Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
And all for coin, and often send him some. Mine husband sees and knows, yet nothing says, But is content with what he thinks I do; My man plays fast and loose, I see it too, And nothing say, for why, the knave is true, And wrongs us not one cross, but what he gets Is for my sons, not for himself, I am sure. I see, but see not, give him oft a shilling, Because to do for mine, he is so willing. What Hans? Your servant at command, To run, to ride, to go by day or night. How now sir sauce, your tongue so early glib; What though the days be short, there's time enough Ere night to make your pate ring noon. Indeed, madam, you never saw me drunk as yet, So much as to forget that due respect I owe your service. Well sir, then be gone, Make haste, dispatch, and get you to the town; Look to your business, what you buy and sell; But ere you go, take that and give my son. The heavens bless you mistress, that fair hand, Once more for the Sergeant. Away you Knave, Take that Dutch shilling, drink 'mongst your Comrades. she's gone, the best that ever trod on shoe: I would not change my life to be Lord Mayor Of the thy crown of London: my service freedom, labour but a pleasure, what I ask, but halfe a word, 'tis done, she knew my mind, I would I have said, That with the Sergeant I must crack a pot, But 〈◊〉 I could bringt out, she stopped my mouth With Knave and shilling too: well let her do't As often as she will, See who gets most Of she or I. As I went to Walsingham, To that holy Land, Met I with an old bald Mare, By the way as I came. Indeed you do full little think, how I Am taken up 'mongst Soldiers in the town; Hans Beer pot is a man of note, well known To all under the degree of Officers. But Sergeant Goodfellow, I love him best; And why? because he loves my master's son. My Master loves him too, for his honesty And never sees him, but he gives him gold, And sends him much provision for his house; he'll drink his cup, swears not & hates a whore, Which if he used, I am sure my master Brooks not the company of any such To haunt his son: but with an angry frown, Would look upon him: for he and Beremond Are the only lads of all the Garrison; I come my lads, my markets once o'erpast, At Flutterkins we'll have one bridling cast. Come wife, help me on with my band: indeed This fair morning invites me take the pains To walk on foot, and see the town, visit My friends, & children, drink some Spanish wine: And why, that wine? I am not yet grown old, I can bestride, a bouncing jennet still, And with mine arm to frush a sturdy lance.
nodes 63–128 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 2 of 26 in this edition
Length
516 words · 666 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.766 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T10 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And all for coyne, and often ſend him ſome. Mine husband ſees and knowes, yet nothing ſayes, But is content with what he thinkes I doe; My man playes faſt and looſe, I ſee it too, And nothing ſay, for why, the knaue is true, And wrongs vs not one croſſe, but what he gets Is for my ſonnes, not for himſelfe, I am ſure. I ſee, but ſee not, giue him oft a ſhilling, Becauſe to doe for mine, he is ſo willing. What Hans? Your ſeruant at commaund, To runne, to ride, to goe by day or night. How now ſir ſauce, your tong ſo early glyb; What though the dayes be ſhort, theres time enough Ere night to make your pate ring noone. Indeed, Madame, you neuer ſaw me drunke as yet, So much as to forget that due reſpect I owe your ſeruice. Well ſir, then be gone, Make haſte, diſpatch, and get you to the towne; Looke to your buſineſſe, what you buy and ſell; But ere you goe, take that and giue my ſonne. The heauens bleſſe you miſtreſſe, that ſayre hand, Once more for the Seieant. Away you Knaue, Take that Dutch ſhilling, drinke mongſt your Comrades. Shees gone, the beſt that euer trode on ſhooe: I would not change my life to be Lord Mayor Of the thy crowne of London: my ſeruice freedome, labour but a pleaſure, what I aske, but halfe a word, Tis done, ſhe knew my mind, I would I haue ſayd, That with the Serieant I muſt cracke a pot, But I could bringt out, ſhe ſtopt my mouth With Knaue and ſhilling too: well let her doot As often as ſhee will, See who gets moſt Of ſhee or I. As I went to Walſingham, To that holy Land, Met I with an olde balde Mare, By the way as I came. Indeed you doe full little thinke, how I Am taken vp mongſt Souldiers in the towne; Hans Beere pot is a man of note, well knowne To all vnder the degree of Officers. But Serieant Goodfellow, I loue him beſt; And why? becauſe he loues my maſters ſonne▪ My Maſter loues him too, for his honeſty And neuer ſees him, but he giues him gold, And ſends him much prouiſion for his houſe; Heele drinke his cuppe, ſweares not & hates a whore, Which if he vſde, I am ſure my maſter Brookes not the company of any ſuch To haunt his ſonne: but with an angry frowne, Would looke vpon him: for he and Beeremonde Are the onely lads of all the Garriſon; I come my laddes, my markets once ore-paſt, At Flutterkins weele haue one brideling caſt. Come wife, helpe me on with my bande: indeede This fayre morning inuites me take the paines To walke on foot, and ſee the towne, viſite My friends, & children, drinke ſome Spaniſh wine: And why, that wine? I am not yet growne olde, I can beſtride, a bouncing Gennet ſtill, And with mine arme to fruſh a ſturdie launce.