Renaissance Drama — Topics · seed 42

Ralph Roister Doister · chunk 7 of 39

Udall, Nicholas · published 1566 · first performed or written 1552 [1552-1554(?)] (Annals)
comedy
unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 509 words

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Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.

Wherein so ere ye drink, I wot ye drink all up. By Cock and well sowed, my good Tibet Talk apace. And e'en as well knit my noun Annot Alyface. See what a sort she keepeth that must be my wife. Shall not I when I have her, lead a merry life? Welcome my good wench, and sit here by me just. And how doth our old beldame here, Madge Mumblecrust? Chide, and find faults, and threaten to complain. To make us poor girls shent to her is small gain. I did neither chide, nor complain, nor threaten. It would grieve my heart to see one of them beaten. I did nothing but did her work and hold her peace. So would I, if you could your clattering cease: But the devil can not make old trot hold her tongue. Let all these matters pass, and we three sing a song, So shall we pleasantly both the time beguile now, And eke dispatch all our works ere we can tell how. I shrew them that say nay, and that shall not be I. And I am well content. Sing on then by and by. And I will not away, but listen to their song, Yet Merrygreek and my folks tarry very long. Pipe merry Annot. etc. Trilla, Trilla, Trillarie. Work Tibet, work Annot, work Margerie. Sew Tibet, knit Annot, spin Margerie. Let us see who shall win the victory. This sleeve is not willing to be sewed I trow. A small thing might make me all in the ground to throw. Pipe merry Annot. etc. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. What Tibet, what Annot, what Margerie. Ye sleep, but we do not, that shall we try. Your fingers be numbed, our work will not lie. If ye do so again, well I would advise you nay. In good sooth one stop more, and I make holy day. Pipe Merry Annot. etc. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. Now Tibbet, now Annot, now Margerie. Now whippet apace for the mastery, But it will not be, our mouth is so dry. Ah, each finger is a thumb today methink, I care not to let all alone, choose it swim or sink. Pipe Merry Annot. etc. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. When Tibet, when Annot, when Margerie. I will not, I can not, no more can I. Then give we all over, and there let it lie. There it lieth, the worst is but a curried coat, Tut I am used thereto, I care not a groat. Have we done singing since? then will I in again, Here I found you, and here I leave both twain. And I will not be long after: Tib Talk apace. What is the matter? Yond stood a man all this space And hath heard all that ever we spoke together. marry the more lout he for his coming hither. And the less good he can to listen maidens talk. I care not and I go bid him hence for to walk: It were well done to know what he maketh here away.
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Details

Metadata, position in the edition, topic in the other seeds
PlayRalph Roister Doister
AuthorUdall, Nicholas
Publication year (edition)1566
First performance / composition (Annals)1552 [1552-1554(?)]
First performance (BritDrama)1552 [1550-1553]
Genre (British Drama)comedy
Play typeInterlude;Nonprofessional
Edition / TCP / DEEPedition 83 · TCP A14193 · DEEP 71
Edition roleRepresentative edition — used in the analysis
Positionnodes 327–386 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 7 of 39 in this edition
Length509 words · 699 tokens
Topic (seed 42)unassigned by HDBSCAN · nearest topic T44 — Drinking: wine, ale and taverns at 0.700
Other seedsseed 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)
Wherein so ere ye drinke, I wote ye drinke all vp. By Cock and well sowed, my good Tibet Talke apace. And een as well knitte my nowne Annot Alyface. See what a sort she kepeth that must be my wife. Shall not I when I haue hir, leade a merrie life? Welcome my good wenche, and sitte here by me iust. And howe doth our olde beldame here, Mage Mumblecrust? Chyde, and finde faultes, and threaten to complaine. To make vs poore girles shent to hir is small gaine. I dyd neyther chyde, nor complaine, nor threaten. It woulde grieue my heart to sée one of them beaten. I dyd nothyng but dyd hir worke and holde hir peace. So would I, if you coulde your clattering ceasse: But the deuill can not make olde trotte holde hir tong. Let all these matters passe, and we thrée sing a song, So shall we pleasantly bothe the tyme beguile now, And eke dispatche all our workes ere we can tell how. I shrew them that say nay, and that shall not be I. And I am well content. Sing on then by and by. And I will not away, but listen to their song, Yet Merygreeke and my folkes tary very long. Pipe mery Annot. &c. Trilla, Trilla, Trillarie. Worke Tibet, worke Annot, worke Margerie. Sewe Tibet, knitte Annot, spinne Margeri. Let vs see who shall winne the victorie. This sleue is not willyng to be sewed I trowe. A small thing might make me all in the grounde to throwe. Pipe merrie Annot. &c. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. What Tibet, what Annot, what Margerie. Ye sléepe, but we doe not, that shall we trie. Your fingers be nombde, our worke will not lie. If ye doe so againe, well I would aduise you nay. In good sooth one stoppe more, and I make holy day. Pipe Mery Annot. &c. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. Nowe Tibbet, now Annot, nowe Margerie. Nowe whippet apace for the maystrie, But it will not be, our mouth is so drie. Ah, eche inger is a thombe to day me thinke, I care not to let all alone, choose it swimme or sinke. Pipe Mery Annot. &c. Trilla. Trilla. Trillarie. When Tibet, when Annot, when Margerie. I will not, I can not, no more can I. Then giue we all ouer, and there let it lye. There it lieth, the worste is but a curried cote, Tut I am vsed therto, I care not a groe. Haue we done singyng since? then will I in againe, Here I founde you, and here I leaue both twaine. And I will not be long after: Tib Talke apace. What is y• matter? Yond stode a man al this spac And hath hearde all that euer we spake togyther. Mary the more loute e for his comming hither. And the lesse good he can to listen maidens talke. I care not and I go byd him hence for to walke: It were well done to knowe what he maketh here away.