Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn. This Minion here, this myneing Trull, Both please me wore a thousand fold: Then all the earth that is so full. f precious stones, Soluer and Golde. Wherefore let my father spire and spurn, My fantasy will never turn. What soever I did, it was for her sak It was for her love, and only pleasure, I count it no labour, such labour to take, In getting to me so high a treasure. Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn. This day I intended for to be merry, Although my hard Father be far hence. I know no cause for to be bevye, For all this cost and great expense. Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn. How like ye this song, my own sweet Rose, Is it well made for our purpose? I never hard in all my life a better, Moore pleasmante, more meet for the matter, Now let us go then, the morning is nigh gone We can not any longer here remain: Farewell good Masters everyechone, Till from the Church we come again. Sirs, by my truth it is a world to see, The exceeding negligence of every one. Even from the highest to the lowest degree, Both goodness and conscience is clean gone. There is a youge gentleman in this town, Who this same day now must be married: Yet though I would bestow a Crown, That knave the Clerk can not be spied. For he is safe if that in the Alehouse, He may sit typling of Nut brown Ale: That often be comes forth as drunk as Mouse, With a nose of his own not greatly pale, And this is not once, but every day, Almost of my faith, through out the whole year, That he these tricks doth use to play, Without all shame, dreable and fear. He knoweh himself that yester night, The said young gentleman came to me, And then desired, that he might This morning beiymes married be. But now I doubt it will be high noon, Ere that this busynes be quite ended: Unless the knaves she fool come very soon, That this same thing may be dispatched, And therefore since that this naughty pache, Hath at this present me thus served. He is like hence forward my good will to lack or else b●wyss I might be judged. I am taught hereafter, how such a one to trust, In day matter concerning the Church, For if I should, I perceive that I must, Of mine own honesty lose very much. And yet for all this, from week to week, For his stipend and wages he never crieth, And for the same continually doth seek, As from time to time plainly appeareth, But whither his wages he hath deserved, Unto you all I do me report, Since that his duty he hath not fulfilled,
seed 43: T6 · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wherfore let my father ſpyte and ſpurne, My fntſye wyll neuer turne. ¶ This Mynion here, this myneing Trull, oth leſe me wore a thouſande folde: Then all the earthe that is ſo full. f precious ſtones, Soluer and Golde. Wherfore let my father ſpyre and ſpurne, My fantaſye wyll neuer turne. ¶ What ſoeuer I dyd, it was for her ſak It was for her ſoue, and onely pleaſure, I counte it no laboure, ſuch laboure to take, In gettynge to me ſo hyghe a treaſure. Wherfore let my father ſpyte and ſpurne, My fantaſie wyll neuer turne. ¶ This daye I intended for to be mery, Althoughe my harde Father be farre hence. I knowe no cauſe for to be beuye, For all this coſte and great expence. Wherfore let my father ſpyte and ſpurne, My fantaſye wyll neuer turne. ¶ How lyke ye this ſonge, my owne ſwete Roſe, Is it well made for our purpoſe? ¶ I neuer harde in all my lyfe a better, More pleaſmante, more meete for the matter, Now let vs go then, the mornynge is nye gone We can not any longer here remaine: Farewell good Maſters eueryechone, Tyll from the Churche we come agayne. Syrs, by my trouthe it is a worlde to ſee, The excedynge negligence of euery one. Euen from the hyeſt to the loweſt degree, Both goodnes and conſcience is cleane gone. There is a youge gentelman in this towne, Who this ſame daye now muſt be maryed: Yet thoughe I woulde beſtowe a Crowne, That knaue the Clarke can not be ſpyed. For he is ſafe if that in the Alehouſe, He maye ſyt typlyng of Nut browne Ale: That oft be commes foorth as dronke as Mouſe, With a noſe of his owne not greatly pale, And this is not once, but euery daye, Almoſt of my faith, throughe out the whole yeare, That he theſe trickes doth vſe to playe, Without all ſhame, dreable and feare. He knoweh him ſelfe that yeſter nyghte, The ſayde yonge gentelman came to me, And then deſyred, that he myght This mornynge beiymes maryed be. But now I doubte it wyll be hye noone, Ere that this bufynes be quite ended: Vnleſſe the knauyſ ſhe foole come very ſoone, That this ſame thinge maye be diſpatched, And therfore ſynce that this noughty pache, Hath at this preſent me thus ſerued. He is like hence forwarde my good wyll to lacke Orels bwyſs I myght be iudged. I am taught hereafter, howe ſuch a one to truſt, In day matter concernynge the Churche, For if I ſhulde, I perceyue that I muſt, Of mye owne honeſtie looſe verye much. And yet for all this, from weeke to weeke, For his ſtypende and wages he neuer cryeth, And for the ſame contynually doth ſeeke, As from tyme to tyme playnely appeareth, But whyther his wages he hath deſerued, Vnto you all I do me reporte, Since that his duetie he hath not fulfylled,