Jonson, Ben · published 1620 · first performed or written 1609 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and typicality 0.72 · 436 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
O prodigy! And the unconscionable Knave held her in Compliment an hour, with that reversed face, when I still looked when she should talk from the tother side. Why, thou shouldst ha' relieved her. No faith, I let her alone, as we'll let this argument, if you please, and pass to another, When saw you Dauphine, Eugenie? Not these three days. Shall we go to him this morning? he is very melancholic, I hear. Sick o' the Uncle? is he? I met that stiff piece of Formality, his Uncle, yesterday, with a huge turban of nightcaps on his head, buckled over his ears. O, that's his custom when he walks abroad. He can endure no noise, man. So I have heard. But is the disease so ridiculous in him, as it is made? they say, he has been upon diverse Treaties with the Fishwives, and Orenge-women; and Articles propounded between them: marry, the Chimney-sweepers will not be drawn in. No, nor the broom-men: They stand out stiffly. He cannot endure a Costard-monger, he swoons if he hear one. methinks, a Smith should be ominous. Or any Hammer-man. A Brazier is not suffered to dwell in the Parish, nor an Armourer. He would have hanged a pewterer's 'prentice once up on a Shrove-Tuesday Riot, for being o' that Trade, when the rest were quit. A Trumpet should fright him terribly, or the Oboes? Out of his senses. The Weights of the City have a Pension of him, not to come near that Ward. This Youth practised on him, one night, like the Bellman; and never left till he had brought him down to the door, with a Long-Sword: and there left him flourishing with the Air. Why, Sir! he hath chosen a street to lie in, so narrow at both ends, that it will receive no Coaches, nor Carts, nor any of these common noises: and therefore, we that love him, devise to bring him in such as we may, now and then, for his exercise, to breathe him. He would grow resty else in his ease. His Virtue would rust without action. I entreated a Bearward, one day, to come down with the Dogs of some four Parishes that way, and I thank him, he did; and cried his Games under Master Morose's window: till he was sent crying away, with his head made a most bleeding Spectacle to the multitude. And, another time, a Fencer, marching to his Prize, had his Drum most tragically run thorough, for taking that street in his way, at my request. A good Wag. How does he for the Bells?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 58–72 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 3 of 52 in this edition
Length
436 words · 607 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T27 — Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and patronagecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.720 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T39 · seed 44: T37 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O prodigie! And the vn-conſcionable Knaue held her in Complement an houre, with that reuerſt face, when I ſtill look'd when ſhe ſhould talke from the t'other ſide. Why, thou ſhould'ſt ha' releeu'd her. No faith, I let her alone, as wee'll let this argument, if you pleaſe, and paſſe to another, When ſaw you Dauphine, Eugenie? Not theſe three dayes. Shall we goe to him this morning? he is very melancholique, I heare. Sicke o' the Vncle? is hee? I met that ſtiffe peece of Formalitie, his Vncle, yeſterday, with a huge Turbant of Night-Caps on his head, buckled ouer his eares. O, that's his cuſtome when he walkes abroad. Hee can endure no noyſe, man. So I haue heard. But is the diſeaſe ſo ridiculous in him, as it is made? they ſay, hee has beene vpon diuers Treaties with the Fiſh-wiues, and Orenge-women; and Articles propounded betweene them: marry, the Chimney-ſweepers will not be drawne in. No, nor the Broome-men: They ſtand out ſtiffely. Hee cannot endure a Coſtard-monger, hee ſwounes if hee heare one. Me thinkes, a Smith ſhould be ominous. Or any Hammer-man. A Braſier is not ſuffer'd to dwell in the Pariſh, nor an Armorer. He would haue hang'd a Pewterers' prentice once vp on a Shroue-tueſdayes Ryot, for being o' that Trade, when the reſt were quit. A Trumpet ſhould fright him terribly, or the Hau boyes? Out of his ſenſes. The Waights of the Citie haue a Penſion of him, not to come neere that Ward. This Youth practis'd on him, one night, like the Bell-man; and neuer left till hee had brought him downe to the doore, with a Long-Sword: and there left him flouriſhing with the Ayre. Why, Sir! hee hath choſen a ſtreet to lye in, ſo narrow at both ends, that it will receiue no Coaches, nor Carts, nor any of theſe common noyſes: and therefore, wee that loue him, deuiſe to bring him in ſuch as wee may, now and then, for his exerciſe, to breath him. Hee would grow reſtie elſe in his eaſe. His Vertue would ruſt without action. I entreated a Beare-ward, one day, to come downe with the Dogges of ſome foure Pariſhes that way, and I thanke him, he did; and cryed his Games vnder Maſter Moroſe's windore: till hee was ſent crying away, with his head made a moſt bleding Spectacle to the multitude. And, another time, a Fencer, marching to his Prize, had his Drumme moſt tragically runne thorow, for taking that ſtreet in his way, at my requeſt. A good Wagge. How do's he for the Bells?