Wager, William · published 1570 · first performed or written 1560 [c.1559-c.1570] (Annals) moral unassigned nearest T37 Riches, poverty and covetousness · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T37: wealth, riches, money, god, rich, poverty, men, learning, poor, ic.
Body of me, this would make a man to swear: A shame take them marry, that ever they came there. Nay by gisse I thought he would not be heavenly long: For that to his nature were clean contrary and wrong. Yonder are such a sort of Ruterkins lively and jolly: That all that can be gotten is little enough for their belly. Soul we work, we labour, and that night and day: Yet can we scant have meat and drink the truth to say. And that which we have, is ill enough for Dogs: And we are served with all, like a many of Hogs. What servant? I pray thee what news with thee? By my truth Father Tenant even as you see. Kept like no man's servant, but rather like a slave: That I am weary of my life I tell you so God me save. My master taketh on like the Devil of hell: There was never one so hasty, cruel and fel. But so covetous Lord, Lord you will not believe: I think all his mind and study to bribery he doth give. Now a pestilence take him, vile cankered Churl: He is neither good to man, women, boy nor girl. Is this the heavenly man? a shame take him else: Body of me, in all wickedness he now excels. And if a thing come in his head be it good or ill: Without all wit or reason, do it he wil. But so covetous, Lord I think if he might choose: The dropping of his noll he would not lose. Every week truly, nay then every day: He must have account how many Eggs his hens lay Why? there was never seen such a miser as he: That the plague cut the throat of him for me. I have wrought for him this half year by the week: And now my work is done my money is to seek. If I and all mine should starve for money: Of him I dare say I should not get one penny. A shame take him, how well the Scripture of him is weighed: Which saith sleep not till the Hireling thou hast paid. I see well that I complain not of him alone: But others as well as I, have good cause to moon. Well Servant, weeping will not help this gear: But God will plague him for it, I do not fear. I told you Hireling how you should be served: What Servant, thou lookest as though thou were starved. He looketh as lustily, freshly and as well: As all the Servants that with his master do dwell. His master? why? he is no better than a thief: For so that he may have it, he cares not who suffer grief. Nay by the mass that words is but to true: So that his riches increaseth he careth not who rue.
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)
Body of me, this would make a man to ſwere: A ſhame take them mary, that euer they came there. Nay by giſſe I thought he would not be heauenly long: For that to his nature were clene contrary and wrong. Yonder are ſuch a ſorte of Ruterkins liuely and ioly: That all that can be gotten is little inough for their belly. Soule we woork, we labour, and that night and day: Yet can we ſcant haue meat and drink the trueth to ſay. And that which we haue, is il inough for Dogges: And we are ſerued with all, like a many of Hogges. What ſeruant? I pray thée what newes with thée? By my trueth Father Tenant euen as you ſée. Kept like no mans ſeruant, but rather like a ſlaue: That I am wery of my life I tel you ſo God me ſaue. My maiſter taketh on like the Deuil of hel: There was neuer one ſo haſty, cruel and fel. But ſo couetouſe Lord, Lord you wil not beleeue: I think all his minde and ſtudy to bribery he dooth giue. Now a peſtlence take him, vile cankard Churle: He is neither good to man, women, boy nor girl. Is this the heauenly man? a ſhame take him els: Body of me, in all wickednes he now excelles. And if a thing come in his hed be it good or il: Without all wit or reaſon, doo it he wil. But ſo couetouſe, Lord I think if he might chuſe: The dropping of his nole he would not looſe. Euery week truely, nay then euery day: He muſt haue accoūt how many Egges his hens lay Why? there was neuer ſeen ſuch a miſer as he: That the plague cut the throte of him for me. I haue wrought for him this half yéer by the wéek: And now my work is doon my money is to ſeek. If I and all mine ſhould ſtarue for money: Of him I dare ſay I ſhould not get one peny. A ſhame take him, how wel the Scripture of him is waid: Which ſaith ſleep not til the Hireling thou haſt paid. I ſée wel that I complain not of him alone: But others as wel as I, haue good cauſe to mone. Wel Seruant, weeping wil not help this geer: But God wil plague him for it, I doo not fear. I tolde you Hireling how you ſhould be ſerued: What Seruant, thou lookeſt as though thou were ſtarued. He looketh as luſtely, freſhly and as wel: As all the Seruants that with his maiſter doo dwel. His maiſter? why? he is no better then a théef: For ſo that he may haue it, he cares not who ſuffer gréef. Nay by the maſſe that woords is but to true: So that his riches encreaſeth he careth not who rue.