R., W. · published 1633 · first performed or written 1622 [1621-1623] (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) (?) T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage typicality 0.82 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
Good morrow Master Tim. Morrow Sim, my father stirring Sim? Not yet I think, he heard some ill news of your Brother Alexander last night, that will make him lie an hour extraordinary. Hum. I am sorry the old man should lie by the hour, but oh, these wicked Elder Brothers, that swear refuse them, and drink nothing but wicked Sack, when we swear nothing but niggers noggers, make a meal of a bloat Herring, water it with four shillings Beer, and then swear we have dined as well as my Lord Maior. Here was Goody Finne the fishwoman fetched home her Ring last night. Ye should have put her money by herself, for fear of wronging of the whole heap. So I did sir and washed it first in two waters. All these petty pawns sirrah, my Father commits to my managing, to instruct me in this craft, that when he dies, the commonwealth may want a good member. Nay, you are cursed as much as he already. Oh Brother, 'tis well you are up. Why, why? Now you shall see the dainty Widow, the sweet Widow, the delicate Widow, that tomorrow morning must be our Mother in Law. What the Widow Nag. Yes, yes, she that dwells in Blackfriars, next to the sign of the Fool laughing at a feather. she, she, good Brother make yourself handsome, for my father will bring her hither presently. Niggers noggers, I thought he had been sick and had not been up Sim. Why so did I too, but it seems the Widow took him at a better hand, and raised him so much the sooner. While I tie my Band, prithee stroke up my foretop a little, Niggers, and I had but dreamed of this an hour before I waked, I wood have put on my Sunday clothes, 'snailes my shoes are as pale as the cheek of a stewed Pander, a clout, a clout Sim. More haste, the worse speed, here's ne'er a clout now. What's that lies by the books? This 'tis a summoner's coat. Prithee lends a sleeve of that, had a Noble on't last night, and never paid me my Bill money. Look, look upon, and ready, all ready Widow is, he is in some deep discourse with Sim, concerning moneys out to one or another. Has he sayd his prayers sit? Prayer before providence, when did ye know any thrive, and swell that uses it, he's a chip o'th' old block, I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawns, If they come to me, I tell 'em I have given over Brokering, moiling for muck and trash, and that I mean to live a life Monastic, a praying life, pull out the tail of Croesus from my pocket, and swear 'tis called charity's looking glass, or an exhortation to forsake the World. Dainty Hypocrite. Peace.
seed 43: T40 · seed 44: T40 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
GOod morrow Master Tim. Morrow Sim, my father stirring Sim? Not yet I thinke, he heard some ill newes of your Brother Alexander last night, that will make him lye an houre extraordinarie. Hum, I am sorry the old man should lye by the hower, but oh, these wicked Elder Brothers, that sweare refuse them, and drinke nothing but wicked Sacke, when wee sweare nothing but niggers noggers, make a meale of a bloate Herring, water it with foure shillings Beere, and then sweare wee have dined as well as my Lord Maior. Here was Goody Finne the fish-woman fetcht home her Ring last night. Yee should have put her money by her selfe, for feare of wronging of the whole heape. So I did fir and washt it first in two waters. All these petty pavvnes sirrah, my Father committs to to my managing, to instruct me in this craft, that when he dyes, the common-wealth may wanta good member. Nay, you are curst as much as he already. Oh Brother, 'tis well you are up. Why, vvhy? Now you shall see the dainty Widdow, the sweete Widdow, the delicate Widdovv, that to morrow morning must bee our Mother in Lavv. What the Widdow Nagge. Yes, yes, she that dwells in Blacke-fryers, next to the signe of the Foole laughing at a feather. Shee, shee, good Brother make your selfe handsome, for my father will bring her hither presently. Niggers noggers, I thought hee had bene sicke and had not bene up Sim. Why so did I too, but it seemes the Widdow tooke him at a better hand, and rais'd him so much the sooner. While I tye my Band, prethee stroke up my fore-toppe a little, Niggers, and I had but dreamed of this an houre before I wak't, I wood have put on my Sunday cloathes, 'mailes my shoos are as pale as the checke of a stewd Pander, a clout, a clout Sim. More hast, the vvorse speed, here's ne're a clout now. Whats that lyes by the bookes? This 'tis a Sumners coate. Prithee lends a sleeve of that, had a Noble on't last night, and neuer paid me my Bill money. Looke, looke vpon, and ready, all ready Widdow is, he is in some deepe discourse with Sim, concerning moneyes out to one or another. Has he sayd his prayers sit? Praver before providence, when did yee know any thrive, and swell tha uses it, hee's a chip o'th old blocke, I exercise him in the trade of thrift, by turning him to all the petty pawnes, If they come to me, I tell 'em I haue given over Brokering, moyling for mucke and trash, and that I meane to live a life Monasticke, a praying life, pull out the tayle of Cressus from my pocket, and sweare 'tis cal'd Charities looking glasse, or an exhortation to forsake the World. Dainty Hypocrite. Peace.