Middleton, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1613 (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Swan T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds typicality 0.85 · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
That shall not serve your turn, what a Rogue's this, how cunningly he came over us? hushed, stand close. I have scaped well thus far, they say the Knaves are wondrous hot and busy. By your leave Sir, We must see what you have under your Cloak there. Have? I have nothing. No, do you tell us that, what makes this lump stick out then, we must see Sir. What will you see Sir, a pair of Sheets, and two of my wife's foul Smocks, going to the Washers? O we love that sight well, you cannot please us better: What do you gull us, call you these Shirts and Smocks? Now a Pox choke you, You have cozened me and five of my wife's kindred Of a good Dinner, we must make it up now With Herrings and Milk-pottage. 'Tis all veal. All veal, Pox the worse luck, I promised faithfully to send this morning a fat quarter of Lamb, to a kind Gentlewoman in Turnbull street that longs, and how I'm crossed. Let's share this, and see what hap comes next then. Agreed, stand close again, another booty, What's he? Sir, by your favour. Meaning me Sir? Good Mr Oliver, cry thee mercy, i'faith. What hast thou there? A Rack of Mutton Sir, and halfe a Lamb, You know my Mistress's diet. Go, go, we see thee not, away, keep close, Heart let him pass, thou'lt never have the wit To know our benefactors. I have forgot him. 'Tis M. Beggerland's man the wealthy Merchant That is in fee with us. Now I have a feeling of him. You know he purchased the whole Lent together Gave us ten groats a piece on Ash-wednesday. True, true. A Wench. Why then stand close indeed. Women had need of wit, if they'll shift here, And she that hath wit, may shift anywhere. Look, look, poor Fool, She has left the rump uncovered too, More to betray her, this is like a Murderer, That will outface the deed with a bloody Band. What time of the year is't Sister? O sweet Gentlemen, I am a poor Servant, Let me go. You shall Wench, but this must stay with us. O you undo me Sir, 'Tis for a wealthy Gentlewoman that takes Physic Sir, The Doctor does allow my Mistress Mutton, O as you tender the dear life of a Gentlewoman, I'll bring my Master to you, he shall show you A true authority from the higher powers, And I'll run every foot. Well, leave your Basket then, And run and spare not. Will you swear then to me, To keep it till I come. Now by this light I will. What say you Gentleman? What a strange Wench 'tis? Would we might perish else. Nay then I run Sir. And ne'er return I hope.
nodes 570–632 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 12 of 34 in this edition
Length
473 words · 646 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T47 — Knaves, thieves and bawdscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.846 (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)
That ſhall not ſerue your turn, what a Rogue's this, how cunningly he came ouer vs? Huſht, ſtand cloſe. I haue ſcap't well thus farre, they ſay the Knaues are wondrous hot and buſie. By your leaue Sir, We muſt ſee what you haue vnder your Cloake there. Haue? I haue nothing. No, doe you tell vs that, what makes this lumpe ſticke out then, we muſt ſee Sir. What will you ſee Sir, a paire of Sheets, and two of my Wiues foule Smocks, going to the Waſhers? O we loue that ſight well, you cannot pleaſe vs better: What doe you gull vs, call you theſe Shirts and Smockes? Now a Poxe choake you, You haue cozend me and fiue of my Wiues kinred Of a good Dinner, we muſt make it vp now With Herrings and Milke-potage. 'Tis all Veale. All Veale, Poxe the worſe lucke, I promis'd faithfully to ſend this morning a fat quarter of Lambe, to a kind Gentlewoman in Turnebull ſtreet that longs, and how I'me croſt. Let's ſhare this, and ſee what hap comes next then. Agreed, ſtand cloſe againe, another bootie, What's he? Sir, by your fauour. Meaning me Sir? Good Mr Oliuer, cry thee mercie, I faith. What haſt thou there? A Racke of Mutton Sir, and halfe a Lambe, You know my Miſtriſſes dyet. Goe, goe, we ſee thee not, away, keepe cloſe, Heart let him paſſe, thou'lt neuer haue the wit To know our benefactors. I haue forgot him. 'Tis M. Beggerlands man the wealthy Merchant That is in fee with vs. Now I haue a feeling of him. You know he purchaſt the whole Lent together Gaue vs ten groats a peece on Aſh-wenſday. True, true. A Wench. Why then ſtand cloſe indeed. Women had need of wit, if they'le ſhift here, And ſhe that hath wit, may ſhift any-where. Looke, looke, poore Foole, She has left the Rumpe vncouer'd too, More to betray her, this is like a Murdrer, That will out-face the deed with a bloody Band. What time of the yeere iſt Siſter? O ſweet Gentlemen, I am a poore Seruant, Let me goe. You ſhall Wench, but this muſt ſtay with vs. O you vndoe me Sir, 'Tis for a welthy Gentlewoman that takes Phyſicke Sir, The Doctor do's allow my Miſtris Mutton, O as you tender the deere life of a Gentlewoman, I'le bring my Maſter to you, he ſhall ſhew you A true authoritie from the higher powers, And I'le run euerie foot. Well, leaue your Basket then, And run and ſpare not. Will you ſweare then to me, To keepe it till I come. Now by this light I will. What ſay you Gentleman? What a ſtrange Wench 'tis? Would we might periſh elſe. Nay then I run Sir. And ne're returne I hope.