Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1626 [Feb] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Sir, may I Present one more and carry it, if his parts Or Gifts, (which you will, call'hem) Be sufficient Sir. What are your present Clerks habilities? How is he qualified? A decayed Stationer He was, but knows News well, can sort and rank 'hem. And for a need can make 'hem. True Paul's bred, I'the Churchyard. And this at the West-door, O'th' other side, he's my Barber Thom, A pretty Scholar, and a Master of Arts, Was made, or went out Master of Arts in a throng, At the University; as before, one Christmas, He got into a Masque at Court, by his wit, And the good means of his Cithern, holding up thus For one o'the Music, he's a nimble Fellow▪ And alike skilled in every liberal Science, As having certain snaps of all, a neat, Quick-vain, in forging News too. I do love him, And promised him a good turn, and I would do it. What's your price? the value? Fifty pounds, Sr. Get in Thom, take possession, I install thee; Here, tell your money; give thee joy, good Thom; And let me hear from thee every minute of News, While the New Staple stands, or the Office lasts, Which I do wish, may ne'er be less for thy sake. The Emissaries, Sir, would speak with you, And Master Fitton, they have brought in News, Three Bale together. Sr, you are welcome, here. So is your creature. Business calls us of, Sir, That may concern the Office. Keep me fair, Sir, Still i'your Staple, I am here your friend, On the same floor. We shall be your servants. How dost thou like it, Founder? All is well, But that your man o' law me thinks appears not In his due time. O! Here comes Master's worship. HOw does the Heir, bright Master Peniboy? Is he awake yet in his One and Twenty? Why, this is better far, than to wear Cypress, Dull smutting gloves, or melancholy blacks, And have a pair of twelvepenny broad ribbons Laid out like Labels. I should ha' made shift To have laughed as hearty in my mourner's hood, As in this Suit, if it had pleased my father To have been buried, with the Trumpeters. The Heralds of Arms, you mean. I mean, All noise, that is superfluous! All that idle pomp, And vanity of a Tombstone, your wise father Did, by his will, prevent. Your worship had— A loving and obedient father of him, I know it: a right, kind-natured man, To die so opportunely. And to settle All things so well, compounded for your ward ship The week afore, and left your state entire Without any charge upon't. I must needs say, I lost an Officer of him, a good Bailiff, And I shall want him; but all peace be with him, I will not wish him alive, again; not I, For all my Fortune; give your worship joy O'your new place, your Emissary-ship, I'the News Office.
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)
Sir, may I Preſent one more and carry it, if his parts Or Gifts, (which you will, call'hem) Be ſufficient Sir. What are your preſent Clarkes habilities? How is he qualified? A decay'd Stationer He was, but knowes Newes well, can ſort and ranke 'hem. And for a need can make 'hem. True Paules bred, I'the Church-yard. And this at the Weſt-dore, O'th other ſide, hee's my Barber Thom, A pretty Scholler, and a Maſter of Arts, Was made, or went out Maſter of Arts in a throng, At the Vniuerſitie; as before, one Chriſtmas, He got into a Maſque at Court, by his wit, And the good meanes of his Cythern, holding vp thus For one o'the Muſique, Hee's a nimble Fellow▪ And alike skil'd in euery liberall Science, As hauing certaine ſnaps of all, a neat, Quick-vaine, in forging Newes too. I doe loue him, And promis'd him a good turne, and I would doe it. Whats your price? the value? Fifty pounds, Sr. Get in Thom, take poſſeſſion, I inſtall thee; Here, tell your money; giue thee ioy, good Thom; And let me heare from thee euery minute of Newes, While the New Staple ſtands, or the Office laſts, Which I doe wiſh, may ne're be leſſe for thy ſake. The Emiſſaries, Sir, would ſpeake with you, And Maſter Fitton, they haue brought in Newes, Three Bale together. Sr, you are welcome, here. So is your creature. Buſineſſe calls vs off, Sir, That may concerne the Office. Keepe me faire, Sir, Still i'your Staple, I am here your friend, On the ſame flooer. We ſhall be your ſeruants. How doſt thou like it, Founder? All is well, But that your man o' law me thinks appeares not In his due time. O! Here comes Maſters worſhip. HOw do's the Heyre, bright Maſter Peniboy? Is hee awake yet in his One and Twenty? Why, this is better farre, then to weare Cypreſſe, Dull ſmutting gloues, or melancholy blacks, And haue a payre of twelue-peny broad ribbands Laid out like Labells. I ſhould ha' made ſhift To haue laught as heartily in my mourners hood, As in this Suite, if it had pleas'd my father To haue beene buried, with the Trumpeters. The Heralds of Armes, you meane. I meane, All noyſe, that is ſuperfluous! All that idle pompe, And vanity of a Tombe-ſtone, your wiſe father Did, by his will, preuent. Your worſhip had— A louing and obedient father of him, I know it: a right, kinde-natur'd man, To dye ſo opportunely. And to ſettle All things ſo well, compounded for your ward ſhip The weeke afore, and left your ſtate entyre Without any charge vpon't. I muſt needes ſay, I loſt an Officer of him, a good Bayliffe, And I ſhall want him; but all peace be with him, I will not wiſh him aliue, againe; not I, For all my Fortune; giue your worſhip ioy O'your new place, your Emiſſary-ſhip, I'the Newes Office.