Mayne, Jasper · published 1639 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638(?)] (Annals) comedy · King's Men · before the Court T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.80 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
The Scene is laid already; I have transformed an English Poet into A fine French Teacher, who shall join your hands With a most learned legend out of Rabelais. But for my true groom who you say comes hither For a disguised Knight, I shall think I wed His Father's Countinghouse, and go to bed To so much Bullion of a man. Faith I've No mind to him, brother, he hath not wit enough To make't a lawful marriage. Y'are deceived, I'll undertake by one weeks Tutoring, And carrying him to Plays and Ordinaries, Engaging him in a quarrel or two, and making Some Captain beat him, to render him a most Accomplished Gallant. Or say he be borne, sister, Under the City planet, pray what wise Lady Desires to match a wise Knight? you'd marry some Philosopher now, that should every night Lie with you out of Aristotle, and lose Your maidenhead by Demonstration. Or some great statesman, before whom you must sit As silent and reserved as if your looks Had plots on foreign Princes, and must visit And dress yourself by Tacitus. What he wants In Naturals, his fortunes will make up In Honours, Pen; when he's once made a Lord, who'll be so saucy as to think he can Be impotent in wisdom? She that marries A fool, is an Hermaphrodite, the Man And wife too, sister. Besides 'tis now too late, He'll be here presently, and comes prepared For Hymen. I took up a footman for him, And left him under three tiremen's hands, besides Two Barbers. Well, Sir, I must then accept him With all his imperfections, I have Procured a Sir Iohn yonder. Who is't? One That preaches the next parish once a week asleep for thirty pounds a year. Here is A Knight desires your Ladyship will give Him audience. 'tis no Knight Ambassador? He rather looks like a Knight o'th' Sun. 'tis He. Let him come in. If you be coy now, Pen, You spoil all. Well, Sir, I'll be affable. HEre he comes. Sirrah, wait me in the Hall, And let your feet stink there; your air's not fit, To be endured by Ladies. What quarrel with Your Footman, Sir? Hang him, he casts a scent That drowns my perfumes, and is strong enough To cure the Mother or Palsy. Do I act A Knight well? This imperiousness becomes you Like a Knight newly dubbed, Sir. What says the Lady? Speak lower, J've prepared her, show yourself A Courtier now she's yours. If that be all I'll Court her as if some Courtier had begot me Ith' Gallery at a Masque. Madam, this Gentleman Desires to kiss your hands. And lips too Lady. Sir, you much honour both. ay, I know that, Else I'd not kiss you. Yesterday I was In company with Ladies and they all Longed to be touched by me. You cannot cure The Evil, Sir, nor have your lips the virtue To restore ruins, or make old Ladies young?
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Scene is laid already; I have transformd an English Poet into A fine French Teacher, who shall joyne your hands With a most learned legend out of Rablais. But for my true groom who you say comes hither For a disguised Knight, I shall think I wed His Fathers Counting-house, and goe to bed To so much Bullion of a man▪ Faith I've No minde to him, brother, he hath not wit enough To make't a lawfull marriage. Y' are deceivd, I'le undertake by one weekes Tutoring, And carrying him to Plaies and Ordinaries, Engaging him in a quarrell or two, and making Some Captaine beat him, to render him a most Accomplisht Gallant. Or say he be borne, sister, Under the City planet, pray what wise Lady Desires to match a wise Knight? you'd marry some Philosopher now, that should every night Lye with you out of Aristotle, and loose Your maiden-head by Demonstration. Or some great statesman, before whom you must sit As silent and reservd as if your looks Had plots on forreine Princes, and must visit And dresse your selfe by Tacitus. What he wants In Naturals, his fortunes will make up In Honours, Pen; when hee's once made a Lord, Who'l be so sawey as to think he can Be impotent in wisdome? She that marries A foole, is an Hermaphrodite, the Man And wife too, sister. Besides tis now too late, He'l be here presently, and comes prepar'd For Hymen. I took up a footman for him, And left him under three tyremens hands, besides Two Barbers. Well, Sir, I must then accept him With all his imperfections, J have Procur'd a Sir Iohn yonder. Who ist? One That preaches the next parish once a week A sleep for thirty pounds a yeare. Here is A Knight desires your Ladiship will give Him audience. Tis no Knight Embassadour? He rather lookes like a Knight oth' Sun. Tis He. Let him come in. If you be coy now, Pen, You spoile all. Well, Sir, I'le be affable. HEre he comes. Sirrah, wait me in the Hall, And let your feet stink there; your ayre's not fit, To be endured by Ladies. What quarrell with Your Footman, Sir? Hang him, he casts a sent That drownes my perfumes, and is strong enough To cure the Mother or Palsie. Doe I act A Knight well? This imperiousnesse becomes you Like a Knight newly dubd, Sir. What saies the Lady? Speak lower, J've prepar'd her, show your selfe A Courtier now she's yours. If that be all I'le Court her as if some Courtier had begot me Ith' Gallery at a Masque. Madam, this Gentleman Desires to kisse your hands. And lips too Lady. Sir, you much honour both. I, I know that, Else Ide not kisse you. Yesterday J was In company with Ladies and they all Long'd to be toucht by me. You cannot cure The Evill, Sir, nor have your lips the vertue To restore ruines, or make old Ladies young?