Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1614 [Oct 31] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men T41 Household service: masters, doors and po typicality 0.83 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Not, Minister of darkness, no, thou canst not rule my tongue, my tongue it is mine own, and with it I will both knock, and mock down your Bartholmew-abhominations, till you be made a hissing to the neighbour Parishes, round about. Let him alone, we have devised better upon't. And shall he not into the stocks than? Not, Mistress, we'll have 'em both to justice Overdoo, and let him do over 'em as is fitting. Than I, and my gossip Haggis, and my beadle Poacher are discharged. O, I thank you, blessed, honest men! Nay, never thank us, but thank this madman that comes here, he put it in our heads. Is he mad? Now heaven increase his madness, and bless it, and thank it, Sir, your poor handmaid thanks you. Have you a warrant? an you have a warrant, show it. Yes, I have a warrant out of the word, to give thanks for removing any scorn intended to the brethrens. It is justice Overdoo's warrant, that I look for, if you have not that, keep your word, I'll keep mine. Quit ye, and multiply ye. COme away Nightingale, I pray thee. Wither go you? where's your warrant? Warrant, for what, Sir? For what you go about, you know how fit it is, an you have no warrant, bless you, I'll pray for you, that's all I can do. What means he? A madman that haunts the Fair, do you not know him? it's marvel he has not more followers, after his ragged heels. Beshrew him, he startled me: I thought he had known of our plot. Guilt's a terrible thing! ha you prepared the Costard-monger? Yes, and agreed for his basket of pears; he is at the corner here, ready. And your Prize, he comes down, sailing, that way, all alone; without his Protector: he is rid of him, it seems. I, I know; I should ha' followed his Protectorship for a feat I am to do upon him: But this offered itself, so i'the way, I could not let it scape: here he comes, whistle, be this sport called Dorring the Dotterel. Wh, wh, wh, wh, etc. By this light, I cannot find my gingerbread-wife, nor my Hobby-horse-man in all the Fair, now; to ha' my money again. And I do not know the way out on't, to go home for more, do you hear, friend, you that whistle; what tune is that, you whistle? A new tune, I am practising, Sir. Dost thou know where I devil, I pray thee? nay, on with thy tune, I ha' no such haste, for an answer: I'll practise with thee. Buy any pears, very fine pears, pears fine. God's so! a musse, a musse, a musse, a musse. Good Gentleman, my ware, my ware, I am a poor man. Good Sir, my ware. Let me hold your sword, Sir, it troubles you. Do, and my cloak, an'thou wilt; and my hat, too.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T21 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
No, Miniſter of darkeneſſe, no, thou canſt not rule my tongue, my tongue it is mine own, and with it I will both knocke, and mocke downe your Bartholmew-abhominations, till you be made a hiſſing to the neighbour Pariſhes, round about. Let him alone, we haue deuis'd better vpon't. And ſhall he not into the ſtocks then? No, Miſtreſſe, wee'll haue 'hem both to Iuſtice Ouerdoo, and let him doe ouer 'hem as is fitting. Then I, and my goſſip Haggis, and my beadle Pocher are diſcharg'd. O, I thanke you, bleſſed, honeſt men! Nay, neuer thank vs, but thank this mad-man that comes heere, hee put it in our heads. Is hee mad? Now heauen increaſe his madneſſe, and bleſſe it, and thanke it, Sir, your poore hand-maide thanks you. Haue you a warrant? an' you haue a warrant, ſhew it. Yes, I haue a warrant out of the word, to giue thankes for remouing any ſcorne intended to the brethren. It is Iuſtice Ouerdoo's warrant, that I looke for, if you haue not that, keepe your word, I'le keepe mine. Quit yee, and multiply yee. COme away Nightingale, I pray thee. Whither goe you? where's your warrant? Warrant, for what, Sir? For what you goe about, you know how fit it is, an' you haue no warrant, bleſſe you, I'le pray for you, that's all I can doe. What meanes hee? A mad-man that haunts the Fayre, doe you not know him? it's maruell hee has not more followers, after his ragged heeles. Beſhrew him, he ſtartled me: I thought he had knowne of our plot. Guilt's a terrible thing! ha' you prepar'd the Coſtardmonger? Yes, and agreed for his basket of peares; hee is at the corner here, ready. And your Priſe, he comes downe, ſailing, that way, all alone; without his Protector: hee is rid of him, it ſeemes. I, I know; I ſhould ha' follow'd his Protector-ſhip for a feat I am to doe vpon him: But this offer'd it ſelfe, ſo i'the way, I could not let it ſcape: heere he comes, whiſtle, be this ſport call'd Dorring the Dottrell. Wh, wh, wh, wh, &c. By this light, I cannot finde my ginger-bread-Wife, nor my Hobby-horſe-man in all the Fayre, now; to ha' my money againe. And I do not know the way out on't, to go home for more, doe you heare, friend, you that whiſtle; what tune is that, you whiſtle? A new tune, I am practiſing, Sir. Doſt thou know where I dwell, I pray thee? nay, on with thy tune, I ha' no ſuch haſt, for an anſwer: I'le practiſe with thee. Buy any peares, very fine peares, peares fine. Gods ſo! a muſſe, a muſſe, a muſſe, a muſſe. Good Gentleman, my ware, my ware, I am a poore man. Good Sir, my ware. Let me hold your ſword, Sir, it troubles you. Doe, and my cloake, an'thou wilt; and my hat, too.