Hans Beer-Pot (See Me and See Me Not) · chunk 12 of 26
Belchier, Dabridgcourt · published 1618 · first performed or written 1618 (Annals) comedy unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 524 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
Why then thou winst my heart, I long to seeet, to taste such wine, such cheer, But more, I long for such unheard of Beer. If that I speak my language natural, I think there's few that understands it here: It's Heber's tongue left with the Abderites; Hestron, pangaeon, cacobomboton, Aphnes halenon, Mydras, myphrasman, tyltura, pantha, teman, Hogdon, camthompos, parathasta pidarda laronta, Clastriae campharides, bulgida bartra bela. I am a Moore borne in Numedia, Parched with the suns extreme and scorching heat; My mother's name Abdela Sydan hight, My Father was Don Ian de Vechia, A noble Spaniard, brave Castilian: I served the King of swart Numidia, And did command ten thousand barbarous horse For two whole years; and than my father's love Drew me from thence to seek mount Atlas out; And so to Spain: my Merchant played the jade, And hoisted sails for great Byzantiums town; From whence I ran, and so through Germanie, With weary steps I posted to this place. If that you ask my name, and fain would know, It is Don Abendara's Quixot, A Spaniard, Moore, half Turk, half Christian, howe'er my flesh escaped the whizzing shot, My tattered doublet sure, escaped not. Good Wine, good Beer, they say, it needs no bush; Yet have I looked abroad, and no man comes; I have o'erpeer the market hill quite round, My goodly front, mine eyes, my neatest beard. My well fed corpse: why, these are Adamants To draw men's minds to lend me many a look, But yet (none hears) all pass, none steps aside, The soaring Falcon stoops not at my lure, But clips her wings, flees on, heeds not her prey, I see no Younker, nor no Sergeant yet; But Hans is busy with his master's corn, His Markets done, I am sure he will be here, O there's a man lives bravely, keeps an house, Relieves the poor, his gates be never shut; His tables free, there's meat for honest men: He lived in England, learned that countries guise, For Hospitality, few such be here: Yet frugal too, was never prodigal, Spends nothing more, but what he well may spare, He borrows nought, nor lends on usury: Yet hath enough. Mine Host, what all alone? And market day, why this is wondrous strange. My noble Younker: Welcome Gentlemen, I want such guests, here's beer was never drunk, Fresh set abroach: puts down the Diamond For lively sparkling: of transparent view, More clear than amber, or fair orient pearl, Fetched from the farthest Ind, How now mine Host? Spare so much courtesy, lest we suspect Some hidden craft. In me? you know me well, Plain Flutterkin, a down, right dealing man, I have no guards to set me bravely out; But what I think I speak, and freely too, Without deceit or simulation. Why then two cans of your best English beer It shall be done with much celerity. Come Sergeant, I must have construction Of Ovid's verses, i'll not bate an ace Before you drink, I will not stay so long. You are too hasty, spare me yet a while, And then i'll fit you.
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)
Why then thou winſt my heart, I long to ſeet, to taſte ſuch wine, ſuch cheere, But more, I long for ſuch vnheard of Beere. If that I ſpeake my language naturall, I thinke theres few that vnderſtands it here: Its Hebers tongue left with the Abderites; Heſtron, pangaeon, cacobomboton, Aphnes halenon, Mydras, myphraſman, tyltura, pantha, teman, Hogdon, camthompos, parathaſta pidarda laronta, Clastriae campharides, bulgida bartra bela. I am a Moore borne in Numedia, Parcht with the ſuns extreame and ſcorching heate; My mothers name Abdela Sydan hight, My Father was Don Ian de Ʋechia, A noble Spaniard, braue Caſtilian: I ſerude the King of ſwart Numidia, And did commaund ten thouſand barbarous horſe For two whole yeares; and then my fathers loue Drew me from thence to ſeeke mount Atlas out; And ſo to Spaine: my Marchant playde the iade, And hoyſted ſayles for great Byzantiums towne; From whence I ranne, and ſo through Germanie, With vveary ſteps I poaſted to this place. If that you aske my name, and faine would know, It is Don Abendaraes Quixot, A Spaniard, Moore, halfe Turke, halfe Chriſtian, How ere my fleſh eſcapte the whizzing ſhot, My tatterde doublet ſure, eſcaped not. Good Wine, good Beere, they ſay, it needs no buſh; Yet haue I lookt abroad, and no man comes; I haue ore-peerde the market hill quite round, My goodly front, mine eyes, my neateſt bearde. My well fed corps: vvhy, theſe are Adamants To draw mens minds to lend me many a looke, But yet (none heares) all paſſe, none ſteps aſide, The ſoaring Falcon ſtoopes not at my lure, But clippes her wings, flees on, heedes not her prey, I ſee no Younker, nor no Serieant yet; But Hans is buſie with his maſters corne, His Markets done, I am ſure he will be here, O theres a man liues brauely, keepes an houſe, Releeues the poore, his gates be neuer ſhut; His tables free, theres meat for honeſt men: He liude in England, learnt that countryes guiſe, For Hoſpitality, few ſuch be here: Yet frugall too, was neuer prodigall, Spends nothing more, but what he well may ſpare, He borrowes nought, nor lends on vſurie: Yet hath ynough. Mine Hoaſt, vvhat all alone? And market day, why this is wondrous ſtrange. My noble Younker: Welcome Gentlemen, I want ſuch gueſts, heeres beere was neuer drunke, Freſh ſet a broach: puts downe the Diamont For liuely ſparkling: of tranſparent view, More cleare then amber, or faire orient pearle, Fetcht from the fartheſt Inde, How now mine Hoſte? Spare ſo much curteſie, leſt we ſuſpect Some hidden craft. In me? you know me well, Plaine Flutterkin, a downe, right dealing man, I haue no guardes to ſet me brauely out; But what I thinke I ſpeake, and freely too, Without deceit or ſimulation. Why then two cans of your beſt Engliſh beere It ſhall be done with much celerity. Come Serieant, I muſt haue conſtruction Of Ouids verſes, ile not bate an ace Before you drinke, I will not ſtay ſo long. You are too haſty, ſpare me yet a while, And then ile fit you.