Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1637 · first performed or written 1625(?) (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
I like this best of all, he has taken fire, His dull mist flies away. Will you write brother? No, brother no, I have no time for poor things, I'm taking th' height of that bright Constellation. I say, you trifle time, son. I will not seal, Sir, I am your eldest, and I'll keep my birthright, For heaven forbid I should become example; Had y' only showed me Land, I had delivered it, And been a proud man to have parted with it; 'tis dirt, and labour; Do I speak right Uncle? Bravely my boy, and bless thy tongue. I'll forward, But you have opened to me such a treasure, I find my mind free, heaven direct my fortune. Can he speak now? Is this a son to sacrifice? Such an inimitable piece of beauty, That I have studied long, and now found only, That I'll part sooner with my soul of reason, And be a plant, a beast, a fish, a fly; And only make the number of things up Than yield one foot of Land, if she be tied to't. He speaks unhappily. And methinks bravely, This the mere Scholar? You but vex yourself brother, And vex your study too. Go you and study, For 'tis time young Eustace, you want both man and manners, I've studied both, although I made no show on't, Go turn the Volumes over I have read, Eat and digest them, that they may grow in thee, Wear out the tedious night with thy dim Lamps And sooner lose the day than leave a doubt, Distil the sweetness from the poet's Spring, And learn to love, Thou know'st not what fair is, Traverse the stories of the great Heroes, The wise and civil lives of good men walk through; Thou hast seen nothing but the face of Countries, And brought home nothing but their empty words: Why shouldst thou wear a Jewel of this worth? That hast no worth within thee to preserve her. Beauty clear and fair, where the air Rather like a perfume dwells, Where the violet and the rose Their blue veins in blush disclose, And come to honour nothing else. Where to live near, and planted there, Is to live, and still live new, Where to gain a favour is More than light, perpetual bliss, Make me live by serving you. dear again back recall, to this light, A stranger to himself and all; Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory. I am your servant, and your thrall. Speak such another Ode, and take all yet. What say ye to the Scholar now? I wonder; Is he your brother, Sir? Yes, would he were buried, I fear he'll make an ass of me a younger. Speak not so softly Sir, 'tis very likely. Come leave your finical talk, and let's dispatch, Charles. Dispatch? What? Why the land.
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)
I like this best of all, he has taken fire, His dull mist flies away. Will you write brother? No, brother no, I have no time for poore things, I'm taking th' height of that bright Constellation. I say, you trifle time, sonne. I will not seale, Sir, I am your eldest, and Ile keepe my birthright, For heaven forbid I should become example; Had y' onely shew'd me Land, I had deliver'd it, And been a proud man to have parted with it; Tis dirt, and labour; Doe I speake right Uncle? Bravely my boy, and blesse thy tongue. Ile forward, But you have open'd to me such a treasure, I finde my minde free, heaven direct my fortune. Can he speake now? Is this a sonne to sacrifice? Such an inimitable peece of beauty, That I have studied long, and now found onely, That Ile part sooner with my soule of reason, And be a plant, a beast, a fish, a flie; And onely make the number of things up Than yeeld one foot of Land, if she be ty'd to't. He speakes unhappily. And me thinkes bravely, This the meere Scholar? You but vexe your selfe brother, And vexe your studie too. Goe you and studie, For 'ts time young Eustace, you want both man and manners, I've studied both, although I made no shew on't, Goe turne the Volumes over I have read, Eate and digest them, that they may grow in thee, Weare out the tedious night with thy dimme Lampes And sooner loose the day than leave a doubt, Distill the sweetnesse from the Poets Spring, And learne to love, Thou know'st not what faire is, Traverse the stories of the great Heroes, The wise and civil lives of good men walke through; Thou hast seene nothing but the face of Countries, And brought home nothing but their empty words: Why should'st thou weare a Jewell of this worth? That hast no worth within thee to preserve her. Beauty cleere and faire, where the aire Rather like a perfume dwelles, Where the violet and the rose Their blew veines in blush disclose, And come to honour nothing else. Where to live neere, and planted there, Is to live, and still live new, Where to gaine a favour is More than light, perpetuall blisse, Make me live by serving you. Deare againe backe recall, to this light, A stranger to himselfe and all; Both the wonder and the story Shall be yours, and eke the glory. I am your servant, and your thrall. Speake such another Ode, and take all yet. What say ye to the Scholar now? I wonder; Is he your brother, Sir? Yes, would he were buried, I feare hee'l make an affe of me a younger. Speake not so softly Sir, tis very likely. Come leave your finicall talke, and let's dispatch, Charles. Dispatch? What? Why the land.