Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 14 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
'Twas that I only feared: good friend go from me, I find my heart too full for further conference: You are assured of this? 'Twill prove too certain, But bear it nobly sir, youth hath his errors. I shall do, and I thank ye: pray ye no words on't, I do not use to talk sir. Ye are welcome: Is there no constancy in earthly things: No happiness in us, but what must alter, No life without the heavy load of fortune? What miseries we are, and to ourselves, Even then when full content seems to sit by us, What daily sores, and sorrows? O dear brother, The Gentleman if ever you will see him Alive as I think. O he faints, for heaven sake, For heaven sake sir. Go comfort him dear sister. And one word sweet, with you: then we'll go to him. What think you of this Gentleman? My pity thinks sir, 'Tis great misfortune, that he should thus perish. It is indeed: but Cellide, he must dye. That were a cruelty, when care may cure him, Why do you weep so sir, he may recover? He may, but with much danger: my sweet Cellide You have a powerful tongue. To do you service. I will betray his grief: he loves a gentlewoman, A friend of yours, whose heart another holds, He knows it too: yet such a sway blind fancy, And his not daring to deliver it, Have won upon him, that they must undo him: Never so hopeful and so sweet a spirit, Misfortune fell so foul on. Sure she's hard hearted, That can look on, and not relent, and deeply At such a misery: she is not married? Not yet. Nor near it? When she please. And pray sir, Does he deserve her truly, that she loves so? His love may merit much: his person little, For there the match lies mangled. Is he your friend? He should be, for he is near me. Will not he dye then? When th'other shall recover? Ye have posed me. Me thinks he should go near it, if he love her; If she love him She does, and would do equal: 'Tis A hard task you put me: yet for your sake I will speak to her: all the art I have: My best endeavours: all his youth, and person, His mind more full of beautis: all his hopes, The memory of such a sad example, Ill spoken of, and never old: the curses Of loving maids, and what may be alleged I'll lay before her: what's her name? I am ready But will you deal effectually? Most truly: Nay were it myself, at your entreaty. And could ye be so pitiful? So dutiful; Because you urge it sir, It may be then It is yourself It is in deed, I know it. And now know how ye love me.
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)
'Twas that I onely fear'd: good friend go from me, I finde my heart too full for further conference: You are aſſur'd of this? 'Twill prove too certaine, But beare it nobly ſir, youth hath his errors. I ſhall do, and I thank ye: pray ye no words on't, I doe not uſe to talke ſir. Ye are welcome: Is there no conſtancy in earthly things: No happineſſe in us, but what muſt alter, No life without the heavy load of fortune? What miſeries we are, and to our ſelves, Even then when full content ſeemes to ſit by us, What daily ſores, and ſorrowes? O deere brother, The Gentleman if evr you will ſee him Alive as I think. O he faints, for heaven ſake, For heaven ſake ſir. Goe comfort him deere ſiſter. And one word ſweet, with you: then we'l go to him. What think you of this Gentleman? My pity thinks ſir, 'Tis great misfortune, that he ſhould thus periſh. It is indeed: but Cellide, he muſt dye. That were a cruelty, when care may cure him, Why doe you weep ſo ſir, he may recover? He may, but with much danger: my ſweet Cellide You have a powerfull tongue. To doe you ſervice. J will betray his griefe: he loves a gentlewoman, A friend of yours, whoſe heart another holds, He knowes it too: yet ſuch a ſway blinde fancy, And his not daring to deliver it, Have won upon him, that they muſt undoe him: Never ſo hopefull and ſo ſweet a ſpirit, Misfortune fell ſo foule on. Sure ſhe's hard hearted, That can looke on, and not relent, and deeply At ſuch a miſery: ſhe is not married? Not yet. Nor neere it? When ſhe pleaſe. And pray ſir, Do's he deſerve her truely, that ſhe loves ſo? His love may merit much: his perſon little, For there the match lyes mangled. Is he your friend? He ſhould be, for he is neere me. Will not he dye then? When th'other ſhall recover? Ye have pos'd me. Me thinks he ſhould goe neere it, if he love her; If ſhe love him She do's, and would doe equall: 'Tis A hard taske you put me: yet for your ſake I will ſpeake to her: all the art I have: My beſt endevors: all his youth, and perſon, His mind more full of beautis: all his hopes, The memory of ſuch a ſad example, Ill ſpoken of, and never old: the curſes Of loving maids, and what may be alleag'd Ile lay before her: what's her name? I am ready But will you deale effectually? Moſt truly: Nay were it my ſelfe, at your entreaty. And could ye be ſo pittifull? So dutifull; Becauſe you urge it ſir, It may be then It is your ſelfe It is in deed, I know it. And now know how ye love me.