Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 21 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Pray ye thank 'em, And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence: Ye see my company. Come hither Crab, What gentlewomen are these? my Mistress? Yes sir. And who else? Mistress Alice. Oh. Hark ye sirrah. No word of my being here, unless she know it. I do not think she does. Take that, and mum, then You have tied my tongue up. Sat you down good Francis, And not a word of me till ye hear from me, And as you find my humour, follow it: You two come hither, and stand close, unseen boys, And do as I shall tutor ye. What, new work? Prithee no more, but help me now, I would fain Talk with the gentlewomen. Talk with the gentlewomen? Of what forsooth? whose maidenhead the last mask Suffered impression, or whose clyster wrought best: Take me as I shall tell thee. To what end? What other end came we along? Be ruled though. Your wee sell face must needs be ferreting About the farthing-ale, Do as I bid ye, Or by this light. Come then, Stand close and mark me, All this forced foolery will never do it. I hope we bring ye health sir: how is't with ye? You look far better trust me, the fresh colour Creeps now again into his cheeks. Your enemy I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye Lusty again, and frolic man; leave thinking Indeed it does ye harm sir. My best visitants, I shall be governed by ye. You shall be well then, And suddenly, and sound well. This air sir laying now seasoned ye: will keep ye ever. No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends, My life has been so lewd, my lose condition, Which I repent too late, so lamentable, That any thing but curses light upon me, Exorbitant in all my ways. Who's that sir, Another sick man. Sure, I know that voice well. In all my courses, cureless disobedience. What a strange fellow's this? No counsel friends, No look before I leapt. Do ye know the voice sir? Yes, 'tis a gentleman's thats much afflicted In's mind: great pity Ladies. Now heaven help him. He came to me, to ask free pardon of me, For some things done long since, which his distemper Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so. O that this could be truth. Persuade yourself. To what end gentlemen, when all is perished Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining? The sea, that never knew sorrow, may be pitiful, My credit's spilt, and sunk, nor is it possible, Were my life lengthened out as long as. I like this well. Your mind is too mistrustful. I have a virtuous sister, but I scorned her, A Mistress too, a noble gentlewoman, For goodness all out-going. Now I know him. With these eyes friends, my eyes must never see more.
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)
Pray ye thanke 'em, And tell 'em my moſt ſickneſſe is their abſence: Ye ſee my company. Come hither Crab, What gentlewomen are theſe? my Miſtreſſe? Yes ſir. And who elſe? Miſtreſſe Alice. Oh. Harke ye ſirha. No word of my being here, unleſſe ſhe know it. I doe not thinke ſhe do's. Take that, and mum, then You have ty'd my tongue up. Sit you downe good Francis, And not a word of me till ye heare from me, And as you finde my humour, follow it: You two come hither, and ſtand cloſe, unſeen boyes, And doe as I ſhall tutor ye. What, new worke? Prethee no more, but helpe me now, I would faine Talke with the gentlewomen. Talke with the gentlewomen? Of what forſooth? whoſe maiden-head the laſt maske Suffer'd impreſſion, or whoſe clyſter wrought beſt: Take me as I ſhall tell thee. To what end? What other end came we along? Be rul'd though. Your wee zell face muſt needs be ferretting About the farthing-ale, Doe as I bid ye, Or by this light. Come then, Stand cloſe and marke me, All this forc'd foolery will never doe it. I hope we bring ye health ſir: how is't with ye? You look far better truſt me, the freſh colour Creeps now againe into his cheeks. Your enemy I ſee has done his worſt. Come, we muſt have ye Luſty againe, and frolicke man; leave thinking Indeed it do's ye harme ſir. My beſt viſitants, I ſhall be govern'd by ye. You ſhall be well then, And ſuddenly, and ſoundly well. This ayre ſir laying now ſeaſon'd ye: will keep ye ever. No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends, My life has bin ſo lewd, my looſe condition, Which I repent too late, ſo lamentable, That any thing but curſes light upon me, Exorbitant in all my waies. Who's that ſir, Another ſicke man. Sure, I know that voyce well. In all my courſes, cureleſſe diſobedience. What a ſtrange fellow's this? No counſell friends, No looke before I leapt. Doe yo' know the voyce ſir? Yes, 'tis a gentlemans that's much afflicted In's minde: great pitty Ladies. Now heaven help him. He came to me, to aske free pardon of me, For ſome things done long ſince, which his diſtemper Made to appeare like wrong, but 'twas not ſo. O that this could be truth. Perſwade your ſelfe. To what end gentlemen, when all is periſh'd Vpon a wrack, is there a hope remaining? The ſea, that nev'r knew ſorrow, may be pittifull, My credit's ſpilt, and ſunke, nor is it poſſible, Were my life lengthened out as long as. I like this well. Your minde is too miſtruſtfull. I have a vertuous ſiſter, but I ſcorn'd her, A Miſtreſſe too, a noble gentlewoman, For goodneſſe all out-going. Now I know him. With theſe eyes friends, my eyes muſt nev'r ſee more.