R., W. · published 1633 · first performed or written 1622 [1621-1623] (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) (?) unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Ye are but the worms of worth, The sons of shame and baseness, That in a Tavern dares outsit the Sun, And rather than a Whore shall part unpledged, You'll pawn your souls for a superfluous cup, Though ye cast it into the reckoning, The true soldier, who is all o'er, a History of man, Noble, and Valiant, Wisdom is the mould, In which he casts his Actions, such a discreet temperance Doth daily deck his doings, that by his modesty, He is guessed the son of merit, and by his mildness Is believed Valiant, go, and build no more These airy Castles of hatched fame, which fools Only admire and fear you for, the wiseman Derides and jeers ye puffs really of Virtue and Valour? (These fair twins That are borne, breath and die together) then You'll no more be called butterflies, but men: Think on't, and pay your reckoning. Shall we suffer this Saunder? I must go after him. Kill him, and there be no more men in Christendom. I know my Sister loves him, and he swears he loves her,— and by this hand, it shall go hard if he have her not, smock and all, brave excellent man, with what a strength of zeal we admire that goodness in another, which we cannot call our own. he's a dead man I warrant him. But where's our Corporal, Corporal, Corporal? Well, here's your Corporal, and you can be quiet. Look and he have not ensconced himself in a wooden Castle? Is he gone that called us butterflies? Yes, yes, has taken wing, and your Brother's gone after him, to fight with him. That's well, he cannot in conscience but do us the courtesy and kill him for us, come gallants, what shall we do? I'll never go home to go to bed with my guts full of four shillings beer, when I may replenish them with Sack,— Hay, now am I as lusty, methinks we two have blue beards, is there ne'er a wench to be had? Drawer bring us up impossibilities, an honest Whore, and a conscionable reckoning. Why here's all fire, wit, where he will or no. Ah whore, o tempting, handsome Sir, think of a rich Wife rather. Tempting handsome Sir, she is not married is she Gentlemen? A woodcock springed, let us but keep him in this bacchanalian mist till morning, and 'tis done. Tempting handsome Sir, I have known a woman of handsome tempting fortunes, throw herself away upon a handsome tempting Sir. Hark you sir, if she had, and could be tempted to't, have you a mind to marry: would ye marry her? Oh, and a man were so, worthy tempting Sir. Give me but a piece from you. And when will you give it me again? Pray give me but a piece from you, I'll pay this reckoning into th' bargain again, and if I have not a trick to make it your own, I'll give you ten for't— here's my witness.
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)
ee are but the wormes of worth, The sonnes of shame and basenesse, That in a Taverne dares out-sit the Sunne, And rather then a Whore shall part unpledg'd, You'le pawne your soules for a superfluous cup, Though ye cast it into the reckoning, The true souldier, who is all o're, a History of man, Noble, and Valiant, Wisedome is the mould, In which he casts his Actions, such a discreete temperance Doth dayly decke his doings, that by his modesty, He is guest the sonne of merit, and by his mildnesse Is beleeved Valiant, goe, and build no more These yrie Castles of hatcht fame, which fooles Onely admire and feare you for, the wise-man Derides and jeeres ye puffes really of Vertue and Vallor? (These faire twinnes That are borne, breath and die together) then Youle no more be cal'd butterflies, but men: Thinke on't, and pay your reckoning. Shall we suffer this Saunder? I must goe after him. Kill him, and there be no more men in Christendome. I know my Sister loves him, and hee sweares hee loves her,—and by this hand, it shall goe hard if hee have her not, smocke and all, brave excellent man, with what a strength of zeale wee admire that goodnesse in another, which we cannot call our owne. Hee's a dead man I warrant him. But where's our Corporal, Corporall, Corporall? Well, here's your Corporall, and you can be quiet. Looke and he have not inconst himselfe in a woodden Castle? Is he gone that cal'd us butter-flies? Yes, yes, has taken wing, and your Brother's gone after him, to fight with him. Thats well, he cannot in conscience but doe us the curtesie and kill him for us, come gallants, what shall wee doe? Ile never goe home to go to bed with my guts full of shillings beere, when I may replenish them with Sacke,—Hay, now am I as lusty, me thinkes wee two have blew eards, is there nere a wench to be had? Drawer bring us up impossibilities, an honest Whore, and a conscionable reckoning. Why here's all fier, wit, where he will or no. Ah whore, ô tempting, handsome Sir, thinke of a rich Wife rather. Tempting handsome Sir, shee is not married is she Gentlemen? A woodcock spring'd, let us but keepe him in this bachavalian mist till morning, and 'tis done. Tempting handsome Sir, I have knowne a woman of handsome tempting fortunes, throw her selfe away upon a handsome tempting Sir. Harke you sir, if shee had, and coo'd bee tempted too't, have you a mind to marry: woo'd ye marry her? Oh, and a man were so, worthy tempting Sir. Give me but a piece from you. And when will you give it me againe? Pray give mee but a piece from you, Ile pay this reckning intoth' argaine, and if I have not a tricke to make it your owne, Ile give you ten for't—here's my witnesse.