The Inner-Temple Masque, or The Masque of Heroes · chunk 4 of 5
Middleton, Thomas · published 1619 · first performed or written 1619 [Jan 6-Feb 2] (Annals) masque unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
I will do't in Cone. Stand forth Shrove-Tuesday, one 'a the silenced bricklayers, 'tis in your charge to pull down bawdy-houses, To set your Tribe awork, cause spoil in Shoreditch, And make a Dangerous Leak there, deface Turnbul, And tickle Codpiece Rowe, ruin the Cockpit, the Poor Players ne'er thrived in't, a my Conscience some Quean pissed upon the first Brick; For you, lean Lent, be sure you utter first Your rotten Herrings and keep up your best Till they be rotten, then there's no deceit When they be all alike. You Ill-Mayday, Be as unruly a Rascal as you may, To stir up Deputy Double Diligence, That comes perking forth with halberds: And for you Midsummer Eue, that watches warmest, Be but sufficiently drunk, and you're well harnessed, You Dogday! Woh. A churlish maundering Rogue, You must both beg and rob, curse and colloque, In cooler Nights the barn with Doxies fill, In Harvest lie in Haycock with your Iill. They have all their charge. You have gin't at the wrong end, To bid'em sin's the way to make 'em mend, For what they are forbid, they run to headlong. I ha' cast their Inclinations, now your service, To draw fresh blood into your Mrs. cheeks, slaves! What scornful looks the Abusive Villains threw, Upon the reverend form and face of Time! methought it appeared sorry, and went angry. 'Tis still your servant. How now? what are these? These are your Good Days, and your Bad Days, Sir, Those your Indifferent days, nor good, nor bad. But is here all? A wonder there's so many. How these broke loose, every one stops their passage, And makes inquiry after 'em. This Farmer will not cast his seed i'th' ground Before he look in Bretnor, there he finds Some word which he hugs happily, as, Ply the Box, Make Hay betimes, It falls into thy Mouth. A punctual Lady will not paint forsooth Upon his Critical days, 'twill not hold well, Nor a nice city-wedlock eat fresh Herring, Nor Periwinkles; Although she long for both, if the word be that day, Gape after gudgeons, or some fishing phrase. A Scriveners Wife will not entreat the Money-master That lies i'th' house, and gets her husband's children To furnish a poor Gentleman's Extremes, If she find, Nihil in a Bag, that morning, And so of thousand follies, these suffice To show you Good, Bad, and Indifferent Days, And all have their Inscriptions, here's, Cock a Hoop, This the Gear cottons, and this, Faint Heart, never- These, noted Black for Badness, Rods in piss. This, Post for Puddings, this Put up thy Pipes, These black and white indifferently inclining To both their natures, neither Full nor Fasting, In Dock, out Nettle,— Now to your motion, Black Knaves, and white Knaves, and you parcel Rascals, Two hypocritical parti-coloured Varlets, That play o'both hands.
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)
I will doo't in Cone. Stand forth Shrouetueſday, one'a the ſilenc'ſt Bricke-Layers, Tis in your charge to pull downe Bawdyhouſes, To ſet your Tribe aworke, cauſe ſpoyle in Shorditch, And make a Dangerous Leake there, deface Turnbul, And tickle Codpiece Rowe, ruine the Cockpit, the Poore Players ne're thriud in't, a my Cōſcience ſome Queane piſt vpon the firſt Bricke; For you, leane Lent, be ſure you vtter firſt Your rotten Herrings and keepe vp your beſt Till they be rotten, then ther's no deceit When they be all alike. You Ill-Mayday, Be as vnruly a Raſcall as you may, To ſtirre vp Deputy Double Diligence, That comes perking forth with Halberts: And for you Midſomer Eue, that watches warmeſt, Be but ſufficiently drunke, and y'are well harneſt, You Dogday! Woh. A churliſh maundring Rogue, You muſt both beg and rob, curſe and collogue, In cooler Nights the Barne with Doxies fill, In Harueſt lye in Haycock with your Iill. They haue all their charge. You haue gin't at the wrong end, To bid'em ſin's the way to make e'm mend, For what they are forbid, they run to head-long. I ha' caſt their Inclinations, now your ſeruice, To draw freſh bloud into your Mrs. cheekes, ſlaues! What ſcornfull lookes the Abuſiue Villaines threw, Vpon the reuerend forme and face of Time! Me thought it appear'd ſorry, and went angry. 'Tis ſtill your ſeruant. How now? what are theſe? Theſe are your Good Dayes, and your Bad Dayes, Sir, Thoſe your Indifferent dayes, nor good, nor bad. But is here all? A wonder there's ſo many. How theſe broke looſe, euery one ſtops their paſſage, And makes inquiry after 'em. This Farmer will not caſt his ſeed ith' ground Before he looke in Bretnor, there he finds Some word which hee hugs happily, as, Ply the Box, Make Hay betimes, It falls into thy Mouth. A punctuall Lady will not paint forſooth Vpon his Criticall dayes, twill not hold well, Nor a nice Citie-Wedlocke eate freſh Herring, Nor Perriwinkles; Although ſhe long for both, if the word be that day, Gape after Gudgins, or ſome fiſhing phraſe. A Scriueners Wife wil not intreat the Mony-maſter That lyes ith' houſe, and gets her Huſbands children To furniſh a poore Gentlemans Extremes, If ſhe find, Nihil in a Bagge, that morning, And ſo of thouſand follies, theſe ſuffice To ſhew you Good, Bad, and Indifferent Dayes, And all haue their Inſcriptions, here's, Cock a Hoop, This the Geere cottens, and this, Faint Heart, neuer▪ Theſe, noted Blacke for Badneſſe, Rods in piſſe. This, Poſt for Puddings, this Put vp thy Pipes, Theſe blacke and white indifferently inclining To both their natures, neither Full nor Faſting, In Dock, out Nettle,—Now to your motion, Blacke Knaues, and white Knaues, and you parcell Raſcals, Two hypocriticall party-colord Varlets, That play o'both hands.