The Two Merry Milkmaids, or The Best Words Wear the Garland · chunk 52 of 54
Cumber, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1619 [1619-1620] (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · before the Court unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
I believe I smell the meaning, stand farther off, and give room to me and the Epistoler, you challenge all men to compose? I do. With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences. 'tis right, Draw out your Pen and inkhorn, I am for you. Give 'em room, and set a Table forth. With expedition too, I put in that. No, expedition belongs to Clerks, and not to Secretaries, celerity if you will. ay sir, Celerity, I mean so. No more but so, a word's enough. But what's the subject? Why each of us is to indite an Epistle to our Mistress, is it not so? Right. Then write. This will be good mirth I hope. Ridiculous enough. So it should be, and yet my little Smirk here has conceit, he'll have some flashes. A couple of pretty scribes. The challenger has the advantage, he might premeditate. No matter, Smirks best at a start, his wit is like your Hackney, all a gallop, to which he says, utere diligentia, nec sis tantus cessator & calcoribus indigeas, which is clawing the Pole, as for example in your Challenger. He has rubbed it out it seems. Smirke goes on smoothly, without any rub, Yet there he had one. Hold bias, and a sentence then. Scripsi. Et scripsi. Very good, now lordings lend your cares. I will read it first myself. And good reason. Fairest in the world, and sweetest upon earth. So. I remember my duty to you in black and white. I would it had been black and blue. Peace. For all colours else wave under the standard of your beauty. I wonder what part of her, is Goose-turd green: That's a colour. You are the mistress of beauty. I would a said the Queen or Empress. And all other women are but your handmaids. O abominable barren. Nay Smirk silence, you must not interrupt your adversary. I can say nothing without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing. I must say nothing, or else I would say something, but here it is shall shame thee. methinks when thou stood in the sun with thy Feather on thy head, and thy Fan in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phoenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloves, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath. She would make an excellent wassail-bowl. Again. I have done. The Apples of thy breast are like the Lemons of Arabia, which makes the vessel so sweet it can never smell of the Cask. If she should that might prove the brewer's fault. Being come to your middle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the middle because of the Proverb. In Medio consistet virtus, and so I conclude: yours while mine own, and afterward if it were possible Marmaduke Ranoff. Well now let me run on, judgement I crave. Which thou shalt have.
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 beleeue I smell the meaning, stand farther off, and giue roome to me and the Epistoler, you challenge all men to compose? I do. With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences. Tis right, Draw out your Pen and Inkehorne, I am for you. Giue 'hem roome, and set a Table forth. With expedition too, I put in that. No, expedition belongs to Clarkes, and not to Secretaries, celerity if you will. I sir, Celerity, I meane so. No more but so, a words enough. But what's the subiect? Why each of vs is to indite an Epistle to our Mistresse, is it not so? Right. Then write. This will be good mirth I hope. Rediculous enough. So it shud be, and yet my little Smirke heere has conceit, hee'le haue some flashes. A couple of pretty scribes. The challenger has the aduantage, he might premeditate. No matter, Smirks best at a start, his wit is like your Hackney, all a gallop, to which hee sayes, Vtere diligentia, nec sis tantus cessator & calcoribus indigeas, which is clawing the Pole, as for example in your Challenger. He has rub'd it out it seemes. Smirke goes on smoothly, without any rub, Yet there he had one. Hold bias, and a sentence then. Scripsi. Et scripsi. Very good, now lotdings lend your cares. I will read it first my selfe. And good reason. Fairest in the world, and sweetest vpon earth. Soe. I remember my duty to you in black and white. I wud it had beene black and blew. Peace. For all coulors else waue vnder the standard of your beauty. I wonder what part of her, is Goose-urd greene: Thats a colour. You are the mistresse of beauty. I wud a said the Queene or Empresse. And all other women are but your hand-maids. O abominable barren. Nay Smirke silence, you must not interrupt your aduersary. I can say nothing without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing. I must say nothing, or else I wud say something, but heere it is shall shame thee. Me thinkes when thou standst'd in the sun with thy Feather on thy head, and thy Fanne in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phoenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloues, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath. She wud make an excellent Wassell-Bole. Againe. I haue done. The Aples of thy brest are like the Lemans of Arabia, which makes the vessell so sweete it can neuer smell of the Caske. If she shud that might proue the Brewers fault. Being come to your middle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the middle because of the Prouerbe. In Medio consistet virtus, and so I conclude: yours while mine owne, and afterward if it were possible Marmaduke Ranoff. Well now let me run on, iudgement I craue. Which thou shalt haue.