Monsieur Thomas (Father's Own Son) · chunk 39 of 42
Fletcher, John · published 1639 · first performed or written 1615 [1610-c.1616] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Blackfriars T15 Friars and holy orders in plot typicality 0.74 · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T15: friar, lord, holy, friars, robin, peggy, lacie, angelo, love, nun.
Give me my holy water pot. Here Madam. Spirit of earth or air, I do conjure thee, Of water or of fire. Hark Madam, hark. Be thou ghost that cannot rest: or a shadow of the blessed, Be thou black, or white, or green, be thou heard, or to be seen It comes, it comes. What are ye? speak, speak gently, And next, what would ye with me? Any thing you'll let me. You are no woman certain. Nor you no Nun, nor shall not be. What make ye here? I am a holy Friar. Is this the Spirit? Nothing but spirit Aunt. Now out upon thee. Peace, or I'll conjure too Aunt. Why come you thus? That's all one, her's my purpose: Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye, I'll tell thee (Aunt) and I speak it with tears to thee, If thou keptst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser, Mark but the mischief follows. She is a Votress. Let her be what she will, she will undo thee, Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye, Or have among your Nuns again. You have no project But fair and honest? As thine eyes, sweet Abbess, I will be ruled then. Thus then and persuade her But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt. I must be there myself. Away and fit her. Come daughter, you must now be ruled, or never. I must obey your will. That's my good daughter. WHat a coil has this Fellow kept i'th' Nunnery Sure he has run the Abbess out of her wits. Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her Nor the young Cellide. Pray heavens he be not teasing. Nay you may thank yourself, 'twas your own structures. Why there's the gentlewoman, Mass 'tis she indeed How smart the pretty thief looks?' morrow Mistress. Good morrow to you sir. How strange she bears it? Maid's must do so, at first. Would ye ought with us, gentlemen? Yes marry would I A little with your Ladyship. Your will sir. Doll, I would have ye presently prepare yourself And those things you would have with you, For my house is ready. How sir? And this night not to fail, you must come to me, My Friends will all be there too: For Trunks, & those things And household stuff, and clothes you would have carried To morrow, or the next day, i'll take order: Only, What money you have, bring away with ye, And jewels: jewels sir? I, for adornment There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy, And now come kiss me hearty. Who are you? This Lady shallbe welcome too. To what sir? Your neighbour can resolve ye. The man's foolish Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow, And where's his business?
seed 43: T19 · seed 44: T20 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Give me my holy water pot. Here Madam. Spirit of earth or ayre, I do conjure thee, Of water or of fire. Harke Madam, hark. Be thou ghoſt that cannot reſt: or a ſhadow of the bleſt, Be thou black, or white, or green, be thou heard, or to be ſeen It comes, it comes. What are ye? ſpeake, ſpeake gently, And next, what would ye with me? Any thing you'l let me. You are no woman certaine. Nor you no Nun, nor ſhall not be. What make ye here? I am a holy Fryer. Is this the Spirit? Nothing but ſpirit Aunt. Now out upon thee. Peace, or I'le conjure too Aunt. Why come you thus? That's all one, her's my purpoſe: Out with this Nun, ſhe is too handſome for ye, I'le tell thee (Aunt) and I ſpeake it with teares to thee, If thou keptſt her here, as yet I hope thou art wiſer, Mark but the miſchiefe followes. She is a Votreſſe. Let her be what ſhe will, ſhe will undoe thee, Let her but one houre out, as I direct ye, Or have among your Nuns againe. You have no project But faire and honeſt? As thine eyes, ſweet Abbeſſe, I will be ruld then. Thus then and perſwade her But do not iuggle with me, if ye do Aunt. I muſt be there my ſelfe. Away and fit her. Come daughter, you muſt now be rull'd, or never. I muſt obey your will. That's my good daughter. VVHat a coyle has this Fellow kept i'th' Nunnery Sure he has run the Abbeſſe out of her wits. Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither ſee her Nor the yong Cellide. Pray heavens he be not teaſing. Nay you may thanke your ſelfe, 'twas your owne ſtructures. Why there's the gentlewoman, Mas tis ſhe indeed How ſmart the pretty theefe lookes? 'morrow Miſtreſſe. Good morrow to you ſir. How ſtrange ſhe beares it? Maids muſt do ſo, at firſt. Would ye ought with us, gentlemen? Yes marry would I A little with your Ladiſhip. Your will ſir. Doll, I would have ye preſently prepare your ſelfe And thoſe things you would have with you, For my houſe is ready. How ſir? And this night not to faile, you muſt come to me, My Friends will all be there too: For Trunks, & thoſe things And houſhold ſtuffe, and clothes you would have carried To morrow, or the next day, ile take order: Onely, What money you have, bring away with ye, And Iewels: Iewels ſir? I, for adornement There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy, And now come kiſſe me heartily. Who are you? This Lady ſhalbe welcome too. To what ſir? Your neighbour can reſolve ye. The man's fooliſh Sir, you looke ſoberly: who is this fellow, And where's his buſineſſe?