Armin, Robert · published 1609 · first performed or written 1606 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Now Iohn, i'll cry first. And i'll cry lag. I was in hobly's hole. I ha' won this Iohn, now for another. I'll hate again will I will ô. What's the matter, making my sweet lamb cry? Come Iohn we must to London, on with your clean muckender, and take leave of sir William and his Lady. God's me your point, where is it Iohn? The crow has it, and did win it at counter hole. I'll whip ye for it, take him up, lose your point lamb, fie, up with him sirrah. Good Nurse now, no more truly o, o Where's this suck-egg, where's Iack a boy: Come ye movable matron, where's this tuggage, away away. I'll take leave of S. William and go away. Now my Iohn juggler, your nose is like Lothbery conduit, that always runs waste. What's his name Iohn? Sternigogilus, ha, ha. What? A goggle eye, a wanton eye, a madcap, so a means. Wat? Hollo. Trim boat. turn head, we're at hand mushroom, We come boy, we come. Come Iohn, our leave is taken. Have o'er the sea to florida, and was not good King Salomon, Tom Tyler. O well sung Nightingale, a board a board there, ha rip there. Boy, you understand me, though the liquour have rinsed me, remember your business boy. Yes master. 'tis rare to be a tinker boy, work enough, wench enough, and drink enough, is't not boy? I Master. Boy where shall's have doings, I'll clout any woman's cauldrons, boy. Master, tincke on 'tis time, for we ha' near a penny. Pawn budget boy, I'll ring in boy, hay any work for a tinker, a ti, ti, tinker. By my maidenhead 'tis he, the merry tinker of Twitnam boy, is't not? Yes flower i'th' frying pan, he stops holes well, 'tis he, Has his old songs still, has he not? Yes, and new to boot. And be not these tinker's knaves? upon their backs they bear a long pick, with a staff i'th' end, He shall ha' work, I'll break way for him, and Call out the gentlewoman to hear him sing. Let them all say what they can dainty come thou to me. We shall ha' work master. Draw boy, homo armatus, boy, I'll pepper your pans, Where's my dog boy? your Dame has him, and will meet you at Putney. Indeed what's a tinker with out's wench, staff and dog. Is this the tinker you talk on? I madame of Twitnam, I have seen him lick out burning fire brands with's tongue, drink two pence from the bottom of a full pottle of ale, fight with a Masty, & stroke his moustaches with his bloody bitten fist, and sing as merrily as the soberest chorister. Come tinker, stop, mend. I'll tickle your holes. he's out of tune for singing now. Out of tune and temper too, thus can dainty liquour do. Sing boy.
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)
Now Iohn, i'le cry first. And i'le cry lagge. I was in hoblies hole. I ha won this Iohn, now for another. I'le hate againe will I will ô. What's the matter, making my sweet lambe cry? Come Iohn we must to London, on with your cleane muckender, and take leaue of sir William and his Lady. Gods me your point, where is it Iohn? The crow has it, and did win it at counter hole. I'le whip ye for it, take him vp, loose your point lambe, fie, vp with him sirha. Good Nurse now, no more truly ô, ô Where's this suck-egge, wheres Iack a boy: Come ye moueable matron, wheres this tugegge, away away. Ile take leaue of S. William and go away. Now my Iohn iuggler, your nose is like Lothbery conduit, that alwaies runs waste. Whats his name Iohn? Sternigogilus, ha, ha. What? Agoggle eye, a wanton eye, a madcap, so a meanes. Wat? Hollo. Trim boat. turne head, we're at hand muschrumpe, We come boy, we come. Come Iohn, our leaue is taken. Haue ore the sea to florida, and was not good King Salomon, Tom Tyler. O well sung Nightingale, a boord a boord there, ha rip there. Boy, you vnderstand me, though the liquor haue renst me, remember your businesse boy. Yes master. Tis rare to be a tinker boy, worke inough, wench inough, and drinke inough, is't not boy? I Maister. Boy where shal's haue doings, Ile clout any womans cauldren, boy. Master, tincke on tis time, for we ha nere a penny. Pawne budget boy, Ile ring in boy, haye any worke for a tinker, a ti, ti, tinker. By my maiden-head tis hee, the merry tinker of Twitnam boy, is't not? Yes flowre it'h frying pan, he stops holes well▪ tis he, Has his old songs still, has he not? Yes, and new to boote. And be not these tinkers knaues? vpon their backs they beare a long picke, with a staffe it'h end, He shall ha worke, Ile breake way for him, and Call out the gentlewoman to heare him sing. Let them all say what they can dainty come thou to me. We shall ha worke maister. Draw boy, homo armatus, boy, Ile pepper your pans, Where's my dogge boy? your Dame has him, and will meete you at Putney. Indeede whats a tinker with out's wench, staffe and dogge. Is this the tinker you talke on? I madame of Twitnam, I haue seene him licke out burning fire brands with's tongue, drinke two pense from the bottome of a full pottle of ale, fight with a Masty, & stroke his mustachoes with his bloody bittē fist, and sing as merrily as the sobrest Querester. Come tinker, stop, mend. Ile tickle your holes. Hee's out of tune for singing now. Out of tune and temper too, thus can dainty liquor do. Sing boy.