Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.88 · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
No, thus; fair sir, the Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, commanded me to inquire, upon what adventure you are bound, whether to relieve some distressed Damsels, or otherwise. whoreson blockhead cannot remember. I'faith, & Rafe told him on't before, all the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not Rafe tell him on't? Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsel, to have a half pennyworth of pepper. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by my troth it's a fine child. Relieve her with all courteous language, now shut up shop, no more my Prentice, but my trusty Squire and Dwarf, I must bespeak my shield and arming-pestle. Go thy ways Rafe, as I'm a true man, thou art the best on 'em all. Rafe, Rafe. What say you mistress? I prithee come again quickly sweet Rafe. By and by. Give thee my blessing? No, I'll ne'er give thee my blessing, I'll see thee hanged first; it shall ne'er be said I gave thee my blessing, thouart thy fathers own son, of the right blood of the Merri-thoughts, I may curse the time that ere I knew thy father, he hath spent all his own, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and sings, and cries, A merry heart lives long. And thou art a waste-thrift, and art run away from thy master, that loved thee well, and art come to me, and I have laid up a little for my younger son Michael, and thou think'st to bezzle that, but thou shalt never be able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael, down on thy knees, thou shalt have my blessing. I pray you mother pray to God to bless me. God bless thee: but Iasper shall never have my blessing, he shall be hanged first, shall he not Michael? how sayst thou? Yes forsooth mother and grace of God. That's a good boy. i'faith it's a fine spoken child. Mother, though you forget a parent's love, I must preserve the duty of a child. I ran not from my master, nor return To have your stock maintain my Idleness. Ungracious child I warrant him, hark how he chops logic with his mother: thou hadst best tell her she lies, do tell her she lies. If he were my son, I would hang him up by the heels, and flay him, and salt him, whoreson haltersack. My coming only is to beg your love, Which I must ever, though I never gain it, And howsoever you esteem of me, There is no drop of blood hid in these veins, But I remember well belongs to you That brought me forth, and would be glad for you To rip them all again, and let it out. i'faith I had sorrow enough for thee (God knows) but I'll hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learn of thy brother Michael.
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
No, thus; faire sir, the Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, commanded me to enquire, vpon what aduenture your are bound, whether to relieue some distressed Damsels, or otherwise. Whoresome blocke-head cannot remember. I'faith, & Rafe told him on't before, all the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not Rafe tel him on't? Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsell, to haue a halfe penny-worth of pepper. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by my troth it's a fine child. Relieue her with all courteous language, now shut vp shoppe, no more my Prentice, but my trusty Squire and Dwarfe, I must be speake my shield and arming-pestle. Go thy waies Rafe, as Im'e a true man, thou art the best on 'em all. Rafe, Rafe. What say you mistresse? I pre'thee come againe quickly sweet Rafe. By and by. Giue thee my blessing? No, Il'e ner'e giue thee my blessing, Il'e see thee hang'd first; it shall ner'e bee said I gaue thee my blessing, th'art thy fathers owne sonne, of the right bloud of the Merri-thoughts, I may curse the time that er'e I knew thy father, he hath spent all his owne, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughes and dances, and sings, and cryes, A merry heart liues long-a. And thou art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy maister, that lou'd thee well, and art come to me, and I haue laid vp a little for my yonger sonne Michael, and thou think'st to bezell that, but thou shalt neuer be able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael, downe on thy knees, thou shalt haue my blessing. I pray you mother pray to God to blesse me. God blesse thee: but Iasper shal neuer haue my blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall hee not Michael? how saist thou? Yes forsooth mother and grace of God. That's a good boy. I faith it's a fine spoken child. Mother, though you forget a parents loue, I must preserue the duty of a child. I ran not from my maister, nor returne To haue your stocke maintaine my Idlenesse. Vngracious childe I warrant him, harke how hee chops logicke with his mother: thou hadst best tell her she lyes, do tell her she lyes. If hee were my sonne, I would hang him vp by the heeles, and flea him, and salt him, whoore-sonne haltersacke. My comming onely is to begge your loue, Which I must euer, though I neuer gaine it, And howsoeuer you esteeme of me, There is no drop of bloud hid in these veines, But I remember well belongs to you That brought me forth, and would be glad for you To rip them all againe, and let it out. I faith I had sorrow enough for thee (God knowes) but Il'e hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learne of thy brother Michael.