Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
In good sooth Madge, ●en so would I, if I were thou. But no more of this fond talk now, let us go in, And see thou no more move me folly to begin. Nor bring me no 〈◊〉 letters for no man's pleasure, But thou know from whom. I warrant ye shall be sure. WHere is the house I go to, before or behind? I know not where nor when nor how I shall it find. If I had ten men's bodies and legs and strength, This trotting that I have must needs lame 〈◊〉 at length. And now that my master is new set on wooing, I trust there shall none of us find lack of doing: Two pair of shoes a day will now be too little To serve me, I must trot to and fro so 〈◊〉. Go bear me this token, carry me this letter, Now this is the best way, now that way is better. Up before day sirs, I charge you, an hour 〈...〉, Trudge, do me this message, and bring word quick again, If one miss but a minute, than his arms and wounds, I would not have slacked for ten thousand pounds. Nay see I beseech you, if my most trusty page, Go not now about to hinder my marriage, So fervent hot wooing, and so far from winning, I trow never was any creature living, With every woman is he in some loves pang, Then up to our lute at midnight, twangled 〈◊〉 twang, Then twang with our sonnets, and twang with our dumps, And heigh-ho from our heart, as heavy as lead lumps: Then to our recorder with toodleloodle p●●pe As the owlet out of an ivy 〈◊〉 should hoop. Anon to our gittern, thro●●ple 〈◊〉 thrumpledum thrum, Thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum, thrumpledum thrum. Of Songs and Ballads also he is a maker, And that can he as finely do as Jack Raker, Yea and extempore will he ditties compose, Foolish Marsias near made the like I suppose, Yet must we sing them, as good stuff I undertake, As for such a pen man is well fitting to make. Ah for these long nights, heigh how, when will it be day? I fear ere I come she will be wooed away. Then when answer is made that it may not be, O death why 〈◊〉 thou not? by and by (sayth he) But then, from his heart to put away sorrow, He is as far in with some new love next morrow. But in the mean season▪ we trudge and we trot, From dayspring to midnight, I sit not, nor rest not. And now am I sent to dame Christian Custance: But I fear it will end with a mock for pastance. I bring her a ring, with a token in a clout, And by all guess, this san●●● is her house out of doubt. I know it now perfect▪ I am in my right way. And lo yond the old nurse that was with us last day.
seed 43: T6 · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
In good sooth Madge, en so would I, if I were thou. But no more of this fond talke now, let vs go in, And sée thou no more moue me folly to begin. Nor bring mée no letters for no mans pleasure, But thou know from whom. I warrant ye shall be sure. WHere is the house I goe to, before or behinde? I know not where nor when nor how I shal it finde. If I had ten mens bodies and legs and strength, This trotting that I haue must néedes lame at length. And nowe that my maister is new set on wowyng, I trust there shall none of vs finde lacke of doyng: Two paire of shoes a day will nowe be too litle To serue me, I must trotte to and fro so . Go beare me thys token, carrie me this letter, Nowe this is the best way, nowe that way is better. Up before day sirs, I charge you, an houre , Trudge, do me thys message, and bring wde quicke againe, If one misse but a minute, then his armes and woundes, I woulde not haue slacked for ten thousad poundes. Nay sée I beséeche you, if my most trustie page, Goe not nowe aboute to nder my mariage, So eruent hotte wowyng, and so farre from wining, I trowe neuer was any creature liuyng, With euery woman is he in some loues pang, Then vp to our lut at midnight, twangled twang, Then twang with our sonets, and twang with our dumps, And beyhogh from our heart, as heauie as lead lumpes: Then to our recorder with toodleloodle ppe As the howlet out of an yuie should hpe. Anon to our gitterne, throple thrumpledum thrum, Thrumpledum, thrumpledū, thrumpledum, thrūpledum thrum. Of Songs and Balades also he is a maker, And that can he as finely doe as Iacke Raker, Yea and extempore will he dities compose, Foolishe Marsias nere made the like I suppose, Yet must we sing them, as good stuffe I vndertake, As for such a pen man is well sittyng to make. Ah for these long nights, hey how, when will it be day? I feare ere I come she will be wowed away. Then when aunswere is made that it may not bée, O death why thou not? by and by (sayth he) But then, from his heart to put away sorowe, He is as farre in with some newe loue next morowe. But in the meane season▪ we trudge and we trot, From dayspring to midnyght, I sit not, nor rest not. And now am I sent to dame Christian Custance: But I feare it will ende with a mocke for pastance. I bring hir a ring, with a token in aclote, And by all gesse, this san is hir house out of dut. I knowe it nowe perfect▪ I am in my right way. And loe yond the olde nourse that was wyth vs last day.