Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Your belly's full, Our children do you mean? that's Gyptian like: For so they bear them, in their slats or sheets; If otherwise, my modest cheeks would blush To answer you. Better and better still; Your apprehension takes like touch; it's hard To find a woman quick of wit, so mild, So modest, shamefaced, and so debonair. It joys me much, a woman's modesty, And grieves my soul to hear a scolding quean, That sets her husband's nightcap on with horns. Be there such women? No, there should not be, I do not say there are; I know none such; All women are alike to me, I'll swear, If my skill fail not, thou'lt not cuckold me, Nor bring more children, so thy planet says, I found it, casting thy Nativity. Oh sir, those studies are but fopperies, They are conjectures, there's no certainty, Scarce warrantable, by the word of God, Yet Scholars use them, if not good, the more, Their fault, my fancy tells me so. 'tis true: The art is lawful, 'tis Astrology, But th'arts abuse in those predictions Stretching a string too far, mars all; We must not attribute to creatures that Which the Creator wils; it's he alone, That guides our bodies, not the influence Of stars or Planets, without him their power Is nothing; nor doth he reveal his will In them; yet wonders strange they oft foreshow, Which men may guess at, none knows till 'tis past; Therefore I hold them idle vanity. Now sir, you are welcome home, this idle chat Hath shortened our way: I'll to my Dairy; I must spare time to see my house wifery. Shall I not have a pleasant journey on't Think you, that must take such provision With me: a Tankard full of Spanish Wine Like those in London waterbearers use; The which the Merchant sends to his Father A baked Swan, and two huge Turkey-cocks; Two bottles of French Wine, the Sergeant sends And M. Flutterkin. I am their man Must do their business, must haste on afore, While they take leisure: Nay I'll get two more To wait on me, and row me in a boat With this my luggage: when I am dry, I'll drink, And taste a bit: but that the Pies are whole; O there's the grief: but yet I'll have a trick Shall serve my turn, ere I will starve for meat. Three English miles, and neither drink nor eat? It is too great a journey, I shall scarce hold out Without refreshing, something by the way, Will do me good, but for mine honest men; I'll keep them sober, give them never a drop Till they come there, unto the Younkers house, Where they shall have enough; too much I doubt Without more heed; yet none will force them drink; But if they'll takte, their Buttery is so free. A drunkard will be catched, before he's ware;
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)
Your bellyesfull, Our children do you mean? thats Gyptiā like: For ſo they beare them, in their ſlats or ſheetes; If otherwiſe, my modeſt cheekes would bluſh To anſwere you. Better and better ſtill; Your apprehenſion takes like tutch; its hard To finde a woman quicke of wit, ſo milde, So modeſt, ſhamefac't, and ſo debonnaire. It ioyes me much, a womans modeſty, And grieues my ſoule to heare a ſcoulding queane, That ſets her husbands night-cap on with hornes. Be there ſuch women? No, there ſhould not be, I doe not ſay there are; I know none ſuch; All women are alike to me, Ile ſweare, If my skill fayle not, thoult not cuckolde me, Nor bring more children, ſo thy planet ſayes, I found it, caſting thy Natiuity. Oh ſir, thoſe ſtudies are but fopperies, They are coniectures, theres no certainety, Scarce warrantable, by the word of God, Yet Schollers vſe them, if not good, the more, Their fault, my fancie telles me ſo. Tis true: The art is lawfull, tis Aſtrologie, But th'arts abuſe in thoſe predictions Stretching a ſtring too farre, marres all; We muſt not attribute to creatures that Which the Creator wils; its he alone, That guides our bodies, not the influence Of ſtarres or Planets, without him theyr power Is nothing; nor doth he reueale his will In them; yet wonders ſtrange they oft foreſhew, Which men may gueſſe at, none knows til tis paſt; Therefore I holde them idle vanity. Now ſir, you are welcom home, this idle chat Hath ſhortned our way: Ile to my Dayerie; I muſt ſpare time to ſee my houſe wifery. Shall I not haue a pleaſant iourney on't Thinke you, that muſt take ſuch prouiſion With me: a Tankard full of Spaniſh Wine Like thoſe in London Water-bearers vſe; The which the Marchant ſends to his Father A baked Swanne, and two huge Turky-cockes; Two bottles of French Wine, the Serieant ſends And M. Flutterkin. I am their man Muſt doe their buſineſſe, muſt haſte on a fore, While they take leaſure: Nay Ile get two more To wayte on me, and rowe me in a boate With this my luggage: when I am dry, Ile drinke, And taſte a bit: but that the Pies are whole; O theres the griefe: but yet Ile haue a tricke Shall ſerue my turne, ere I will ſterue for meate. Three Engliſh miles, and neyther drinke nor eate? It is too great a iourney, I ſhall ſcarſe holde out Without refreſhing, ſomething by the way, Will doe me good, but for mine honeſt men; Ile keepe them ſober, giue them neuer a droppe Till they come there, vnto the Younkers houſe, Where they ſhall haue enough; too much I doubt Without more heed; yet none wil force them drink; But if they'l takte, theyr Butterie is ſo free. A drunkard will be catcht, before hee's ware;