Preston, Thomas · published 1570 · first performed or written 1561 [c.1558-1569] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
And thou call'st me knave thou art an other: My name is Job and Hob my next Neighbour. Hob and Job, a ye country Patches: A ye fools ye have made wrong matches. You have spoken treason against the king's grace: For it I will accuse ye before his face. Then for the same ye shallbe martyred: At the lest ye shall be hanged, drawn and quartered: O gentleman ye shall have two Pear pies and tell not of me. By God a vat Goose I'll give thee. I think no hurt by my Vathers soul I zweare: Chave lived well all my life time my naybors among: And now chould be loath to come to zuch wrong. To be hanged and quartered the grief would be great: A foul evil on thee Hob, who bid thee on it treat? Vor it was thou that first did him name. Thou liest like a varlet, and thou zaist the same, It was zuch a voolish Lob. thou: Speak many words and by cod's nails I vow: Upon thy pate my staff I will lay. By the Mass I will 'cause them to make a fray. Yea Job thou sayest true, all came through him. Bum vay thou Hob. a little would make me ye trim. Give thee a zawp on thy nose till thy heart ache: If thou darest do it, else man cry creak. I trust before thou hurt me: With my staff I'll make a Lob. thee. O the body of me husband Hob, what mean you to fight: For the passion of God, no more blows smite. Neighbours and friends so long, and now to fall out: What? in your age to seem so stout? If I had not parted ye, one had killed another: I had not cared I swear by God's mother. Shake hands again at the request of me: As ye have been friends, so friends still be. Bum troth cham content, and zaist word neighbour Job: I am content agreed neighbour Hob. So, get you to market, no longer stay. And with yonder knave let me make a fray. Content wife Marian, I'll do as thou dost say: But buss me ich pray thee at going away. Thou whoreson knave & prick-eared boy, why didst thou let them fight? If one had killed another here, couldst thou their deaths requited? It bears a sign by this thy deed, a cowardly knave thou art: Else wouldst thou draw the weapon thine, like a man them to part What Marian may be good, are you come prattling? You may hap get a box on the ear, with your talking. If they had killed one another, I had not cared a pease: A villain, myself on thee I must ease. Give me a box on the ear? that will I try: Who shallbe Master thou shalt see by and by. O not more, no more I beseech you heartily: Even now I yield, and give you the mastery.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And thou calſt me knaue thou art an other: My name is Lob and Hob my next Naybor. Hob and Lob, a ye cuntry Patches: A ye fooles ye haue made wrong matches. Ye haue ſpoken treaſon againſt the kings grace: For it I wil accuſe ye before his face. Then for the ſame ye ſhalbe martered: At the leaſt ye ſhall be hangd, drawn and quartered: O gentleman ye ſhall haue two Peare pyes and tel not of me. By God a vat Gooſe chil giue thée. I think no hurt by my Vathers ſoule I zweare: Chaue liued wel all my life time my naybors among: And now chould be lothe to come to zuch wrong. To be hanged and quartered the gréef would be great: A foule euil on thée Hob, who bid thée on it treat? Vor it was thou that firſt did him name. Thou lyeſt like a varlet, and thou zaiſt the ſame, It was zuch a vooliſh Lob as thou: Speake many woords and by cods nailes I vow: Vpon thy pate my ſtaffe I wil lay. By the Maſſe I wil cauſe them to make a fray. Yea Lob thou ſayeſt true, all came through him. Bum vay thou Hob. a little would make me ye trim. Giue thée a zawp on thy noſe til thy hart ake: If thou dareſt doo it, els man cry creke. I truſt before thou hurt me: With my ſtaffe chil make a Lob of thée. O the body of me huſband Hob, what meane you to fight: For the paſſion of God, no more blowes ſmite. Neighbours and fréends ſo long, and now to fall out: What? in your age to ſeeme ſo ſtout? If I had not parted ye, one had kild another: I had not cared I ſwere by Gods mother. Shake hands again at the requeſt of me: As ye haue béen fréends, ſo fréends ſtil be. Bum troth cham content, and zaiſt woord neigbor Lob: I am content agréed neighbor Hob. So, get you to market, no longer ſtay. And with yonder knaue let me make a fray. Content wife Marian, chil doo as thou dooſt ſay: But buſſe me ich pray thée at going away. Thou whorſon knaue & prickeard boy, why didſt yu let them fight? If one had kild another héer, couldſt thou their deaths requite? It beares a ſigne by this thy déed, a cowardly knaue thou art: Els wouldſt thou draw ye weapon thine, like a man them to parte What Marian may be good, are you come pratling? Ye may hap get a box on the eare, with your talking. If they had kilde one another, I had not cared a peaſe: A villain, my ſelf on thée I muſt eaſe. Giue me a box on the eare? that wil I try: Who ſhalbe Maiſter thou ſhalt ſee by and by. O no more, no more I beſeech you hartely: Euen now I yéeld, and giue you the maiſtery.