Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 37 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat typicality 0.89 · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
I think I would sir, But you are so impatient: does not this show sir, (I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgement, And let the case be equally considered) Far braver in your daughter? in a son now 'Tis nothing, of no mark: every man does it, But, to beget a daughter, a man maiden That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable: Nay she goes far beyond him: for when durst he, But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of? This is Sebastian truly. Thou sayest right Lance, And there's my hand once more. Not without marriage. Didst thou hear that? I think she spoke of marriage, And he shall marry her, for it seems she likes him, And their first boy shall be my heir. I marry Now ye go right to work. Fie, fie sir, Now I have promised ye this night to marry, Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a gentleman? I have no maw to marriage, yet this rascal Tempts me extremely: will ye marry presently? Get you afore, and stay me at the Chapel, Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest Little sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony Over without book, for we must have no company Nor light, for fear my father know, which must not yet And then to morrow night. Nothing to night sweet? No, not a bit, I am sent of business About my dowry, sweet, do not you spoil all now, 'Tis of mun haste. I can scarce stay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone. You'll follow? Within this hour, my sweet chick. Kiss. A rope kiss ye, Come, come, I stand o'thornee. Me thinks her mouth still Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it, Farewell. Farewell, I'll fit ye with a wife, sir. Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at, And if he be a handsome fellow Lancelot, Fiat, 'tis done, and all my state is settled. COme, to your Matins Maids: these early hours My gentle daughter, will disturb a while, Your fair eyes, nurterd in ease. No virtuous mother, 'tis for my holy health, to purchase which They shall forget the child of ease, soft slumbers, O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortured, And Love, how like a tyrant, thou reign'st in me, Commanding and forbidding at one instant: Why came I hither that desire to have Only all liberty, to make me happy? Why didst thou bring that young man home, O Valentine, That virtuous youth, why didst thou speak his goodness In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises Were made for him? O fond and ignorant, Why didst thou foster my affection Till it grew up, to know no other father, And then betray it?
seed 43: T6 · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I thinke I would ſir, But you are ſo impatient: do's not this ſhew ſir, (I do beſeech ye ſpeake, and ſpeake with judgement, And let the caſe be equally conſidered) Far braver in your daughter? in a ſon now 'Tis nothing, of no marke: every man do's it, But, to beget a daughter, a man maiden That reaches at theſe high exploits, is admirable: Nay ſhe goes far beyond him: for when durſt he, But when he was drunke, doe any thing to ſpeake of? This is Sebaſtian truely. Thou ſayeſt right Lance, And ther's my hand once more. Not without marriage. Didſt thou heare that? I thinke ſhe ſpoke of marriage, And he ſhall marry her, for it ſeems ſhe likes him, And their firſt boy ſhall be my heire. I marry Now ye goe right to worke. Fye, fye ſir, Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry, Would ye be ſo intemperate? are ye a gentleman? I have no maw to marriage, yet this raſcall Tempts me extreamely: will ye marry preſently? Get you afore, and ſtay me at the Chappell, Cloſe by the Nunnery, there you ſhall finde a night Prie Little ſir Hugh, and he can ſay the Matrimony Over without booke, for we muſt have no company Nor light, for feare my father know, which muſt not yet And then to morrow night. Nothing to night ſweet? No, not a bit, I am ſent of buſineſſe About my dowry, ſweet, doe not you ſpoile all now, 'Tis of muh haſte. I can ſcarce ſtay the marriage, Now if you love me, get you gone. You'l follow? Within this houre, my ſweet chicke. Kiſſe. A rope kiſſe ye, Come, come, I ſtand o'thornee. Me thinkes her mouth ſtill Is monſtrous rough, but they have waies to mend it, Farewell. Farewell, I'le fit ye with a wife, ſir. Come, follow cloſe, I'le ſee the end ſhe aymes at, And if he be a handſome fellow Launcelot, iat, 'tis done, and all my ſtate is ſetled. COme, to your Mattins Maids: theſe early houres My gentle daughter, will diſturb a while, Your faire eyes, nurterd in eaſe. No vertuous mother, Tis for my holy health, to purchaſe which They ſhall forget the childe of eaſe, ſoft ſlumbers, O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd, And Love, how like a tyrant, thou raign'ſt in me, Commanding and forbidding at one inſtant: Why came I hither that deſire to have Onely all liberty, to make me happy? Why didſt thou bring that yong man home, O Ʋalentine, That vertuous youth, why didſt thou ſpeake his goodneſſe In ſuch a phraſe, as if all tongues, all praiſes Were made for him? O fond and ignorant, Why didſt thou foſter my affection Till it grew up, to know no other father, And then betray it?