Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Sir, I will. But, by Attorney, and to a second purpose. Now, I am sure, it is a Bawdy-house; I'll swear it, were the Marshal here, to thankeme. The naming this Commander, doth confirm it. Don Face! Why, he's the most authentic dealer I'these Commodities! The superintendant To all the queinter traffickers, in town. He is their Visitor, and does appoint Who lies with whom; and at what hour; what price; Which gown; and in what smock; what fall; what tire. Him will I prove, by a third person, to find The subtleties of this dark Labyrinth: Which, if I do discover, dear, Sir Mammon, You'll give your poor Friend leave, though no Philosopher, To laugh: for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weep. Sir. He does pray, you'll not forget. I will not, Sir. Sir Epicure, I shall leave you. I follow you, straight. But do so, good Sir, to avoid suspicion. This Gentleman has a parlous head. But wilt thou Be constant to thy promise? As my life, Sir. And wilt thou insinuate what I am? and praise me? And say I am a Noble fellow? O what else, Sir? And, that you'll make her royal, with the Stone, An Empress; and yourself King of Bantam. Wilt thou do this? Will I Sir? Lungs, my Lungs, I love thee. Send your stuff Sir, that my Master May busy himself, about projection. Thou'st witched me, Rogue: Take, Go. Your Iack and all Sir. Thou art a Villain— I will send my Iack; And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear. Away, thou dost not care for me. Not I Sir? Come, I was borne to make thee, my good Weasel; Set thee on a bench: and, ha'thee twirl a Chain With the best Lords Vermin, of 'em all. Away Sir. A Count, nay a Count-Palatine— Good Sir, go. Shall not advance thee, better; no, nor faster. HAs he bit? Has he bit? And swallowed too, my Subtle. I ha' given him line, and now he plays, I faith. And shall we twitch him? Through both the gills. A Wench is a rare bayt, with which a Man No soon's taken, but he strait firks mad. Dol, my Lord Whachums Sister, you must now Bear yourself statelike. O, let me alone. I'll not forget my race, I warrant you. I'll keep my distance, laugh, and talk aloud; Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy Lady: And be as rude ' as her woman. Well said, sanguine. But will he send his Andirons? His Iack too; And's iron Shooing-horn. I ha'spoke to him. Well, I must not lose my wary Gamester, yonder. O Monsieur Caution, that will not be gulled? ay, if I can strike a fine hook into him, now, The Temple-church, there I have cast mine angle. Well, pray for me. I'll about it. What, more Gudgeons! Dol, scout, scout; stay Face, you must go to the door. Pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't Dol? I know him not. He looks like a Gold-end man.
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)
Sir, I will. But, by Attorney, and to a second purpose. Now, I am sure, it is a Bawdy-house; I'll sweare it, were the Marshall here, to thankeme. The naming this Commander, doth confirme it. Don Face! Why, h'is the most autentique dealer I'these Commodities! The Superintendent To all the queinter Traffiquers, in towne. He is their Visiter, and do's appoint Who lies with whom; and at what hower; what price; Which gowne; and in what smock; what fall; what tire. Him will I proue, by a third person, to finde The subtilties of this darke Labyrinth: Which, if I doe discouer, deare, Sir Mammon, You'll giue your poore Friend leaue, though no Philosopher, To laugh: for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weepe. Sir. He do's pray, you'll not forget. I will not, Sir. Sir Epicure, I shall leaue you. I follow you, streight. But doe so, good Sir, to auoide suspicion. This Gent'man has a par'lous head. But wilt thou Be constant to thy promise? As my life, Sir. And wilt thou insinuate what I am? and praise me? And say I am a Noble fellow? O what else, Sir? And, that you'll make her royall, with the Stone, An Empresse; and your selfe King of Bantam. Wilt thou doe this? Will I Sir? Lungs, my Lungs, I loue thee. Send your stuffe Sir, that my Master May busie himselfe, about proiection. Th'hast witch'd me, Rogue: Take, Goe. Your Iack and all Sir. Thou art a Villaine—I will send my Iack; And the weights too. Slaue, I could bite thine are. Away, thou dost not care for me. Not I Sir? Come, I was borne to make thee, my good Weasell; Set thee on a bench: and, ha'thee twirle a Chaine With the best Lords Vermine, of 'hem all. Away Sir. A Count, nay a Count-Palatine— Good Sir, goe. Shall not aduance thee, better; no, nor faster. HAs he bitt? Has he bit? And swallow'd too, my Subtle. I ha' giu'n him line, and now he playes, I faith. And shall we twitch him? Thorough both the gills. A Wench is a rare bay, with which a Man No sooner's taken, but he straight firkes mad. Dol, my Lord Whachums Sister, you must now Beare your selfe statelich. O, let me alone. I'll not forget my race, I warrant you. I'll keepe my distance, laugh, and talke aloud; Haue all the trickes of a proud sciruy Lady: And be as rude 'as her woman. Well said, sanguine. But will he send his Androns? His Iack too; And's iron Shooing-horne. I ha'spoke to him. Well, I must not loose my wary Gamster, yonder. O Monsieur Caution, that will not be gull'd? I, if I can strike a fine hooke into him, now, The Temple-church, there I haue cast mine angle. Well, pray for me. I'll about it. What, more Gdgeons! Dol, scout, scout; stay Face, you must goe to the dore. 'Pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't Dol? I know him not. He lookes like a Gold-end man.