The Roaring Girl, or Moll Cutpurse · chunk 37 of 47
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men · Fortune unassigned nearest T8 Captains, gallants and cheats · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T8: captain, master, money, gentleman, little, lieutenant, rogue, pray, minos, honest.
I scorned one woman, thus, should brave all men, And (which more vexed me) a she-citizen. Therefore I laid siege to her, out she held, Gave many a brave repulse, and me compelled With shame to sound retreat to my hot lust, Then seeing all base desires raked up in dust, And that to tempt her modest ears, I swore near to presume again: she said, her eye Would ever give me welcome honestly, And (since I was a Gentleman) if it run low, She would my state relieve, not to o'erthrow Your own and hers: did so; then seeing I wrought Upon her meekness, me she set at nought, And yet to try if I could turn that tide, You see what stream I strove with, but sir I swear By heaven, and by those hopes men lay up there, I neither have, nor had a base intent To wrong your bed, what's done, is merriment: Your Gold I pay back with this interest, When I had most power to do't I wronged you least. If this no gullery be sir, No, no, on my life, Then sir I am beholden (not to you wife) But Master Laxton to your want of doing ill, Which it seems you have not Gentlemen, Tarry and dine here all. Brother, we have a jest, As good as yours to furnish out a feast. we'll crown our table with it: wife brag no more, Of holding out: who most brags is most whore. But prithee Master Captain Jack be plain and perspicuous with me; was it your Megge of Westminster's courage, that rescued me from the Poultry puttocks indeed. The valour of my wit I ensure you sir fetched you off bravely, when you were i'the forlorn hope among those desperates, Sir Bewtious Ganymed here, and sir Thomas Long heard that cuckoo (my man Trapdore) sing the note of your ransom from captivity. Uds so Moll, where's that Trapdore? Hanged I think by this time, a justice in this town, (that speaks nothing but make a Mittimus a way with him to Newgate) used that rogue like a firework to run upon a line betwixt him and me. how, how? Marry to lay trains of villainy to blow up my life; I smelled the powder, spied what linstock gave fire to shoot against the poor Captain of the Gallifoyst, & away slid I my man, like a shovel-board shilling, he struts up and down the suburbs I think: and eats up whores: feeds upon a bawd's garbage. Sirrah Jack Dapper. What sayst Tom Long? Thou hadst a sweet faced boy hail fellow with thee to your little Gull: how is he spent? Troth I whistled the poor little buzzard of a my fist, because when he waited upon me at the ordinaries, the gallants hit me i'the teeth still, and said I looked like a painted Alderman's tomb, and the boy at my elbow like a death's head. Sirrah Jack, Moll. What says my little Dapper? Come, come, walk and talk, walk and talk.
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)
I scorn'd one woman, thus, should braue all men, And (which more vext me) a shee-citizen. Therefore I laid siege to her, out she held, Gaue many a braue repulse, and me compel'd With shame to sound retrait to my hot lust, Then seeing all base desires rak'd vp in dust, And that to tempt her modest eares, I swore Nere to prsumne againe: she said, her eie Would euer giue me welcome honestly, And (since I was a Gentlman) if it runne low, Shee would my state relieue, not to o'rethrow Your owne and hers: did so; then seeing I wrought Vpon her meekenesse, mee she set at nought, And yet to try if I could turne that tide, You see what streme I stroue with, but sir I sweare By heauen, and by those hopes men lay vp there, I neither haue, nor had a base intent To wrong your bed, what's done, is meriment: Your Gold I pay backe with this interest, When I had most power to do't I wroug'd you least. If this no gullery be sir, No, no, on my life, Then sir I am beholden (not to you wife) But Maister Laxton to your want of doing ill, Which it seemes you haue not Gentlemen, Tarry and dine here all. Brother, we haue a iest, As good as yours to furnish out a feast. Wee'l crowne our table with it: wife brag no more, Of holding out: who most brags is most whore. But prethee Maister Captaine Iacke be plaine and perspicuous with mee; was it your Megge of Westminsters courage, that rescued mee from the Poultry puttockes indeed. The valour of my wit I ensure you sir fetcht you off brauely, when you werre i'the forlorne hope among those desperates, Sir Bewtious Ganymed here, and sir Thomas Long heard that cuckoe (my man Trapdore) sing the note of your ransome from captiuty. Vds so Mol, where's that Trapdore? Hang'd I thinke by this time, a Iustice in this towne, (that speakes nothing but make a Mittimus a way with him to Newgate) vsed that rogue like a fire-worke to run vpon a line betwixt him and me. how, how? Marry to lay traines of villany to blow vp my life; I smelt the powder, spy'd what linstocke gaue fire to shoote against the poore Captaine of the Gallifoyst, & away slid I my man, like a shouell-board shilling, hee stroutes vp and downe the suburbes I thinke: and eates vp whores: feedes vpon a bauds garbadg. Sirra Iacke Dapper. What sai'st Tom Long? Thou hadst a sweet fac't boy haile fellow with thee to your little Gull: how is he spent? Troth I whistled the poore little buzzard of a my fist, because when hee wayted vpon mee at the ordinaries, the gallants hit me i'the teeth still, and said I lookt like a painted Aldermans tomb, and the boy at my elbow like a deaths head. Sirra Iacke, Mol. What saies my little Dapper? Come, come, walke and talke, walke and talke.