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 · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
I'll make my way And therefore quickly leave me, or I'll force you; And having first torn off your flaunting feathers, I'll trample on 'em; and if that cannot teach you To quit my house, I'll kick ye out of my gates; You gaudy glowworms carrying seeming fire, Yet have no heat within ye. O blessed travail! How much we owe thee for our power to suffer? Some splenative youths now that had never seen More than their Country smoke would grow in choler. It would show fine in us. Yes marry would it, That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers, But give thanks for our injuries, if we purpose To hold our places. Will you find the door? And find it suddenly, you shall lead the way, Sir, With your perfumed retinue, and recover The now lost Angellina, or build on it, I will adopt some beggars doubtful issue, Before thou shalt inherit. we'll to council, And what may be done by man's wit or valour we'll put in execution, Do, or never Hope I shall know thee. O Sir, have I found you? I never hid myself, whence flows this fury? With which as it appears, you come to fright me. I smell a plot, a mere conspiracy Among ye all to defeat me of my daughter, And if she be not suddenly delivered, Untainted in her reputation too, The best of France shall know how I am juggled with. She is my heir, and if she may be ravished Thus from my care, farewell Nobility, Honour and blood are mere neglected nothings. Nay then, my Lord, you go too far, and tax him Whose innocency understands not what fear is. If your unconstant daughter will not dwell On certainties, must you thenceforth conclude, That I am fickle? What have I omitted, To make good my integrity and truth? Nor can her lightness, nor your supposition Cast an aspersion on me. I am wounded In fact, nor can words cure it: do not trifle, But speedily, once more I do repeat it, Restore my daughter as I brought her hither, Or you shall hear from me in such a kind, As you will blush to answer. All the world I think conspires to vex me, yet I will not Torment myself, some spriteful mirth must banish The rage and melancholy which hath almost choked me, T' a knowing man 'tis physic, and 'tis thought on, One merry hour I'll have in spite of fortune, To cheer my heart, and this is that appointed, This night I'll hug my Lily in mine arms, Provocatives are sent before to cheer me; We old men need'em, and though we pay dear For our stolen pleasures, so it be done securely: The charge much like a sharp sauce gives 'em relish. Well honest Andrew, I gave you a farm, And it shall have a beacon to give warning To my other Tenants when the Foe approaches; And presently, you being bestowed elsewhere, I'll graft it with dexterity on your forehead; Indeed I will Lily, I come, poor Andrew.
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)
Ile make my way And therefore quickly leave me, or Ile force you; And having first torne off your flaunting feathers, Ile trample on 'em; and if that cannot teach you To quit my house, Ile kicke ye out of my gates; You gawdy glow-wormes carrying seeming fire, Yet have no heat within ye. O blest travaile! How much we owe thee for our power to suffer? Some spleenative youths now that had never seene More than their Country smoake would grow in choler. It would shew fine in us. Yes marry would it, That are prime Courtiers, and must know no angers, But give thankes for our injuries, if we purpose To hold our places. Will you finde the doore? And finde it suddenly, you shall lead the way, Sir, With your perfumd' retinew, and recover The now lost Angellina, or build on it, I will adopt some beggers doubtfull issue, Before thou shalt inherit. Wee'll to councell, And what may be done by mans wit or valour Wee'll put in execution, Doe, or never Hope I shall know thee. O Sir, have I found you? I never hid my selfe, whence flowes this fury? With which as it appeares, you come to fright me. I smell a plot, a meere conspiracy Among ye all to defeate me of my daughter, And if she be not suddenly delivered, Untainted in her reputation too, The best of France shall know how I am juggled with. She is my heire, and if she may be ravisht Thus from my care, farewell Nobility, Honour and bloud are meere neglected nothings. Nay then, my Lord, you goe too farre, and taxe him Whose innocency understands not what feare is. If your unconstant daughter will not dwell On certainties, must you thenceforth conclude, That I am fickle? What have I omitted, To make good my integrity and truth? Nor can her lightnesse, nor your supposition Cast an aspersion on me. I am wounded In fact, nor can words cure it: doe not trifle, But speedily, once more I doe repeat it, Restore my daughter as I brought her hither, Or you shall heare from me in such a kinde, As you will blush to answer. All the world I thinke conspires to vexe me, yet I will not Torment my selfe, some spritefull mirth must banish The rage and melancholy which hath almost choak'd me, T' a knowing man tis physicke, and tis thought on, One merry houre Ile have in spight of fortune, To cheare my heart, and this is that appointed, This night Ile hugge my Lilly in mine armes, Provocatives are sent before to cheare me; We old men need'em, and though we pay deare For our stolne pleasures, so it be done securely: The charge much like a sharpe sawce gives 'em relish. Well honest Andrew, I gave you a farme, And it shall have a beacon to give warning To my other Tenants when the Foe approaches; And presently, you being bestowed elsewhere, Ile graffe it with dexterity on your forehead; Indeed I will Lilly, I come, poore Andrew.