Hans Beer-Pot (See Me and See Me Not) · chunk 6 of 26
Belchier, Dabridgcourt · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 (Annals) comedy unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
I am glad to see you in so pleasant vain; I hope we shall have a merry day on't. Deed, Pasquill and I have been rhyming. What? That pretty Stripling, that mad Pasty-crust, He rhymeth best with lug or Pewter-can, And oft doth quarrel with our honest Host For spiced Ale, that hisseth with a toast: But let these matters pass, I'll tell you news; Last night your brother and I fell flat out About an Argument we stiffly held Which service was best on horseback, or on foot: But what say you? For Horsemen tooth and nail. He called me ass, but since one predicament Contains us both, I care not I'll not yield; You know he's learned, had I but so much, I'd make him fret, and stamp, and scratch his head; Do you but second me, i'll vex him yet. While you do talk, than I am sure of drink. Let Pasquill seek him. Sirrah, make haste, run; My Captain called him, when I went to sleep. I go, I run, I haste, I skip, I fly; With nimbler heels than ere did Mercurie. Ah poti maia sitis, how fast he Runs for the liquors sake; now thinks he, To stuff his guts with Huffcappe English Beer; But hear me Sir, let's walk in the Churchyard Until he comes again; for I must think myself of pro and con, what's to be done Against this lusty Younker; Oh he's here. Good morrow brother Garland, why did you Send Pasquill for me posting in such haste; What is my Sister sick, or your young son, Or some misfortune happened, that I know Not of as yet, unto your house or goods, Or ships at Sea: Speak, I am in suspense. What? do you fool me, flout me to my face; Is that for my good will? why then farewell. Be not so angry brother, I protest, I laugh not at you, but at Pasquill, what Said he to you, what message did he bring? The fool comes gaping, sets up such a throat, Staring so madly, as if foul Cerberus From pitchy Acheron, were come to affright Poor men on earth: or else some accident Of wonder strange, worse than a blazing star, Had made men gaze, I know not what to think: You sent him for me, and I must come straight: I must not stay; my Captain asked him, what The matter was: if the town were on fire: There's fire in the town, quoth he, quite out Of breath and wit, forgets to move his cap, Cries out on's throat, that it was almost burnt With soot and smoke, and dust I know not what: My Captain gave him twelve pence, bade him go And wash his face, he looked so reechily, Like Bacon hanging on the chimneys roof; Faring so ghastly, that we both did think, Him worse than mad.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I am glad to ſee you in ſo pleaſant vaine; I hope we ſhall haue a merry day on't. Deed, Paſquill and I haue beene riming. What? That prety Stripling, that mad Paſtie-cruſt, He rimeth beſt with lugge or Pewter-can, And oft doth quarrell with our honeſt Hoaſt For ſpiced Ale, that hiſſeth with a toſte: But let theſe matters paſſe, Ile tell you newes; Laſt night your brother and I fell flat out About an Argument we ſtifly helde Which ſeruice was beſt on horſebacke, or on foot: But what ſay you? For Horſemen tooth and nayle. He calde me aſſe, but ſince one predicament Containes vs both, I care not Ile not yeeld; You know hees learned, had I but ſo much, Ide make him fret, and ſtampe, and ſcratch his head; Doe you but ſecond me, ile vexe him yet. While you do talke, then I am ſure of drinke. Let Paſquill ſeeke him. Sirra, make haſte, runne; My Captaine calde him, when I went to ſleepe. I goe, I runne, I haſte, I skippe, I flye; With nimbler heeles then ere did Mercurie. Ah poti maia ſitis, how faſt he Runnes for the liquours ſake; now thinkes he, To ſtuffe his guts with Huffcappe Engliſh Beere; But heare me Sir, lets walke in the Church-yard Vntill he comes againe; for I muſt thinke My ſelfe of pro and con, whats to be done Againſt this luſty Younker; Oh hee's heere. Good morrow brother Garland, why did you Send Paſquill for me poſting in ſuch haſte; What is my Siſter ſicke, or your young ſonne, Or ſome miſfortune happened, that I know Not of as yet, vnto your houſe or goods, Or ſhippes at Sea: Speake, I am in ſuſpence. What? doe you foole me, flout me to my face; Is that for my good will? why then farewell. Be not ſo angry brother, I proteſt, I laugh not at you, but at Paſquill, what Sayde he to you, what meſſage did he bring? The foole comes gaping, ſets vp ſuch a throate, Staring ſo madly, as if foule Cerberus From pitchy Acheron, were come to affright Poore men on earth: or elſe ſome accident Of wonder ſtrange, worſe then a blazing ſtarre, Had made men gaze, I know not what to thinke: You ſent him for me, and I muſt come ſtreight: I muſt not ſtay; my Captaine askt him, what The matter was: if the towne were on fire: Theres fire in the towne, quoth he, quite out Of breath and wit, forgets to moue his cappe, Cryes out on's throat, that it was almoſt burnt With ſoote and ſmoake, and duſt I know not what: My Captaine gaue him twelue pence, bad him goe And waſh his face, he lookt ſo reechilie, Like Bacon hanging on the Chimnies roofe; Faring ſo ghaſtly, that we both did thinke, Him worſe then mad.