The Contention for Honor and Riches · chunk 9 of 11
Shirley, James · published 1633 · first performed or written 1631 [c.1625-1632; adapted 1658] (Annals) moral unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
Thou liest, there's more to provoke thee: no, I came not hither to die, and I won't be buried at any man's discretion, my father was buried i'the Country, and my grandfather, and his father before him, and if I live I'll be buried there myself: but what do we lose time? look to thy head, for I will make an even reckoning with thy shoulders presently. Ha, hold, alas, I won't fight, I ha' no heart to lift up a weapon. You were fire and tow but' e'en now. But here's water Dost not see? I shall be undone. Who is this? Why, 'tis foul-weather-in-harvest, all spoiled, I won't have thy heart now, and thou wouldst gi't me. 'tis well, something will cool you, after so much thunder, but it won't quench the fire of my anger. I do not use to put up these things, when I am drawn to't, your Foul weather is nothing to the business in hand, therefore submit thy neck to my execution, or— Kill me: I'll forgive thee, I shall have no Harvest to year. And thou hadst as many heads as Hydra— Ha, I'll not hurt a Hare, I am frighted this is my heart, you had not so wet, but we are like to have as dry a time on't, I stood upon terms before, this is Long-Vacation. Long-Vacation? I dreamed of a dry Summer, he will consume me, it will be a thousand years till Michaelmas. Prithee let's be friends, for my part I have no hope of Riches. And I but little, and this weather hold. Here she comes. Where be these friends of mine? Alas, what Mean you? I am faint with seeking you to stay your fury: For I was told your bloody resolutions. You should be a man of government, are these The ensigns of the City? will you give Without the Herald in your Arms, a Sword To the old City Dagger? you wear a Gown Emblem of peace, will you defile your gravity With Basket-hilt and bilbo? And you bold Yeoman, That like a Rick of hay, hath stood the shock Of Winter, and grew white with snow of age, Is this an instrument for you? But I am confident that you will say, 'tis love Of me hath brought you to the field, and therefore To prevent future mischief, I determine Here to declare myself: but first conjoin Your loving hands, and vow a constant friendship, Than one of you I'll choose my husband. By our seven gates that do let in Every day no little sin, By the sword which we advance, And the Cap of Maintenance: By the shrieve's post, and the hall yclept Guild, and London wall, By our Royal Change which yields Gentile ware, and by More-fields, By our thrice burned famous Steeple, That doth overlook the people, Cheapside Cross, and loud Bow-bell, And by all that wish it well: I am friends with him till he dies, And love him like my liberties: So help me Riches, what I speak: The Citizen will never break.
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)
Thou liest, there's more to provoke thee: no, I came not hither to dye, and I be buryed at any mans discretion, my father was buryed Country, and my grand-father, and his father before him, and if I live Ile bee buried there my selfe: but what doe we lose time? looke to thy head, for I will make an even reckoning with thy shoulders presently. Ha, hold, alas, I wo'not fight, I ha no heart to lift up a weapon. You were fie and tow but 'een now. But here's water Dost not see? I shall be undone. Who is this? Why, tis Foule-Weather-in-Harvest, all spoil'd, I wo'not have thy heart now, and thou wouldst gee'tme. Tis well, something will coole you, after so much thunder, but it wo'not quench the fire of my anger. I doe not use to put up these things, when I am drawne too't, your Foule weather is nothing to the businesse in hand, therefore submit thy necke to my execution, or— Kill me: Ile forgive thee, I shall have no Harvest to yeere. And thou hadst as many heads as Hydra—Ha, Ile not hurt a Hare, I am frighted this is my heart, you had not so wet, but we are like to have as dry a time on't, I stood upon tees before, this is Long-Vacation. Long-Vacation? I dream'd of a dry Summer, he will consume me, it will be a thousand yeeres till Michaelmasse. Prethee let's be friends, for my part I have no hope of Riches. And I but little, and this weather hold. Here she comes. Where be these friends of mine? Alas, what Meane you? I am faint with seeking you to stay your fury: For I was told your bloody resolutions. You should be a man of government, are these The ensignes of the City? will you give Without the Herald in your Armes, a Sword To the old City Dagger? you weare a Gowne Embleme of peace, will you defile your gravity With Basket-hilt and Bilboe? And you bold Yeoman, That like a Rieke of hay, hath stood the shocke Of Winter, and grew white with snow of age, Is this an instrument for you? But I am confident that you will say, tis love Of me hath brought you to the field, and therefore To prevent future mischiefe, I determine Here to declare my selfe: but first conjoyne Your loving hands, and vow a constant friendship, Then one of you Ile choose my husband. By our seven gates that doe let in Every day no little sin, By the sword which we aduance, And the Cap of Maintenance: By the Shrieves post, and the hall Yeleped Guild, and London wall, By our Royall Change which yeelds Gentile ware, and by More-fields, By our thrice burnt famous Steeple, That doth over-looke the people, Cheapeside Crosse, and loud Bow-bell, And by all that wish it well: I am friends with him till he dies, And love him like my liberties: So helpe me Riches, what I speake: The Citizen will never breake.