Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
Nay I'll be matchless for a carkanet, Whose Pearls and Diamonds placed with ruly rocks Shall circle this fair neck to set it forth, Well Goldsmith, now you may begone.— tailor, I'll have a purfled Robe, loose boddied-wise. That shall enjoy my jewels maidenhead. The loosest bodies are in fashion most, We better know what likes us best, than you, Let me have flaring fashions, tuck't and pinned That powerful winds may heave it all a-huff, True measure of my body shallbe ta'en, Plain dealing is the best when all is done, That fall Pride taught us when we first begun. I'll have a rich embossed embroidery, On which invaluable precious Robe, I'll hang the glorious brightness of my Globe. Mistress Pinckanie is my new ruff done? Believe me Madam 'tis but new begun. Let pinching city-dames o'ercloud their Eyes, Our breasts lie forth like conduits of delight Able to 'tice the nicest appetite, Mistress pinkany, shall I have this Fan, Madam not this week do what I can, Pleasure as bondslave, to our wills is tied, We Ladies cannot be defamed with Pride, Come, let's have a play, let poor slaves prate Rank pride in meanest sort, in us is state, Remember promise mistress Pinkanie. Well Ladies, though with work I am oppressed, Workwomen always live by doing, best. Chrisoganus' faith what's the lowest price, You know as well as I; ten pound a play. Our company's hard of hearing of that side, And will not this book pass, alas for pride, I hope to see you starve and storm for books, And in the dearth of rich invention, When sweet smooth lines are held for precious Then will you fawn and crouch to Poesy, Not while goosequillian Posthast holds his pen. Will not our own stuff serve the multitude? Write on, cry on, yawl to the common sort Of thickskinned auditors: such rotten stuffs, More fit to fill the paunch of Esquiline, Then feed the hearings of judicial ears, Ye shades triumph, while foggy Ignorance Clouds bright Apollo's beauty: Time will clear, The misty dullness of Spectators Eeys, Then woeful hisses to your fopperies, O age when every Scriveners boy shall dip? Profaning quills into Thessalia's Spring, When every artist prentice that hath read The pleasant pantry of conceits, shall dare, To write as confident as Hercules. When every Ballad-monger boldly writes: And windy forth of bottle-ale doth fill Their purest organ of invention: Yet all applauded and puffed up with pride, Swell in conceit, and load the Stage with stuff, raked from the rotten embers of stall jests: Which basest lines best please the vulgar sense Make truest rapture lose pre-eminence. The fellow doth talk like one that can talk, Is this the well-learned man Chrissganus, He beats the Air the best that ere I heard, Ye scraps of wit, base Echoes to our voice, Take heed ye stumble not with stalking high? Though fortune reels with strong prosperity. Farewell the Muses, poor Poet adieu, When we have needed may be we'll send for you.
seed 43: T5 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nay Ile be matchlesse for a carckanet, Whose Pearles and Diamonds plac'd with ruly rocks Shall circle this faire necke to set it forth, Well Goldsmith, now you may begone.—Taylour, Ile haue a purfled Roabe, loose boddied-wise. That shall enioy my iewells may denhead. The loosest bodies are in fashion most, We better know what likes vs best, then you, Let me haue flaring fashions, tuck't and pinn'd That powerfull winds may heaue it all a huffe, True measure of my body shalbe tane, Plaine dealing is the best when all is done, That fall Pride taught vs when we first begun. Ile haue a rich imbost imbrothery, On which invaluable pretious Roabe, Ile hang the glorious brightnesse of my Globe. Mistresse Pinckanie is my new ruffe done? Beleeue me Madam tis but new begun. Let pinching citty-dames orecloud their Eies, Our brests lie forth like conduicts of delight Able to tice the nicest appetite, Mistresse Pinckanie, shall I haue this Fanne, Maddam not this weeke doe what I can, Pleasure as bondslaue, to our wills is tyed, We Ladies cannot be defam'd with Pride, Come, let's haue a play, let poore slaues prate Ranck pride in meanest sort, in vs is state, Remember promise mistres Pinkanie. Well Ladies, though with worke I am opprest, Workewomen alwaies liue by doing, best. Chrisoganus faith what's the lowest price, You know as well as I; tenne pound a play. Our Companie's hard of hearing of that side, And will not this booke passe, alasse for pride, I hope to see you starue and storme for bookes, And in the dearth of rich inuention, When sweet smooth lines are held for pretious Then will you fawne and crouch to Poesie, Not while goosequillian Posthast holds his pen. Will not our owne stuffe serue the multitude? VVrite on, crie on, yawle to the common sort Of thickskin'd auditours: such rotten stuffs, More fit to fill the pauneh of Esquiline, Then feed the hearings of iudiciall eares, Yee shades tryumphe, while foggy Ignorance Clouds bright Apollos beauty: Time will cleere, The misty dullnesse of Spectators Eeys, Then wofull hisses to your fopperies, O age when euery Scriueners boy shall dippe? Prophaning quills into Thessaliaes Spring, When euery artist prentice that hath read The pleasant pantry of conceipts, shall dare, To write as confident as Hercules. When euery Ballad-monger boldly writes: And windy forth of bottle-ale doth fill Their purest organ of inuention: Yet all applauded and puft vp with pryde, Swell in conceit, and load the Stage with stuffe, Rakt from the rotten imbers of stall iests: Which basest lines best please the vulgar sence Make truest rapture lose preheminence. The fellow doth talke like one that can talke, Is this the well-learn'd man Chrissganus, He beats the Ayre the best that ere I heard, Yee scrappes of wit, base Ecchoes to our voice, Take heed yee siumble not with stalking hie? Though fortune reeles with strong prosperity. Farwell the Muses, poore Poet adiew, When we haue need't may be weele send for you.