Mayne, Jasper · published 1639 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638(?)] (Annals) comedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
Sir, you are not merry. methinks you do not look as you were married. You rather look as you had lost your Love. Or, else as if your Spouse Sir, had rebuked you How is it, Sir? you feel have brought along My Fiddlers with me; my Wife and Mrs. Holland Are good wind Instruments. 'tis enough for me To put on sadness. You, Sir, have no cause. Not I? ask Mrs. Scruple. I have lost My Daughter, Sir she's stolen. Then, Sir, I have A spendthrift to my son. These are felicities Compared to me. You have not matched a Whore, Sir, Nor lost two ships at sea. Nor you, I hope. Truth is you are my friends. I am abused, Grossly fetched over. I have matched a Stews; The notedst woman o'th' Town. Indeed I heard She was a Chambermaid. And they by their place, Do wait upon the Lady, but belong Unto the Lord. But is this true? Here was My Nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell me She has three Children living; one dapple grey, Half Moore, half English. Knows as many men As she that sinned by th' Calendar, and divided The nights o'th' year with several men. Bless me goodness! Then like a mad condemned to all misfortunes, I have estated her in all I have. How? Under hand & seal, Sir, irrecoverably. LOok Mrs. Scruple here's your husband. be The leave of the fair Company. My Husband? His cold keeps him at home. surely I take This to be some Dutch Elder. Were is The Breed an bridegroom? Oh, Monsieur, I'm com't To give you joy, and bless your Capòn; were Is your fair Breed? O Monsieur, you have joined me To a chaste Virgin. Would when I came to you Y' had used your Ceremonies about my Funeral. funeral? Is your Breed dead? Would she were. I'd double your Fee, Monsieur, to bury her. Ee can but little English. No, I see You are but new come over. Dover? Tere Ee landed. I, Sir, pray walk in; that door Will land you in my dining room. Ee thank you. This is the Priest that married us. This is A Frenchman is't not? 'twas at the French Church. SEt'em down gently, so. They make me sweat. Pictures quoth you? slight they have weight enough To be the Parties. My Lady, Sir, has sent A Present to your wife. What Lady pray? Madam Aurelia, Sir. Oh— Sir, they are A brace of Pictures with which my Lady prays She will adorn her Chamber. Male Pictures pray, Or Female? Why d'you ask? Because methinks It should be Mars and Venus in a Net, Aretine's postures, or a naked Nymph, Lying asleep, and some lascivious satire Taking her lineaments. These are pictures which Delight my wife. These are Night-pieces, Sir, Lord how I long to see'em? I have at home The finest ravished Lucrece!
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)
Sir, you are not merry. Me thinks you doe not look as you were married. You rather look as you had lost your Love. Or, else as if your Spouse Sir, had rebukt you How is it, Sir? you feel have brought along My Fidlers with me; my Wife and Ms Holland Are good winde Instruments. Tis enough for me To put on sadnesse. You, Sir, have no cause. Not I? aske Ms Scruple. I have lost My Daughter, Sir she's stolne. Then, Sir, I have A spend thrift to my sonne. These are felicities Compard to me. You have not matcht a Whore, Sir, Nor lost two ships at sea. Nor you, J hope. Truth is you are my friends. I am abus'd, Grossely fetcht over. I have matcht a Stewes; The notedst woman oth' Towne. Indeed J heard She was a Chamber-maid. And they by their place, Doe wait upon the Lady, but belong Unto the Lord. But is this true? Here was My Nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell me She has three Children living; one dapple grey, Halfe Moore, halfe English. Knowes as many men As she that sinnd by th' Calendar, and divided The nights oth' yeare with severall men. Blesse me goodnesse! Then like a mad condemnd to all misfortunes, J have estated her in all I have. How? Under hand & seale, Sir, irrecoverably. LOok Ms Scruple here's your husband. Bee The leave ofe the faire Companee. My Husband? His cold keeps him at home. surely J take This to be some Dutch Elder. Were is The Breed an Breed-groome? Oh, Monsieur, J'me com't To give you zhoy, and blesse your Capòn; were Is your faire Breed? O Monsieur, you have joynd me To a chast Virgin. Would when J came to you Y' had used your Ceremonies about my Funerall. Foonerall? Is your Breed dead? Would she were. I'de double your Fee, Monsieur, to burie her. Ee can but leetle English. No, J see You are but new come over. Dover? Tere Eelanded. J, Sir, pray walk in; that doore Will land you in my dining roome. Ee tank you. This is the Priest that married us. This is A French-man ist not? Twas at the French Church. SEt'em down gently, so. They make me sweat▪ Pictures quoth you? slight they have weight enough To be the Parties. My Lady, Sir, has sent A Present to your wife. What Ladie pray? Madam Aurelia, Sir. Oh— Sir, they are A brace of Pictures with which my Ladie praies She will adorne her Chamber. Male Pictures pray, Or Female? Why d'you aske? Because me thinks It should be Mars and Venus in a Net, Aretines postures, or a naked Nymph, Lying asleep, and some lascivious Satyr Taking her lineaments. These are pictures which Delight my wife. These are Night-peeces, Sir, Lord how I long to see'em? I have at home The finest ravisht Lucrece!