Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds typicality 0.73 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd, The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat away myself, and live: Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, Sir: But yet Sir I would prove. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison Officer: Correction, and Instruction must both work E'er this rude beast will profit. He must before the Deputy Sir, he has given him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whoremaster: if he be a Whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. That we were all, as some would seem to be From our faults, as faults from seeming free. His neck will come to your waist, a Cord sir. I spy comfort, I cry bail: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pygmalion's Images newly made woman to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutched? What reply? Ha'? What sayst thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drowned i' th' last rain? Ha'? What sayst thou Troth? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it? Still thus, and thus: still worse? How doth my dear Morsel, thy Mistress? Procures she still? Ha'? Troth sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Ever your fresh Whore; and your powdered Bawd, an vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey? Yes faith sir. Why 'tis not amiss Pompey: farewell: go say I sent thee thither: for debt Pompey? Or how? For being a bawd; for being a bawd. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why 'tis his right. Bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too. Bawd borne. Farewell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turn good husband now Pompey, you will keep the house. I hope Sir, your good Worship will be my bail? No indeed will I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to increase your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu trusty Pompey. Bless you Friar. And you. Does Bridges paint still, Pompey? Ha'? Come your ways sir, come. You will not bail me then Sir? Then Pompey, nor now: what news abroad Friar? What news? Come your ways sir, come.
nodes 1184–1220 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 43 in this edition
Length
504 words · 719 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T47 — Knaves, thieves and bawdscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.732 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T46 · seed 44: T41 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Fie, ſirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd, The euill that thou cauſeſt to be done, That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a backe From ſuch a filthie vice: ſay to thy ſelfe, From their abhominable and beaſtly touches I drinke, I eate away my ſelfe, and liue: Canſt thou beleeue thy liuing is a life, So ſtinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. Indeed, it do's ſtinke in ſome ſort, Sir: But yet Sir I would proue. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for ſin Thou wilt proue his. Take him to priſon Officer: Correction, and Inſtruction muſt both worke Ere this rude beaſt will profit. He muſt before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-maſter: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. That we were all, as ſome would ſeeme to bee From our faults, as faults from ſeeming free. His necke will come to your waſt, a Cord ſir. I ſpy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caeſar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What ſaiſt thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i' th laſt raine? Ha? What ſaiſt thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the vvay? Is it ſad, and few words? Or how? The tricke of it? Still thus, and thus: ſtill vvorſe? How doth my deere Morſell, thy Miſtris? Procures ſhe ſtill? Ha? Troth ſir, ſhee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and ſhe is her ſelfe in the tub. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it muſt be ſo. Euer your freſh Whore; and your pouder'd Baud, an vnſhun'd conſequence, it muſt be ſo. Art going to priſon Pompey? Yes faith ſir. Why 'tis not amiſſe Pompey: farewell: goe ſay I ſent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how? For being a baud; for being a baud. Well, then impriſon him: If impriſonment be the due of a baud, why 'tis his right▪ Baud is he doubtleſſe, and of antiquity too. Baud borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the priſon Pompey, you will turne good husband now Pompey, you vvill keepe the houſe. I hope Sir, your good Worſhip wil be my baile? No indeed vvil I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to encreaſe your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu truſtie Pompey. Bleſſe you Friar. And you. Do's Bridge paint ſtill, Pompey? Ha? Come your waies ſir, come. You will not baile me then Sir? Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier? What newes? Come your waies ſir, come.