Middleton, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1613 (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Swan unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
What's the matter? Nay by my troth, I know not, ask not me, he's grown too verbal, this Learning is a great Witch. Pray let me see it, I was wont to understand him. Amantissimus charissimus, he has sent the carrier's Man he says: ambobus parentibus, for a pair of Boots: patri & matri, pay the Porter, or it makes no matter. Yes by my faith Mistress, there's no true construction in that, I have took a great deal of pains, and come from the Bell sweating. Let me come to't'te, for I was a Scholar forty years ago, 'tis thus I warrant you: Matri, it makes no matter: ambobus parentibus, for a pair of Boots: patri, pay the Porter: amantissimis charissimis, he's the carrier's Man, and his name is Sims, and there he says true, forsooth my name is Sims indeed, I have not forgot all my learning. A Money matter, I thought I should hit on't. Go thou art an old Fox, there's a Tester for thee. If I see your Worship at Goose Fair, I have a Dish of Birds for you. Why dost dwell at Bow? All my life time Sir I could ever say Bo, to a Goose. Farewell to your Worship. A merry Porter. How can he choose but be so, coming with Cambridge Letters from our Son Tim? What's here, maximus diligo, Faith I must to my learned Counsel with this gear, 'twill ne'er be discerned else. Go to my Cousen then, at Inns of Court. Fie they are all for French, they speak no Latin. The Parson then will do it. Nay he disclaims it, calls Latin Papistry, he will not deal with it. What is't you lack Gentleman? Pray weigh this Chain. Now Wench thou art welcome to the Heart of the City of London. Dugat a whee. You can thank me in English if you list. I can Sir simply. 'Twill serve to pass Wench, 'twas strange that I should lie with thee so often, to leave thee without English, that were unnatural, I bring thee up to turn thee into Gold Wench, and make thy fortune shine like your bright Trade, a goldsmith's Shop sets out a City Maid. Davy Dahanna, not a word. Mum, mum Sir. Here you must pass for a pure Virgin. Pure Welsh Virgin, she lost her Maidenhead in Brekenockeshire. I hear you mumble Davy. I have Teeth Sir, I need not mumble yet this forty years. The Knave bites plaguely. What's your price Sir? A hundred pound Sir. A hundred marks the utmost, 'tis not for me else. What Sir Walter Whorehound? O Death. Why Daughter. Faith the Baggage a bashful Girl Sir, these young things are shamefast, beside you have a presence sweet Sir Walter, able to daunt a Maid brought up i'the City, A brave Court Spirit makes our virgin's quiver, and kiss with trembling Thighs. Yet see she comes Sir.
seed 43: T5 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What's the matter? Nay by my troth, I know not, aske not me, he's growne too verball, this Learning is a great Witch. Pray let me ſee it, I was wont to vnderſtand him. Amantiſſimus chariſſimus, he has ſent the Carryers Man he ſayes: ambobus parentibus, for a paire of Boots: patri & matri, pay the Porter, or it makes no matter. Yes by my faith Miſtris, there's no true conſtruction in that, I haue tooke a great deale of paines, and come from the Bell ſweating. Let me come to'te, for I was a Schollar forty yeers ago, 'tis thus I warrant you: Matri, it makes no matter: ambobus parentibus, for a paire of Boots: patri, pay the Porter: amantiſſimis chariſſimis, he's the Carryers Man, and his name is Sims, and there he ſayes true, forſooth my name is Sims indeed, I haue not forgot all my learning. A Money matter, I thought I ſhould hit on't. Goe thou art an old Fox, ther's a Teſter for thee. If I ſee your Worſhip at Gooſe Faire, I haue a Diſh of Birds for you. Why doſt dwell at Bow? All my life time Sir I could euer ſay Bo, to a Gooſe. Farewell to your Worſhip. A merry Porter. How can he chooſe but be ſo, comming with Cambridge Letters from our Sonne Tim? What's here, maximus diligo, Faith I muſt to my learned Counſell with this geere, 'twill nere be diſcernd elſe. Goe to my Couſen then, at Innes of Court. Fye they are all for French, they ſpeake no Latine. The Parſon then will doe it. Nay he diſclaimes it, calles Latine Papiſtry, he will not deale with it. What iſt you lacke Gentleman? Pray weigh this Chayne. Now Wench thou art well-come to the Heart of the Citie of London. Dugat a whee. You can thanke me in Engliſh if you liſt. I can Sir ſimply. 'Twill ſerue to paſſe Wench, 'twas ſtrange that I ſhould lye with thee ſo often, to leaue thee without Engliſh, that were vnnaturall, I bring thee vp to turne thee into Gold Wench, and make thy fortune ſhine like your bright Trade, a Gold-Smithes Shop ſets out a Citie Mayd. Dauy Dahanna, not a word. Mum, mum Sir. Here you muſt paſſe for a pure Virgine. Pure Welch Virgine, ſhe loſt her Maydenhead in Brekenocke-Shire. I heare you mumble Dauy. I haue Teeth Sir, I need not mumble yet this forty yeeres. The Knaue bites plaguely. What's your price Sir? A hundred pound Sir. A hundred markes the vtmoſt, 'tis not for me elſe. What Sr Walter Whorehound? O Death. Why Daughter. Faith the Baggage a baſhful Girle Sir, theſe young things are ſhamefaſt, beſides you haue a preſence ſweet Sr Walter, able to daunt a Mayd brought vp i'the Citie, A braue Court Spirit makes our Virgines quiuer, and kiſſe with trembling Thighes. Yet ſee ſhe comes Sir.