Jonson, Ben · published 1609 · first performed or written 1597 [1597-1598; interpolations later] (Annals) comedy · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
No my Lord. No my Lord, I shall have shortly all my family Speak nought, but no my Lord, where is Christophero, Look how he stands, you sleepy knave, What is he not in the Garden? No my good Lord. Your good Lord, o how this smells of fennel. You have been in the garden it appears, well, well. We cannot find him my Lord. He is not in the armoury. He is not, he is nowhere, is he? Count Ferneze. signor. Preserve your patience honourable Count. Patience? a Saint would lose his patience to be crossed, As I am with a sort of motley brains, See see, how like a nest of Rooks they stand, Gaping on one another! now Diligence, what news bring you? An't please your honour. Tut, tut, leave pleasing of my honour Diligence, you double with we, come. How: does he find fault with Please his Honour. S'wounds it has begun a serving man's speech, ever since I belonged to the blue order: I know not how it may show, now I am in black, but— What's that, you mutter sir? will you proceed? An't like your good Lordship. Yet more; Gods precious. What, do not this like him neither? What say you sir knave? Mary I say your Lordship were best to set me to school again, to learn how to deliver a message. What do you take exceptions at me then. Exception? I take no exceptions, but by Gods so your humours— Go to you are a Rascal, hold your tongue. Your Lordship's poor servant, I. Tempt not my patience. Why I hope I am no spirit, am I? My Lord, command your Steward to correct the slave. Correct him, 'sblood come you and correct him and you have a mind to it, correct him, that's a good jest i'faith, the Steward and you both, come and correct him. Nay see, away with him, pull his cloth over his ears. Cloth? tell me of your cloth, here's your cloth, nay and I mourn a minute longer, I am the rottenest Onion that ever spoke with a tongue. What call your hinds count Ferneze? His name is Onion signor, I thought him some such saucy companion. signor Maxmilian. Sweet Lord. Let me entreat you, you would not regard Any contempt flowing from such a spirit, So rude, so barbarous. Most noble Count under your favour— Why I'll tell you signor, he'll bandy with me word for word, nay more, Put me to silence, strike me perfect dumb; And so amaze me, that oftentimes I know not, Whether to check or cherish his presumption: Therefore good signor. Sweet Lord satisfy yourself, I am not now to learn how to manage my affections, I have observed, and know the difference between a base wretch and a true man, I can distinguish them, the property of the wretch is, he would hurt and cannot, of the man, he can hurt, and will not.
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)
No my Lord. No my Lord, I ſhall haue ſhortly all my family Speake nought, but no my Lord, where is Chriſtophero, Looke how he ſtands, you ſleep y knaue, What is he not in the Garden? No my good Lord. Your good Lord, ô how this ſmels of fennell. You haue bene in the garden it appeares, well, well. We cannot find him my Lord. He is not in the armory. He is not, he is no where, is he? Count Ferneze. Signior. Preſerue your patience honorable Count. Patience? a Saint would looſe his patience to be croſt, As I am with a ſort of motly braines, See ſee, how like a neſt of Rookes they ſtand, Gaping on one another! now Diligence, what news bring you? Ant pleaſe your honour. Tut, tut, leaue pleaſing of my honour Diligence, you double with we, come. How: does he find fault with Pleaſe his Honour. S'wounds it has begun a ſeruing mans ſpeech, euer ſince I belongd to the blew order: I know not how it may ſhew, now I am in blacke, but— Whats that, you mutter ſir? will you proceed? Ant like your good Lordſhip. Yet more; Gods precious. What, do not this like him neither? What ſay you ſir knaue? Mary I ſay your Lordſhip were beſt to ſet me to ſchoole againe, to learne how to deliuer a meſſage. What do you take exceptions at me then. Exception? I take no exceptions, but by Gods ſo your humours— Go to you are a Raskall, hold your tongue. Your Lordſhips poore ſeruant, I. Tempt not my patience. Why I hope I am no ſpirit, am I? My Lord, command your Steward to correct the ſlaue. Correct him, S'bloud come you and correct him and you haue a minde to it, correct him, that's a good ieſt I faith, the Steward and you both, come and correct him. Nay ſee, away with him, pull his cloth ouer his eares. Cloth? tell me of your cloth, here's your cloth, nay and I mourne a minute longer, I am the rotteneſt Onion that euer ſpake with a tongue. What call your hind's count Ferneze? His name is Onion Signior, I thought him ſome ſuch ſawcy companion. Signior Maximillian. Sweet Lord. Let me intreat you, you would not regard Any contempt flowing from ſuch a ſpirit, So rude, ſo barbarous. Moſt noble Count vnder your fauour— Why Ile tell you Signior, Heele bandy with me word for word, nay more, Put me to ſilence, ſtrike me perfect dumb; And ſo amaze me, that oftentimes I know not, Whether to check or cheriſh his preſumption: Therefore good Signior. Sweet Lord ſatisfie your ſelfe, I am not now to learn how to manage my affections, I haue obſeru'd, and know the difference betweene a baſe wretch and a true man, I can diſtinguiſh them, the property of the wretch is, he would hurt and cannot, of the man, he can hurt, and will not.