Passages from this character's speech that contain the most distinguishing words for Cluster 16 (nat, ningle, chould, numps, terry, dery…). Matches are highlighted.
every street cry out; Would ye any corns In your head or toes? that head spoiled all. Prithee, what's he? he comes to borrow money On his wives wedding-ring, or his child's whistle: You may see by his nose he has no laud, he looks As a Hawk; what do you dream on? What Ladies timpany is your next cure? Or whose stale body must be
Full speech
Uncle, how does your body? you appear As lean as Lent, I've a great mind to dance About a Maypole, shall we? This Doctor has for ick led me, I cannot choose but laugh, would, would. Uncle, if you'll procure a dispensation To marry me your self, deduct the charge Out of my portion, I could love and old Rarely, And old man with a bed full of &c. Sings. Uncle, when did you put on a clean shirt? D'yee hear, I dreamed o'th' Devil last night, They say it's good luck; do you know him, Uncle He's a fine old Gentleman, And something Like you, no such Bugbear as The world imagines, you and he'll keep house Together one day; but you'll burn Sea- To save charges, and stink the poor souls so. Uncle, you are not merry, I pray laugh A little: imagine y'had undone a widow, Or turned and Orphan begging; would, would, &c. Faith how many Churches do you mean to built Before you die? six bells in every steeple, And let'em all go to the City tune, Turn again Whittington ; who, they say, Grew rich, and let his land out for nine lives, Because all came in by a Cat: but let me counsel you To die at all adventures, great men doe't in policy. Stay, you shall give towards the building of a Church Nothing, see the money first laid out, That's given already; it were sin and pity To abuse the dead: but it's no matter, Uncle, You'll be as famous for pulling down the parish, The Church will fallen of it self, With ding dung bell. Sings. Why did they put the poor fellow in prison? Why the Corn-cutter: Poor Gentleman, he meant no hurt to the City, His feet were very weary, and that made him In every street cry out; Would ye any corns In your head or toes? that head spoiled all. Prithee, what's he? he comes to borrow money On his wives wedding-ring, or his child's whistle: You may see by his nose he has no laud, he looks As a Hawk; what do you dream on? What Ladies timpany is your next cure? Or whose stale body must be rectified Next with a glister? Why how now, Uncle, is your Scrivener broke, You talk such lamentation? Nay, and you be at that ward, I must leave you, Fare well, pray do not lift my Uncle too hard; And so I leave you both to the mercy of the Bear-garden. Within. Pray Uncle let me in. Sir, you have, in this, Deserved our lives and Fortune's. How Uncle? a reveller? you'll led meam Counterfeit anto.