Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) unassigned nearest T32 Rings and jewels as tokens · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T32: ring, ti, gave, finger, jewel, lady, lord, love, invisible, away.
Yes, & the smock of her charity is now all to pieces For love you bear to her, for some good turns Done you by me, give me one piece of silver. How la piece of silver! if thou wert an Angel of gold I would not put thee into white money, unless I weighed thee, and I weigh thee not a rush. A piece of silver! I never had but two calves in my life, and those my mother left me; I'll rather part from the fat of them, then from a mustard-token's worth of Argent. And so sweet Nit we crawl from thee. Adieu, demi-dandiprat, adieu Stay one word yet, you now are full of gold. I'd be sorry my dog were so full of the pox. Or any Sow of mine of the measles either. Go, go, you're beggars both, you are not worth That leather on your feet. Away, away boy. Page you do nothing but set patches on the soles of your jests. I'm glad I tried your love, which see I want not, So long as this is full. And so long as this.— so long as this. Spungius you're a pickpocket. Horcius thou hast nimmed-. so long as, not so much money is left as will buy a louse. thouart a thief, and thou liest in that gut through which thy wine runs, if thou deniest it. Thou liest deeper than the bottom of mine enraged pocket, if thou affront'st it. No blows, no bitter language, all your gold gone. Can the devil creep into ones breeches? Yes, if his horns once get into the codpiece, Come, sigh not, I so little am in love With that whose loss kills you, that see 'tis yours, All yours, divide the heap in equal share, So you will go along with me to prison, And in our mistress sorrows bear a part: Say, will you? Will we? If she were going to hanging, no gallows should part us. Let's both be turned into a rope of Onions if we do follow me then, repair your bad deeds passed, Happy are men when their best days are last, True master Angelo, pray sir lead the way. Let him lead that way, but follow thou me this way. I live in a jail. A way and shift for ourselves, she'll do well enough there, for prisoners are more hungry after mutton, than Catchpoles after prisoners. Let her starve then if a whole jail will not fill her belly. Sick to the death I fear. I meet your sorrow, With my true feeling of it. She's a Witch, A sorceress Theophilus, my son Is charmed by her enticing eyes, and like An image made of wax, her beams of beauty Melt him to nothing; all my hopes in him. And all his gotten honours find their grave In his strange dotage on her. Would when first He saw and loved her, that the earth had opened And swallowed both alive. There's hope left yet.
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)
Yes, & the smocke of her charity is now all to peeces For loue you beare to her, for some good turnes Done you by me, giue me one peece of siluer. How la peece of siluer! if thou wert an Angell of gold I would not put thee into white money, vnlesse I weigh'd thee, and I weigh thee not a rush. A peece of siluer! I neuer had but two calues in my life, and those my mother left me; Ile rather part from the fat of them, then from a mustard-tokens worth of Argent. And so sweet Nit we crawle from thee. Adieu, demi-dandiprat, adieu Stay one word yet, you now are full of gold. Ide be sorry my dog were so full of the poxc. Or any Sow of mine of the meazles either. Go, go, y'are beggers both, you are not worth That leather on your feete. Away, away boy. Page you do nothing but set patches on the soles of your iests. I'am glad I tryde your loue, which see I want not, So long as this is full. And so long as this.—so long as this. Spungius y'are a picke-pocket. Horcius thou hastnimb'd -. so long as, not so much money is left as will buy a louse. Th'art a thiese, and thou lyest in that gut through which thy wine runs, if thou denyest it. Thou lyest deeper then the bottome of mine enraged pocket, if thou affrontst it. No blowes, no bitter language, all your gold gone. Can the diuell creepe into ones breeches? Yes, if his hornes once get into the codpeece, Come, sigh not, I so little am in loue With that whose losse kils you, that see tis yours, All yours, deuide the heape in equall share, So you will goe along with me to prison, And in our mistresse sorrowes beare a part: Say, will you? Will we? If she were going to hanging, no gallowes should part vs. Lets both be turnd into a rope of Onyons if we do follow me then, repaire your bad deeds past, Happy are men when their best dayes are last, True master Angele, pray sir leade the way. Let him leade that way, but follow thou me this way. I liue in a Iayle. A way and shift for our selues, sheele do wel enough there, for prisoners are more hungry after mutton, then Catchpoles after prisoners. Let her starue then if a whole Iayle will not fill her belly. SIcke to the death I feare. I meete your sorrow, With my true feeling of it. She's a Witch, A sorceresse Theophilus, my sonne Is charm'd by her enticing eyes, and like An image made of waxe, her beames of beauty Melt him to nothing; all my hopes in him. And all his gotten honours finde their graue In his strange dotage on her. Would when first He saw and lou'd her, that the earth had opend And swallowd both aliue. There's hope left yet.