Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1637 · first performed or written 1625(?) (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
So I mean 'em Sir, you play harsher play w' your elder brother. I would be loath to give you. Do not venture, I'll make your wedding-clothes sit closer t' ee then; I but disturb you, I'll go see my nephew. Pray take a piece of rosemary. I'll wear it, But for the Lady's sake, and none of yours, May be I'll see your table too. Pray do, Sir. A mad old Gentleman. Yes faith, sweet daughter, He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge, He has made Charles his heir, I know that certainly, Then why should he grudge Eustace any thing? I would not have a light head, nor one laden With too much learning, as they say, this Charles is, That makes his book his Mistress: Sure, there's something Hid in this old man's anger, that declares him Not a mere Sot. Come shall we go and seal, brother? All things are ready and the Priest is here, When Charles has set his hand unto the Writings. As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding, And so to dinner. Come, let's seal the book first, For my daughter's Jointure. Let's be private in't, Sir. Nay, y'are undone. hum. Ha'ye no greater feeling? You were sensible of the great book, Sir, When it fell on your head, and now the house Is ready to fall, Do you fear nothing? Will He have my books too? No, he has a book, A fair one too to read on, and read wonders, I would thou hadst her in thy study Nephew, And 'twere but to new string her. Yes, I saw her, And methought 'twas a curious piece of learning, Handsomely bound, and of a dainty letter. He flung away his book. I like that in him, Would he had flung away his dulness too, And spoke to her. And must my brother have all? All that your father has. And that fair woman too? That woman also. He has enough then. May I not see her sometimes, and call her Sister? I will do him no wrong. This makes me mad, I could now cry for anger; these old fools Are the most stubborn and the wilfullest Coxcombs. Farewell, and fall to your book, forget your brother, You are my heir, and I'll provide y'a wife: I'll look upon this marriage though I hate it. Where is my son? There Sir, casting a figure What chopping children his brother shall have. He does well; How dost Charles? still at thy book? he's studying now Sir, who shall be his father. Peace you rude Knave— Come hither Charles, be merry, I thank you I am busy at my book, Sir, You must put your hand my Charles, as I would have you, Unto a little piece of parchment here, Only your name, you write a reasonable hand. But I may do unreasonably to write it, What is it Sir?
seed 43: T39 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
So I meane 'em Sir, you play harsher play w' your elder brother. I would be loth to give you. Doe not venter, Ile make your wedding-cloathes sit closer t' ee then; I but disturbe you, Ile goe see my nephew. Pray take a peece of rosemary. Ile weare it, But for the Ladies sake, and none of yours, May be Ile see your table too. Pray doe, Sir. A mad old Gentleman. Yes faith, sweet daughter, He has been thus his whole age to my knowledge, He has made Charles his heire, I know that certainly, Then why should he grudge Eustace any thing? I would not have a light head, nor one laden With too much learning, as they say, this Charles is, That makes his booke his Mistresse: Sure, there's something Hid in this old mans anger, that declares him Not a meere Sot. Come shall we goe and seale, brother? All things are ready and the Priest is here, When Charles has set his hand unto the Writings. As he shall instantly, then to the Wedding, And so to dinner. Come, let's seale the booke first, For my daughters Joynture. Let's be private in't, Sir. Nay, y'are undone. hum. Ha'ye no greater feeling? You were sensible of the great booke, Sir, When it fell on your head, and now the house Is ready to fall, Doe you feare nothing? Will He have my bookes too? No, he has a booke, A faire one too to reade on, and reade wonders, I would thou hadst her in thy studie Nephew, And 'twere but to new string her. Yes, I saw her, And me thought 'twas a curious peece of learning, Handsomely bound, and of a dainty letter. He flung away his booke. I like that in him, Would he had flung away his dulnesse too, And spake to her. And must my brother have all? All that your father has. And that faire woman too? That woman also. He has enough then. May I not see her sometimes, and call her Sister? I will doe him no wrong. This makes me mad, I could now cry for anger; these old fooles Are the most stubborne and the wilfullest Coxcombs. Farewell, and fall to your booke, forget your brother, You are my heire, and Ile provide y'a wife: Ile looke upon this marriage though I hate it. Where is my sonne? There Sir, casting a figure What chopping children his brother shall have. He do's well; How do'st Charles? still at thy booke? Hee's studying now Sir, who shall be his father. Peace you rude Knave—Come hither Charles, be merry, I thanke you I am busie at my booke, Sir, You must put your hand my Charles, as I would have you, Unto a little peece of parchment here, Onely your name, you write a reasonable hand. But I may doe unreasonably to write it, What is it Sir?