue I loſt? ſpeake? A good nights ſleepe ſay. Speake, what haue I loſt I ſay? A good nights ſleepe my Lord, nothing elſe. Curtens drawn That's true, my cloth's come. My Lords cloth's, his honor's riſing. Hiſt, well ſaid, come hither, what ha's my Lord loſt, tell mee, ſpeake ſoftly? His Lordſhip muſt know that Sir. Huſh, prethee tell mee. T'will doe you no pleaſure to know't Sir.