Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 22 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin typicality 0.76 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
This is for your sake Mary: take heed cousin, A man is not so soon made. O my fortune, But it is just, I be despised and hated. Despair not, 'tis not manly: one hours' goodness Strikes off an infinite of ills. Weep truly And with compassion Cousin. How exactly This cunning young thief plays his part. Well Tom My Tom again, if this be truth. She weeps boy. O I shall die. Now heaven defend. Thou hast her. Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewell, And then what fortune shall befall me, welcome. How does it show? O rarely well. Say you so Sir. O ye grand Ass. And are ye there my juggler Away we are abused Alice. Fool be with thee. Where is she. Gone; she found you out, and finely, In your own noose she haltered ye: you must be whispering To know how things showed: not content to far well But you must roar out roast meat; till that suspicion You carried it most neatly, she believed too And wept most tenderly; had you continued, Without doubt you had brought her off. This was thy Rouging. For thou wert ever whispering: fie upon thee Now could I breeches thy head. You spoke to me first. Do not anger me, For by this hand i'll beat the buzzard blind than She shall not scape me thus: farewell for this time, Good night, 'tis almost bed time: yet no sleep Must enter these eyes, till I work a wonder. Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee For this night's sins, I will never leave walking of thee Till I have worn thee out. Your will be done Sir. You will not leave me Sam. Not I Away then: i'll be your guide now, if my man be trusty My spiteful Dame, i'll pipe ye such a huntsup Shall make ye dance a tipvaes: keep close to me. NEver persuade me, I will marry again What should I leave my state to, pins & poking sticks To Farthingals, and frownces, to fore-horses And a old leather bawdy house behind'en To thee? You have a son Sir. Where, what is he? Who is he like? Yourself. Thou liest, thou hast marred him, Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him: Did not I take him singing yesternight A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too, And had a catechizme in's pocket Damsel, One of your dear disciples, I perceive it? When did he ride abroad since he came over? What Tavern has he used to? what hangs done That shows a man, and mettle? when was my house At such a shame before, to creep to bed At ten a clock, and twelve, for want of company? No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking? Thou thinkest not of these scandals; when, and where Has he but showed his sword of late.
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)
This is for your ſake Mary: take heed coſen, A man is not ſo ſoone made. O my fortune, But it is juſt, I be deſpis'd and hated. Deſpaire not, 'tis not manly: one houres goodneſſe Strikes off an infinite of ils. Weepe truly And with compaſſion Coſin. How exactly This cunning yong theefe plaies his part. Well Tom My Tom againe, if this be truth. She weepes boy. O I ſhall die. Now heaven defend. Thou haſt her. Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewell, And then what fortune ſhall befall me, welcome. How do's it ſhow? O rarely well. Say you ſo Sir. O ye grand Aſſe. And are ye there my Iuggler Away we are abus'd Alice. Foole be with thee. Where is ſhe. Gon; ſhe found you out, and finely, In your own nooze ſhe halter'd ye: you muſt be whiſpering To know how things ſhowd: not content to fare well But you muſt roare out roſt meate; till that ſuſpition You carried it moſt neately, ſhe beleeved too And wept moſt tenderly; had you continew'd, Without doubt you had brought her off. This was thy Rouging. For thou wert ever whiſpering: fye upon thee Now could I breeks thy head. You ſpoke to me firſt. Do not anger me, For by this hand ile beate the buzard blind then She ſhall not ſcape me thus: farewell for this time, Good night, tis almoſt bed time: yet no ſleepe Muſt enter theſe eyes, till I worke a wonder. Thou ſhalt along too, for I meane to plague thee For this nights ſins, I will nev'r leave walking of thee Till I have worne thee out. Your will be done Sir. You will not leave me Sam. Not I. Away then: ile be your guid now, if my man be truſty My ſpightfull Dame, ile pipe ye ſuch a huntſup Shall make ye daunce a tipvaes: keepe cloſe to me. NEver perſwade me, I will marry againe What ſhould I leave my ſtate to, pins & poaking ſticks To Farthingals, and frownces, to fore-horſes And a old leather bawdy houſe behind'en To thee? You have a ſonne Sir. Where, what is he? Who is he like? Your ſelfe. Thou lyeſt, thou haſt mard him, Thou, and thy praier bookes: I do diſclaime him: Did not I take him ſinging yeſternight A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too, And had a catechizme in's pocket Damſell, One of your deare diſciples, I perceive it? When did he ride abroad ſince he came over? What Taverne hs he us'd to? what hings done That ſhewes a man, and mettle? when was my houſe At ſuch a ſhame before, to creep to bed At ten a clocke, and twelve, for want of company? No ſinging, nor no dauncing, nor no drinking? Thou think'ſt not of theſe ſcandals; when, and where Has he but ſhewd his ſword of late.