R., W. · published 1633 · first performed or written 1622 [1621-1623] (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) (?) T6 Money, debt and credit typicality 0.73 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
Delicate vision. Her have got her pag and awl by the hand, and her had ferrily thought in conscience, had not been so many round shillings in whole worlds but in Wales, 'twas time to supply her store, her had but thirteen pence half penny in all the worlds, and that her have left in her little white purse, with a rope her find py the parne, just in the place her had this: Randalls will be no serving man's now, her will buy her brave Parrells, brave Swords, brave Taggers, and prave Feathers, and go a-wooing to brave comely pretty maids, rob Randalls, begar and her were ten dozens of cousins, Randalls rob her, mark her now. A plague of Friday mornings, the unfortunate day in the whole week. Was ever the like sat, 'sfoot when I put it in I was so wary, though it were midnight, that I watched till a cloud had masked the Moon, for fear she should have seen't. Oh luck. A Gale of wind did but creep o'er the bottom, and because I heard things stir, I stayed, 'twas twelvescore past me. The pottle pots will sleep in peace tonight. And the sweet clinks. The clattering of pipes. The Spanish fumes. The more wine boy, the nimble anon, anon sir. All tonight will be nothing, come we must shift, 'sfoot what a witty rogue 'twas to leave, this fair thirteen pence halfpenny, and this old halter, intimating aptly. Had the hangman met us three, by these presages, Here had been his work, and here his wages. Come, come, we must make friends. There sirrah, there's his bond, run into the Strand, six weeks the Tallow Chandler fetched my hundred mark I lent him to set him up, and to buy grease, this is his day, I'll have his bones for't else, so pray tell him. But are a chandler's ones worth so much Father? Out coxcomb. Worth so much, I know my Master will make dice on them, then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next Christmas to the Temple, he'll make a hundred marks a night of them. Mass that's true. And run to Master Eare-lack's the informer, in Thieving lane, and ask him what he has done in my business he gets abundance, and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll, he will take her with a little, are ye gone Sir? No forsooth. As ye come by Temple-bar, make a step toth' Devil. To the Devil father? My Master means the sign of the Devil. And he cannot hurt ye fool, there's a Saint holds him by the nose. 'sniggers, what does the Devil and a Saint both in a sign? What a question's that, what does my Master, and his prayer book a Sunday both in a pew? Well, well, ye Gipsy, what do we both in a pew?
nodes 168–196 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 6 of 37 in this edition
Length
487 words · 657 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T6 — Money, debt and creditcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.730 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: T10 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Delicate vision. Her have got her pag and aule by the hand, and her had ferrily thought in conscience, had not bin so many round sillings in whole worlds but in Wales, twas time to supply her store, her had but thirteene pence halfe penny in awle the worlds, and that her have left in her little vvhite purse, with a rope her sound py the parne, just in the place her had this: Randals will bee no serving mans now, her will buy er prave Parrells, prave Swords, prave Taggers, and praue eathers, and goe a wooing to prave comely pretty mads, rb Randalls, becat and her were ten dozens of cozns, Randals rob her, marke her now. A plague of Friday mornings, the unfortunate day in the whole weeke. Was ever the like sate, 'sfoote when I put it in I was so wary, though it were midnight, that I watcht till a cloud had mask't the Moone, for feare shee should have seen't. Oh lucke. A Gale of wind did but creepe ore the bottome, and because I heard things stirre, I staied, 'twas twelvescore past mee. The pottle pots will sleepe in peace to night. And the sweete clinkes. The clattering of pipes. The Spanish fumes. The more wine boy, the nimble aon, non sir. All to night will be nothing, come wee must shift, sfoot what a vvitty rogue 'tvvas tave, this faire thirteen pence halfepenny, and this old halter, intimating atly. Had the hang-man met us three, by these presages, Here had bin his worke, and here his wages. Come, come, vve must make friends. There sirrah, there's his bond, runne into the Strand, sxe weekes the allow Chandler fetcht my hundred mark, ent him to set him up, and to buy greate, this is his day, Ile have his bones fo' se, so pray tell him. But are a Chandlers ones worth so much Father? Out Coxecombe. Worth so much, I know my Master will make dice on them, then 'tis but letting Master Alexander carry them next Christmas to the Temple, he'le make a hundred marks a night of them. Masse that's true. And runne to Master Eare-lacks the informer, in Theeving lane, and aske him what he has done in my businesse he gets aboundance, and if he carry my cause with one false oath, he shall have Moll, he vvill take her with a little, are yee gone Sir? No forsooth. As yee come by Temple-barre, make a steppe to'th Divell. To the Divell father? My Master meanes the signe of the Divell. And he cannot hurt ye foole, ther's a Saint holds him by the nose. Sniggers, what does the Divell and a Saint both in a signe? What a question's that, what does my Master, and his prayer booke a Sunday both in a pew? Well, well, ye Gipsy, what do wee both in a pew?