Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 26 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Sure he will return sir, He cannot be so harsh. O never, never, Never return, thou knowst not where the cause lies. He was the worthiest welcome. He deserved it. Nor wanted, to our knowledge. I will tell thee, Within this hour, things that shall startle thee. He never must return. Good morrow Signieur. Good morrow master Michael. My good neighbour, Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel, You have learned the rule of health sir, where's your mistress? She keeps her warm I warrant ye, a bed yet? I think she does. 'tis not her hour of waking. Did you lie with her Lady? Not to night sir. Nor any night this week else. When last saw ye her? Late yester night. Was she a-bed then? No sir, I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me? I have been strangely haunted with a dream All this long night, and after many wake, The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide just at S. Katherine's gate the Nunnery. Ha'? Her face slubbered o'er with tears, and troubles, Me thought she cried unto the Lady Abbess, For charity receive me holy woman, A Maid that has forgot the world's affections, Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her, Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her, And there I left her. Dream? Good Mistress Alice Do me the favour (yet to satisfy me) To step but up, and see. I know she's there sir, And all this but a dream? You know not my dreams, They are unhappy ones, and often truths, But this I hope, yet I will satisfy ye, Neighbours, how does the gentleman? I know not, Dream of a Nunnery? How found ye my words About the nature of his sickness Valentine? Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too That forced her to this Nunnery? did she not curse me? For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too, How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool, Tired with his joys? Alas poor gentleman. Ye promised me sir to bear all these crosses. I bear 'em till I break again. But nobly, Truly to weigh, Good neighbours, no more of it, Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she? Not yonder sir, nor has not this night certain Been in her bed. It must be truth she tells ye, And now I'll show ye why I came: this morning A man of mine being employed about business, Came early home, who at S. Katherine's Nunnery, About day peep told me he met your Mistress, And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled And so received by the Abbess, did he see her? The wonder made me rise, and haste unto ye To know the cause. Farewell, I cannot speak it. For heaven take leave him not. I will not Lady. Alas, he's much afflicted,
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)
Sure he will returne ſir, He cannot be ſo harſh. O never, never, Never returne, thou know'ſt not where the cauſe lyes. He was the worthieſt welcome. He deſerv'd it. Nor wanted, to our knowledge. I will tell thee, Within this houre, things that ſhall ſtartle thee. He never muſt returne. Good morrow Signieur. Good morrow maſter Michael. My good neighbour, Me thinks you are ſtirring early ſince your travell, You have learn'd the rule of health ſir, where's your miſtres? She keeps her warme I warrant ye, a bed yet? I thinke ſhe do's. T'is not her houre of waking. Did you lye with her Lady? Not to night ſir. Nor any night this weeke elſe. When laſt ſaw ye her? Late yeſter night. Was ſhe abed then? No ſir, I left her at her prayers: why doe ye aske me? I have been ſtrangely haunted with a dreame All this long night, and after many wakings, The ſame dreame ſtill; me thought I met yong Cellide Iuſt at S. Katherines gate the Nunnery. Ha? Her face ſlubber'd o're with teares, and troubles, Me thought ſhe cry'd unto the Lady Abbeſſe, For charity receive me holy woman, A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections, Into thy virgin order: me thought ſhe tooke her, Put on a Stole, and ſacred robe upon her, And there I left her. Dreame? Good Miſtreſſe Alice Doe me the favour (yet to ſatisfie me) To ſtep but up, and ſee. I know ſhe's there ſir, And all this but a dreame? You know not my dreames, They are unhappy ones, and often truths, But this I hope, yet I will ſatisfie ye, Neighbours, how do's the gentleman? I know not, Dreame of a Nunnery? How found ye my words About the nature of his ſickneſſe Valentine? Did ſhe not cry out, 'twas my folly too That forc'd her to this Nunnery? did ſhe not curſe me? For God ſake ſpeake: did you not dreame of me too, How baſely, poorely, tamely, like a foole, Tir'd wih his joyes? Alas poore gentleman. Ye promis'd me ſir to beare all theſe croſſes. I beare 'em till I breake againe. But nobly, Truely to weigh, Good neighbours, no more of it, Ye doe but fling flaxe on my fire: where is ſhe? Not yonder ſir, nor has not this night certaine Bin in her bed. It muſt be truth ſhe tels ye, And now I'le ſhew ye why I came: this morning A man of mine being employed about buſineſſe, Came early home, who at S. Katherines Nunnery, About day peep told me he met your Miſtreſſe, And as I ſpoke it in a dreame, ſo troubled And ſo received by the bbeſſe, did he ſee her? The wonder made me riſe, and haſte unto ye To know the cauſe. Farewell, I cannot ſpeake it. For heaven take leave him not. I will not Lady. Alas, he's much afflicted,