The Renegado, or The Gentleman of Venice · chunk 6 of 39
Massinger, Philip · published 1630 · first performed or written 1624 [licensed for stage, Sep 17] [incorrect] (Annals) tragicomedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit T57 Ships, merchants and pirates typicality 0.82 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T57: ship, sea, master, sail, home, money, pisaro, life, ships, till.
Be constant in That resolution, I'll abroad again, And learn as far as it is possible What may concern Paulina? Some two hours Shall bring me back. All blessings wait upon you. Cold doings, Sir, a Mart do you call this? 'slight A pudding wife, or a Witch with a thrum Cap That sells Ale under ground to such as come To know their Fortunes, in a dead Vacation Have ten to one more stirring. we must be patient Your seller by retail ought to be angry But when he's fingering money. Here are company; Defend me my good Angel, I behold A Basilisk! What do you lack? what do you lack? pure dishes, clear Crystal glasses, a dumb Mistress to make love too? What do you lack gentlemen? Thy Mother for a Bawd, or if thou hast A handsome one thy sister for a Whore, Without these do not tell me of your trash Or I shall spoil your Market. Old Grimaldi? Zounds wherefore do we put to Sea, or stand The Raging winds aloft, or piss upon The foamy waves when they rage most? deride The thunder of the enemy's shot, board boldly A merchant's ship for prize, though we behold The desperate Gunner ready to give fire And blow the deck up? Wherefore shake we off Those scrupulous rags of charity, and conscience, Invented only to keep Churchmen warm, Or feed the hungry months of famished beggars; But when we touch the shore to wallow in All sensual pleasures. ay but Noble Captain To spare a little for an after clap Were not improvidence. Hang consideration: When this is spent is not our ship the same? Our courage too the same to fetch in more? The earth where it is fertilest returns not More than three harvests, whilst the glorious Sun Posts through the Zodiac, and makes up the year: But the Sea, which is our Mother, (that embraceth Both the rich Indies in her outstretched arms) Yields every day a crop if we dare reap it. No, no my Mates, let Tradesmen think of thrift, And Usurers hoard up, let our expense Be as our comings in are without bounds: We are the Neptunes of the Ocean, And such as traffic, shall pay sacrifice Of their best lading; I'll have this Canvas Your boy wears lined with Tissue, and the cates You taste, served up in gold; though we carouse The tears of Orphans in our Greekish wines, The sighs of undone Widows, paying for The music bought to cheer us; ravished Virgins To slavery sold for Coin to feed our riots, We will have no compunction. Do you hear sir, We have paid for our Ground? Humh. And humh too, For all your big words, get you further off, And hinder not the prospect of our shop Or— What will you do? Nothing sir, but pray Your worship to give me handsel.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T46 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Be constant in That resolution, I'le abroade againe, And learne as far as it is possible What may concerne Paulina? Some two houres Shall bring me backe. All blessings vvaite vpon you. Cold doings, Sir, a Mart doe you call this? Slight A pudding wife, or a Witch with a thrumbe Cappe That sells Ale vnder grownd to such as come To know their Fortunes, in a dead Vacation Haue ten to one more stirring. Wee must be patient Your seller by retayle ought to be angry But when hee's fingering money. Heere are company; Defend me my good Angell, I behold A Basiliske! What doe you lacke? what doe you lacke? pure dishes, cleere Christall glasses, a dumbe Mistres to make loue too? What doe you lacke gentlemen? Thy Mother for a Bavvde, or if thou hast A hansome one thy sister for a Whore, Without these doe not tell me of your trash Or I shall spoyle your Market. —Old Grimaldy? Zoundes wherefore doe wee put to Sea, or stand The Raging windes aloft, or pisse vpon The Fomie waues vvhen they rage most? deride The thunder of the enemies shot, boorde boldly A Marchants shippe for prize, though we behold The desperate Gunner ready to giue fire And blow the decke vp? Wherefore shake vve off Those scrupulous ragges of charitie, and conscience, Inuented onely to keepe Churchmen warme, Or feede the hungry monthes of famished beggers; But vvhen we touch the shore to wallovve in All sensuall pleasures. I but Noble Captaine To spare a little for an after clappe Were not improuidence. Hang consideration: When this is spent is not our shippe the same? Our courage too the same to fetch in more? The earth where it is fertillest returnes not More then three haruests, vvhilst the glorious Sunne Posts through the Zodiacke, and makes vp the yeere: But the Sea, vvhich is our Mother, (that embraceth Both the rich Indies in her outstrecht armes) Yeeldes euery day a croppe if vve dare reape it. No, no my Mates, let Tradesmen thinke of thrift, And Vsurers hoord vp, let our expence Be as our commings in are vvithout bounds: We are the Neptunes of the Ocean, And such as trastique, shall pay sacrifice Of their best lading; Ile haue this Canuas Your boy vveares linde vvith Tissue, and the cates You taste, serude vp in gold; though vve carouse The teares of Orphanes in our Greekish vvines, The sighes of vndone Widowes, paying for The musique bought to cheere vs; rauishde Virgins To slauerie sold for Coyne to feede our riots, We vvill haue no compunction. Doe you heare sir, We haue payde for our Ground? Humh. And humh too, For all your bigge vvords, get you further off, And hinder not the prospect of our shoppe Or— What vvill you doe? Nothing sir, but pray Your worship to giue me hansell.