The Roaring Girl, or Moll Cutpurse · chunk 41 of 47
Dekker, Thomas / Middleton, Thomas · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · Prince Henry's Men · Fortune T8 Captains, gallants and cheats typicality 0.86 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T8: captain, master, money, gentleman, little, lieutenant, rogue, pray, minos, honest.
Thanks to your Lordship. Thanks heroical Captain. Away. we shall cut been whiddes of your Masters and mistress-ship, wheresoever we come. You'll maintain sirrah the old justices plot to his face. Else trine me on the cheats: hang me. Be sure you meet me there. Without any more maundering I'll do't, follow brave Tear-Cat. I prae, sequor, let us go mouse. Moll what was in that canting song? (only milk Troth my Lord, only a praise of good drink, the Which these wild beasts love to suck, and thus it was: A rich cup of wine, oh it is juice Divine, More wholesome for the head,: hen meat, drink, or bread, To fill my drunken pate, with that, I'd sit up late, By the heels would I lie, under a lousy hedge die, Let a slave have a pull at my whore, so I be full Of that precious liquour; And a parcel of such stuff my Lord Not worth the opening. What gallant comes yonder? Mass I think I know him, 'tis one of Cumberland. Shall we venture to shuffle in amongst yond heap of Gallants, and strike? 'Tis a question whether there be any silver shells amongst them, for all their satin outsides. Let's try? Pox on him, a gallant? shadow me, I know him: 'tis one that cumbers the land indeed; if he swim near to the shore of any of your pockets, look to your purses. Is't possible? This brave fellow is no better than a foist. Foist, what's that? A diver with two fingers, a pickpocket; all his train study the figging law, that's to say; cutting of purses and foisting; one of them is a nip, I took him once i'the twopenny gallery at the Fortune; then there's a cloyer, or snap, that dogs any new brother in that trade, and snaps will have half in any booty; He with the wand is both a stale, whose office is, to face a man i'the streets, whilst shells are drawn by another, and then with his black conjuring rod in his hand, he by the nimbleness of his eye and juggling stick, will in cheaping a piece of plate at a goldsmiths stall, make four or five rings mount from the top of his caduceus, and as if it were at leapfrog, they skip into his hand presently. Zounds we are smoked. Ha? we are boiled, pox on her; see Moll the roaring drab. All the diseases of sixteen hospitals boil her: away. Bless you sir. And you good sir. Dost not ken me man? No trust me sir. Heart, there's a Knight to whom I'm bound for many favours, lost his purse at the last new play i'the Swan, seven Angels in't, make it good you're best; do you see? no more. A Synagogue shall be called Mistress Mary, disgrace me not; pacus palabros, I will conjure for you, farewell: Did not I tell you my Lord?
nodes 1979–2018 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 41 of 47 in this edition
Length
493 words · 681 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T8 — Captains, gallants and cheatscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.865 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T11 · seed 44: T14 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thankes to your Lordship. Thankes heroicall Captaine. Away. Wee shall cut ben whiddes of your Maisters and Mistreship, wheresoeuer we come. You'l maintaine sirra the old Iustices plot to his face. Else trine me on the cheats: hang me. Be sure you meete mee there. Without any more maundring I'le doo't, follow braue Tear-Cat. I prae, sequor, let vs go mouse. Mol what was in that canting song? (onely milke Troth my Lord, onely a praise of good drinke, the Which these wilde beasts loue to sucke, and thus it was: A rich cup of wine, oh it is iuyce Diuine, More wholesome for the head,: hen meate, drinke, or bread, To fill my drunken pate, with that, I'de sit vp late, By the heeles wou'd I lie, vnder a lowsy hedge die, Let a slaue haue a pull at my whore, so I be full Of that precious liquor; And a parcell of such stuffe my Lord Not worth the opening. What gallant comes yonder? Masse I thinke I know him, 'tis one of Cumberland. Shall we venture to shuffle in amongst yon heap of Gallants, and strike? 'Tis a question whether there bee any siluer shels amongst them, for all their sattin outsides. Let's try? Pox on him, a gallant? shaddow mee, I know him: 'tis one that cumbers the land indeed; if hee swimme neere to the shore of any of your pockets, looke to your purses. Is't possible? This braue fellow is no bettet then a foyst. Foyst, what's that? A diuer with two fingers, a picke-pocket; all his traine study the figging law, that's to say; cutting of purses and foysting; one of them is a nip, I tooke him once i'the twopenny gallery at the Fortune; then there's a cloyer, or snap, that dogges any new brother in that trade, and snappes will haue halfe in any booty; Hee with the wand is both a stale, whose office is, to face a man i'the streetes, whil'st shels are drawne by an other, and then with his blacke coniuring rod in his hand, he by the nimblenesse of his eye and iugling sticke, will in cheaping a peece of plate at a goldsmithes stall, make foure or fiue ringes mount from the top of his caduceus, and as if it were at leape-frog, they skip into his hand presently. Zounds wee are smoakt. Ha? Wee are boyl'd, pox on her; see Moll the roaring drabbe. All the diseases of sixteene hospitals boyle her: away. Blesse you sir. And you good sir. Do'st not ken mee man? No trust mee sir. Heart, there's a Knight to whom I'me bound for many fauours, lost his purse at the last new play i'the Swanne, seuen Angels in't, make it good you'r best; do you see? no more. A Sinagogue shall be cal'd Mistresse Mary, disgrace mee not; pacus palabros, I will coniure for you, farewell: Did not I tell you my Lord?