Fletcher, John / Massinger, Philip · published 1637 · first performed or written 1625(?) (Annals) comedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
Out of my doors. Most willingly. He shall Jew, Thou of the Tribe of Man-y-asses, Coxcomb, And never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold, fool. Must I be gone too? I will never know thee. Then this man will, what fortune he shall run, father, Be't good or bad, I must partake it with him. When shall the Masque begin? 'tis done already, All, all, is broken off, I am undone friend, My brother's wife again, and has spoiled all, Will not release the land, has won the Wench too. Could he not stay till th' Masque was passed? w' are ready. What a scurvy trick's this? O you may vanish, Perform it at some Hall, where the Citizens wives May see't for six pence a piece, and a cold supper. Come let's go Charles, And now my noble Daughter, I'll sell the tiles of my house ere thou shalt want Wench. Rate up your dinner Sir, and sell it cheap, Some younger brother will take 't up in commodities. Send you joy, Nephew Eustace, if ye study the Law, Keep your great pippin-pies, they'll go far with ye. I'd have your blessing. No, no, meet me no more, Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else. I will not. Nor send not you for Gowns. I'll wear course flannel first. Come let's go take some counsel. 'tis too late. Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vex 'em. ne'er talk to me, you are no men but Masquers, Shapes, shadows, and the signs of men, Court bubbles, That every breath or breaks or blows away, You have no souls, no metal in your bloods, No heat to stir ye when ye have occasion, Frozen dull things that must be turned with levers, Are you the Courtiers and the travailed Gallants? The sprightly fellows, that the people talk of? Ye have no more spirit than three sleepy sops. What would ye have me do, Sir? Follow your brother, And get ye out of doors, and seek your fortune, Stand still becalmed, and let an aged Dotard, A hare-brained puppy, and a bookish boy, That never knew a blade above a penknife, And how to cut his meat in Characters Cross my design, and take thy own Wench from thee, In mine own house too? Thou despised poor fellow! The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir, Then to my Uncle, with whom 't had been but sauciness T' have been so rough— And we not seeing him Strive in his own cause, that was principal, And should have led us on; thought it ill manners To begin a quarrel here. You dare do nothing. Do you make your care the excuse of your cowardliness? Three boys on hobby-horses with three penny halberds, Would beat you all. You must not say so. Yes, And sing it too. You are a man of peace, Therefore we must give way.
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)
Out of my doores. Most willingly. He shall Jew, Thou of the Tribe of Man-y-asses, Coxcombe, And never trouble thee more till thy chops be cold, foole. Must I be gone too? I will never know thee. Then this man will, what fortune he shall runne, father, Bee't good or bad, I must partake it with him. When shall the Masque beginne? Tis done already, All, all, is broken off, I am undone friend, My brother's wife againe, and has spoil'd all, Will not release the land, has wonne the Wench too. Could he not stay till th' Masque was past? w' are ready. What a skirvie trick's this? O you may vanish, Performe it at some Hall, where the Citizens wives May see't for sixe pence a peece, and a cold supper. Come let's goe Charles, And now my noble Daughter, Ile sell the tiles of my house ere thou shalt want Wench. Rate up your dinner Sir, and sell it cheape, Some younger brother will take 't up in commodities. Send you joy, Nephew Eustace, if ye study the Law, Keepe your great pippin-pies, they'l goe farre with yee. Ide have your blessing. No, no, meet me no more, Farewell, thou wilt blast mine eyes else. I will not. Nor send not you for Gownes. Ile weare course flannell first. Come let's goe take some counsell. Tis too late. Then stay and dine, It may be we shall vexe 'em. NEre talke to me, you are no men but Masquers, Shapes, shadowes, and the signes of men, Court bubbles, That every breath or breakes or blowes away, You have no soules, no metall in your bloods, No heat to stirre ye when ye have occasion, Frozen dull things that must bee turn'd with leavers, Are you the Courtiers and the travail'd Gallants? The spritely fellowes, that the people talke of? Ye have no more spirit than three sleepy sops. What would ye have me doe, Sir? Follow your brother, And get ye out of doores, and seeke your fortune, Stand still becalm'd, and let an aged Dotard, A haire-brain'd puppy, and a bookish boy, That never knew a blade above a penknife, And how to cut his meat in Characters Crosse my designe, and take thy owne Wench from thee, In mine owne house too? Thou despis'd poore fellow! The reverence that I ever bare to you Sir, Then to my Uncle, with whom 't had been but sawcinesse T' have been so rough— And we not seeing him Strive in his owne cause, that was principall, And should have led us on; thought it ill manners To beginne a quarrell here. You dare doe nothing. Doe you make your care the excuse of your cowardlinesse? Three boyes on hobby-horses with three penny halberts, Would beate you all. You must not say so. Yes, And sing it too. You are a man of peace, Therefore we must give way.