Barry, Lording · published 1611 · first performed or written 1608 [1608-1610(?)] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
No doubt, no doubt. A sirrah has aborne the wench away, My son i'faith, my very son i'faith, When I was young and had an able back, And wore the bristle on my upper lip, In good Decorum I had as good conveyance, And could have fred, and ferked y'away a wench, As soon as ever a man alive; tut boy, I had my winks, my becks treads on the toe, Wrings by the fingers, smiles and other quirks, No Courtier like me, your Courtiers all are fools, To that which I could do, I could have done it boy. even to a hare, and that some Ladies know, Sir I am glad this match may reconcile, Your love unto my brother. 'tis more than so. I'll seem offended still though I am glad, Has got rich Somerfield's heir. Come wench of gold, For thou shalt get me gold, besides odd ends Of silver: we'll purchase house and land, By thy bare gettings, wench, by thy bare gettings, How sayest lieutenant-beard, does she not look Like a wench newly stole from a window? Exceeding well she carries it by Ioue; And if she can forbear her Rampant trick, And but hold close a while 'twill take by Mars. How now you slave? my rampant tricks you rogue, Nay fear not me my only fear is still, Thy filthy face betrays us, for all men know, Thy nose stands compass like a bow, Which is three quarters drawn, thy head. Which is with greasy hair o'erspread, And being uncurled and black as coal, Doth show some Scullion in a hole Begot thee on a Gipsie, or Thy mother was some collier's whore My rampant tricks you rogue, thou'lt be descried Before our plot be ended. What should descry him, Unless it be his nose? and as for that; Thou mayst protest a was thy father's butler, And for thy love is likewise run away, Nay sweet Lieutenant now forbear to puff, And let the bristles of thy beard grow downward, Reverence my Punk and Pandarize a little, there's many of thy rank that do profess it, Yet hold it no disparagement. I shall do, What fits an honest man. Why that's enough, Foot my Father and the goose my brother, Back you two. Back. retire sweet Lieutenant, And come not on, till I shall wave you on. Is not that he. 'tis he. But where's the wench. It shallbe so, I'll cheat him that's flat. You are well met, know ye me good sir, Belike you think I have no eyes, no ears, No nose to smell, and wind out all your tricks, Youhave stole Sir Somerfield's heir, nay we can find, Your wildest paths, your turnings and returns, Your traces, squats, the insets, forms and holes, You youngmen use, if once cursagest wits Be set a hunting, are you now crept forth, Have you hid your head within a suburb hole All this while, and are you now crept forth? 'Tis a stark lie.
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 doubt, no doubt. A sirra has a borne the wentch away, My sonne ifaith, my very sonne ifaith, When I was young and had an able backe, And wore the brissell on my vpper lipe, In good Decorum I had as good conuayance, And could haue ferd, and ferkt y'away a wench, As soone as eare a man a liue; tut boy, I had my winks, my becks treads on the toe, Wrings by the fingers, smyles and other quirkes, Noe Courtier like me, your Courtiers all are fooles, To that which I could doe, I could haue done it boy. Euen to a hare, and that some Ladies knowe, Sir I am glad this match may reconcile, Your loue vnto my brother. Tis more then soe. Ile seeme offended still though I am glad, Has got rich Sommer-fields heyre. Come wench of gold, For thou shalt get me gold, besides od ends Of siluer: weele purchase house and land, By thy bare gettings, wentch, by thy bare gettings, How saiest Lieftenant-Beard, does she not looke Like a wentch newly stole from a window? Exceeding well she carries it by Ioue; And if she can forbeare her Rampant tricke, And but hold close a while twill take by Mars. How now you slaue? my rampant trickes you rogue, Nay feare not me my onely feare is still, Thy filthy face betrayes vs, for all men know, Thy nose stands compas like a bow, Which is three quarters drawne, thy head. Which is with greasy haire ore-spred, And being vncurld and blacke as cole, Doth show some Scullion in a hole Begot thee on a Gipsie, or Thy mother was some Colliers whore My rampant tricks you rogue, thou't be descride Before our plor be ended. What should descry him, Vnlesse it be his nose? and as for that; Thou maist protest a was thy fathers butler, And for thy loue is likewise runne away, Nay sweet Lieftenant now forbeare to puffe, And let the brissells of thy beard growe downe-ward, Reuerence my Punke and Pandarize a little, Thers many of thy ranke that doe professe it, Yet hold it noe disparagment. I shall doe, What fits an honest man. Why thats enough, Foote my Father and the goose my brother, Backe you two. Backe. Retyer sweet Lieftenant, And come not on, till I shall waue you on. Is not that he. Tis he. But wheres the wentch. It shalbe so, Ile cheate him thats flat. You are well met, know yee me good sir, Belike you thinke I haue no eyes, no eares, No nose to smell, and winde out all your tricks, Y'haue stole Sir Somerfields heire, nay we can finde, Your wildest paths, your turnings and returnes, Your traces, squats, the insets, formes and holes, You yongmen vse, if once cursagest wits Be set a hunting, are you now crept forth, Haue you hid your head within a suburbe hole All this while, and are you now crept forth? 'Tis a starke lye.