Heywood, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written c.1627 (Annals) tragicomedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
Oh Sir, your pardon; Convey me to my Chamber, I am sick, Sick even to death, away thou Sycophant, Out of my sight, I have beside thyself, Too many sins about me. My sweet Mistress. The storm's coming, I must provide for harbour. What strange and sudden alteration's this, How quickly is this clear day overcast, But such and so uncertain are all things, That dwell beneath the Moon. A Woman's qualm, Frailties that are inherent to her sex, Soon sick, and soon recovered. If she misfare, I am a man more wretched in her loss, Then had I forfeited life and estate; She was so good a creature. I the like Suffered, when I my Wife brought unto her grave; So you, when you were first a widower, Come arm yourself with patience. These are casualties That are not new, but common. Burying of Wives, As stale as shifting shifts, or for some servants, To flout and gull their Masters. Best to send And see how her fit holds her. Sir, my In these few Lines commends her last to you, For she is now no more; What's therein writ, Save Heaven and you, none knows, This she desired You would take view of; and with these words expired. Dead? She hath made one then a free release, Of all the debts I owed her. My fear is beyond pardon, Dalavill Hath played the villain, but for Geraldine, He hath been each way Noble— Love him still, My peace already I have made with Heaven; Oh be not you at war with me; My Honour Is in your hands to punish, or preserve; I am now Confessed, and only Geraldine Hath wrought on me this unexpected good; The Ink I write with, I wish had been my blood, To witness me Repentance— Dalavill? Where's he? Go seek him out. I shall, I shall Sir. The Wills of Dead folk should be still obeyed; however false to me, I'll not reveal't; Where Heaven forgives, I pardon Gentlemen, I know you all commiserate my loss; I little thought this Feast should have been turned Into a Funeral; What's the news of him? He went presently to the Stable, put the Saddle upon his Horse, put his Foot into the Stirrup, clapped his Spurs into his sides, and away he's Galloped, as if he were to ride a Race for a Wager. All our ill lucks go with him, farewell he; But all my best of wishes wait on you, As my chief Friend; This meeting that was made Only to take of you a parting leave, Shall now be made a Marriage of our Love, Which none save only Death shall separate. It calls me from all Travel, and from henceforth, With my Country I am Friends. The Lands that I have left, You lend me for the short space of my life; As soon as Heaven calls me, they call you Lord; First feast, and after Mourn; we'll like some Gallants That Bury thrifty Fathers, think't no sin, To wear Blacks without, but other Thoughts within.
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)
Oh Sir, your pardon; Conuey me to my Chamber, I am sicke, Sicke euen to death, away thou Sycophant, Out of my sight, I haue besides thy selfe, Too many sinnes about mee. My sweet Mistresse. The storme's comming, I must prouide for harbour. What strange and sudden alteration's this, How quickly is this cleere day ouercast, But such and so vncertaine are all things, That dwell beneath the Moone. A Womans qualme, Frailties that are inherent to her sex, Soone sicke, and soone recouer'd. If shee misfare, I am a man more wretched in her losse, Then had I forfeited life and estate; Shee was so good a creature. I the like Suffer'd, when I my Wife brought vnto her grae; So you, when you were first a widower, Come arme your selfe with patience. These are casualties That are not new, but common. Burying of Wiues, As stale as shifting shifts, or for some seruants, To flout and gull their Masters. Best to send And see how her fit holds her. Sir, my In these few Lines commends her last to you, For she is now no more; What's therein writ, Saue Heauen and you, none knowes, This she desir'd You would take view of; and with these words expired. Dead? She hath made one then a free release, Of all the debts I owed her. My feare is beyond pardon, Dalauill Hath plaid the villaine, but for Geraldine, Hee hath bin each way Noble—Loue him still, My peace already I haue made with Heauen; Oh be not you at warre with me; My Honour Is in your hands to punish, or preserue; I am now Confest, and only Geraldine Hath wrought on mee this vnexpected good; The Inke I write with, I wish had bin my blood, To witnesse me Repentance—Dalauill? Where's hee? Goe seeke him out. I shall, I shall Sir. The Wills of Dead folke should be still obeyed; How euer false to mee, I'le not reueale't; Where Heauen forgiues, I pardon Gentlemen, I know you all commiserate my losse; I little thought this Feast should haue bin turn'd Into a Funerall; What's the newes of him? Hee went presently to the Stable, put the Sadle vpon his Horse, put his Foote into the Stirrup, clapt his Spurres into his sides, and away hee's Gallopt, as if hee were to ride a Race for a Wager. All our ill lucks goe with him, farewell hee; But all my best of wishes wait on you, As my chiefe Friend; This meeting that was made Onely to take of you a parting leaue, Shall now be made a Marriage of our Loue, Which none saue onely Death shall separate. It calles me from all Trauell, and from hencefoorth, With my Countrey I am Friends. The Lands that I haue left, You lend mee for the short space of my life; As soone as Heauen calles mee, they call you Lord; First feast, and after Mourne; Wee'le like some Gallants That Bury thrifty Fathers, think't no sinne, To weare Blacks without, but other Thoughts within.