Massinger, Philip · published 1633 · first performed or written 1625 (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
Nay be not angry. There's eight pieces To put you in better fashion. Money from thee? From a boy? a stipendiary? one that lives At the devotion of a stepmother, And the uncertain favour of a Lord? I'll eat my arms first. howsoe'er blind fortune Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me; Though I am vomited our of an Alehouse, And thus accoutred; know not where to eat, Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this Canopy; Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer. And as I in my madness broke my state, Without th'assistance of another's brain, In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst Die thus, and be forgotten. A strange humour. Set all things right, or as my name is Order, And by this staff of office that commands you; This chain, and double ruff, Symbols of power; whoever misses in high function, For one whole week makes forfeiture of his breakfast, And privilege in the wine-cellar. You are merry Good Master Steward. Let him; I'll be angry. Why fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve o'clock yet, Nor dinner taking up, then 'tis allowed Cooks by their places may be choleric. You think you have spoke wisely goodman Amble, My lady's go-before. Nay, nay; no wrangling. Twit me with the Authority of the kitchen? At all hours, and all places I'll be angry; And thus provoked, when I am at my prayers, I will be angry. There was no hurt meant. I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry. With whom? No matter whom: yet now I think on't I am angry with my Lady. Heaven forbid, man. What cause has she given thee? Cause enough Master Steward. I was entertained by her to please her palate, And till she forswore eating I performed it. Now since our master, noble Alworth died, Though I crack my brains to find out tempting sauces. And raise fortifications in the pastry, Such as might serve for models in the Low-Countries, Which if they had been practised at Breda, Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, & ne'er took it. But you had wanted matter there to work on. Matter? with fix eggs, and a strike of rye-meal I had kept the Town, till doomsday, perhaps longer. But what's this to your pet against my Lady? What's this? Marry this, when I am three parts roasted, And the fourth part parboiled, to prepare her viands, She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada, Or water-gruel; my sweat never thought on. But your art is seen in the dining-room. By whom? By such as pretend love to her, but come, To feed upon her. Yet of all the Harpies, That do devour her, I am out of charity With none so much, as the thin-gutted Squire That's stolen into commission.
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)
Nay bee not angry. There's eight peeces To put you in better fashion. Money from thee? From a boy? a stipendary? one that liues At the deuotion of a stepmother, And the vncertaine fauour of a Lord? Ile eate my armes first. Howsoe're blind fortune Hath spent the vtmost of her malice on mee; Though I am vomited our of an Alehouse, And thus accoutred; know not where to eate, Or drinke, or sleepe, but vnderneath this Canopie; Although I thanke thee, I despise thy offer. And as I in my madnesse broke my state, Without th'assistance of anothers braine, In my right wits Ile peece it; at the worst Dye thus, and bee forgotten. A strange humor. Set all things right, or as my name is Order, And by this staffe of office that commands you; This chaine, and dubble ruffe, Symboles of power; Who euer misses in hi function, For one whole weeke makes forfeiture of his breakefast, And priuilege in the wine-seller. You are merrie Good Master Steward. Let him; Ile bee angry. Why fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelue a clocke yet, Nor dinner taking vp, then 'tis allow'd Cookes by their places may bee cholericke. You thinke you haue spoke wisely goodman Amble, My Ladie's goe-before. Nay, nay; no wrangling. 'Twit me with the Authority of the kitchin? At all houres, and all places Ile be angrie; And thus prouok'd, when I am at my prayers, I will bee angry. There was no hurt meant. I am friends with thee, and yet I will be angry. With whom? No matter whom: yet now I thinke on't I am angrie with my Lady. Heauen forbid, man. What cause has she giuen thee? Cause enough Master Steward. I was entertain'd by her to please her palat, And till she forswore eating I perform'd it. Now since our master, noble Alworth died, Though I cracke my braines to find out tempting sawces. And raise fortifications in the pastrie, Such as might serue for modells in the Low-Countries, Which if they had beene practis'd at Breda, Spinola might haue throwne his cap at it, & ne're tooke it. But you had wanted matter there to worke on. Matter? with fix egges, and a strike of rie-meale I had kep't the Towne, till doomesday, perhaps longer. But what's this to your pet against my Lady? What's this? Marrie this, when I am three parts rosted, And the fourth part parboyld, to prepare her viands, Shee keepes her chamber, dines with a panada, Or water-gruell; my sweat neuer thought on. But your art is seene in the dining-roome. By whom? By such as pretend loue to her, but come, To feed vpon her. Yet of all the Harpies, That doe deuoure her, I am out of charity With none so much, as the thinne-gutted Squire That's stolne into commission.