Renaissance Drama — Topics · seed 42

Wine, Beer, and Ale Together by the Ears (Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco Contending for Superiority) · chunk 1 of 10

Anonymous · published 1629 · first performed or written 1625 [1624-1626(?)] (Annals)
dialogue
unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 486 words

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Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.

NVutmegge? Sugar? well met, how chance you wait not upon your Master, where's Wine now? Oh sometimes without Sugar, all the while he's well if I be in his company, 'tis but for fashion sake, I wait upon him into a room now and then, but am not regarded: marry when he is ill, he makes much of me, who but Sugar? but to my remembrance I have not been in his presence this fortnight, I hope shortly he will not know me, though he meet me in his drink. Thou hast a sweet life in the mean time Sugar. But thou art tied to more attendance Nutmeg upon your Master Beer. Faith no, I am free now and then, though I be his Apprentice still, Nutmeg hath more friends to trust to then Beer: I can be welcome to Wine thy master sometimes, and to the honest Country man Ale too. But now I talk of Ale, when didst see his man prithee? Who Tost. The same. I meet him at Tavern every day. When shall thou, and he, and I, meet and be merry over a Cup? I'll tell thee Nutmeg, I do not care much for his company, he's such a choleric piece, I know not what he's made of, but his quarrelling comes home to him, foot he's every day cut for it, I marvel how he escapes, this morning he had a knife thrust into him. Indeed he will be very hot sometimes. Hot? I, till he look black i'th' face again, beside, if he take an opinion there's no turning him, he'll be burnt first. I did but by chance let fall some words against Ale, and he had like to have beaten me to powder for it. How, beaten Sugar? that would be very fine i'faith; but he being bread, and thou a loaf, you should not differ so. Stand, look where he is. Then I'll be gone for we shall quarrel. Come, fear not, I'll part you, but he's drunk, ready to fall; whence comes he dropping in now. How now Tost. Nutmeg? round and sound and all of a colour, art thou there? here's all that's left of me. Nutmeg, I love thee Nutmeg. What's that a Ghost? No, 'tis your old acquaintance Sugar. Sugar: I'll beat him to pieces. Hold, hold. Nutmeg. Cannot Tossed stand without holding? Where have you been Tost? I'll tell thee, I have been with my M. Ale. Sirrah, I was very dry, and he has made me drunk: do I not crumble? I shall fall a pieces; but I'll beat Sugar for all that: I do not weigh him, he is a poor Rogue, I have known him sold for two pence, when he was young, wrapped in swaddling clouts of Paper. I know his breeding, a Drawer brought him up, and now he's grown so lumpish. Y'are a rude Tost.
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Details

Metadata, position in the edition, topic in the other seeds
PlayWine, Beer, and Ale Together by the Ears (Wine, Beer, Ale, and Tobacco Contending for Superiority)
AuthorAnonymous
Publication year (edition)1629
First performance / composition (Annals)1625 [1624-1626(?)]
First performance (BritDrama)1625 [1624-1629]
Genre (British Drama)dialogue
Play typeUniversity/Inns of Court;Nonprofessional
Edition / TCP / DEEPedition 923 · TCP A01424 · DEEP 745
Edition roleRepresentative edition — used in the analysis
Positionnodes 0–25 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 1 of 10 in this edition
Length486 words · 647 tokens
Topic (seed 42)unassigned by HDBSCAN · nearest topic T41 — Household service: masters, doors and porters at 0.778
Other seedsseed 43: T27 · seed 44: T21 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
N Ʋutmegge? Sugar? well met, how chance you waite not vpon your Maiſter, where's Wine now? Oh ſometimes without Sugar, all the while he's well if I be in his company, tis but for faſhion ſake, I waite vpon him into a roome now and then, but am not regarded: marrie when he is ill, he makes much of me, who but Sugar? but to my remembrance I haue not beene in his preſence this fortnight, I hope ſhortly he will not know me, though he meete me in his drinke. Thou haſt a ſweete life in the meane time Sugar. But thou art tied to more attendance Nutmegge vpon your Maiſter Beere. Faith no, I am free now and then, though I be his Prentice ſtill, Nutmegge hath more friends to truſt to then Beere: I can be welcome to Wine thy maſter ſometimes, and to the honeſt Countrey man Ale too. But now I talke of Ale, when didſt ſee his man prethee? Who Toſt. The ſame. I meete him at Tauerne euery day. When ſhall thou, and he, and I, meet and be merry ouer a Cuppe? Ile tell thee Nutmegge, I doe not care much for his company, he's ſuch a chollericke peece, I know not what he's made of, but his quarrelling comes home to him, fot hee's euery day cut for it, I maruell how hee ſcapes, this morning he had a knife thruſt into him. Indeed he will be very hot ſometimes. Hot? I, till he looke blacke ith' face agen, beſides, if he take an opinion ther's no turning him, hee'l be burnt firſt. I did but by chance let fall ſome words againſt Ale, and he had like to haue beaten me to powder for it. How, beaten Sugar? that would be very fine ifaith; but hee being bread, and thou a loafe, you ſhould not differ ſo. Stand, looke where he is. Then Ile be gone for we ſhall quarrell. Come, feare not, Ile part you, but he's drunke, ready to fall; whence comes hee dropping in now. How now Toſt. Nutmeg? round and ſound and all of a colour, art thou there? Heere's all thats left of me. Nutmeg, I loue thee Nutmeg. Whats that a Ghoſt? No, tis your old acquaintance Sugar. Sugar: Ile beat him to peeces. Hold, hold. Nutmegge. Cannot Toſt ſtand without holding? Where haue you beene Toſt? Ile tell thee, I haue bin with my M. Ale. Sirra, I was very drie, and he has made me drunke: doe I not crumble? I ſhall fall a pieces; but Ile beate Sugar for all that: I doe not weigh him, hee is a poore Rogue, I haue knowne him ſolde for two pence, when hee was young, wrapt in ſwadling clouts of Paper. I know his breeding, a Drawer brought him vp, and now hee's growne ſo lumpiſh. Y'are a rude Toſt.