Nabbes, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1640 (Annals) not in BritDrama · Beeston's Boys · Phoenix/Cockpit T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig typicality 0.82 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
We expect a friend; till he comes this may serve. What you please sir. A towel sirrah quickly. Thou seem'st sweet heart as if th' hadst fears within thee. We may securely now discourse our loves, And weary time with words, till we are fit To act our wishes. The fullness of my joys Happening so sudden ere I was prepared To taste them with an appetite, hath bred A surfeit in me. Now you smell of flattery I would not have you court what you possess with any attribute above its merit. If my being yours you count your happiness, Let us be sudden to confirm ourselves Mutually happy, ere our parents rage Can reach us to prevent it. That word parents. Makes me reflect on my ingratitude: Being greater far than infamous records Did ever punish; and like pleasant dreams My joys are changed to nothing. Sudden dumbs: Whence are they? to myself I am not guilty Of a behaviour that should merit this. I prithee let me blush, and kiss away The clouds hang on thy brow. No discontent Should interpose where equal love hath mixed Equal desires; and for the noble end No base dependence. For could I but think Thy soul did harbour any bastard thought Which goodness might not father, I would back To my disgrace; and confidently meet My parent's anger; all th' affronts of rumor; And what the rabble pleased rather than stay To nurse it to a growth. Then pray return; But not to your disgrace; all shall be thrown Upon my guilt. And though my love (unstained With the least blemish of impure affection) Gave th' act allowance, I'll belie myself, And say I did enforce you; which the law May punish with my life. I'll give it up, To end th' affliction of my soul, divided 'Twixt love to you, and duty to that man I have so wronged. Can love admit such scruples? Or is't thy coldness? I was too too credulous. But the necessity denied more trial. Here's a pretence indeed. Can there be greater? Ingratitude's a monster. Shall I then Repay that man with injury, that gave My almost starved life warmth, and made me breathe Though to be miserable Thou dost surely Want the best part of man, and art not capable. Of resolution. Such a coward spirit Lodgeth not here. I now suspect thy worth, And blame my rashness. Why should I be taxed With such defect? Know then I dare deserve you By any enterprise that may be credible. Invention cannot fancy an employment I would not manage to confirm my love Worthy your best opinion, only this My conscience frights me from. Why then farewell. Passion will guide me somewhere, goodness guard me From a despair; and whatsoever end I am disposed for, I'll remember thee Deniest thyself good in denying me. What's your wine sir? Presently. Stay. Your pleasure sir. I mean not you.
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)
We expect a frieind; 'till he comes this may serve. What you please sir. A towell firrah quickly. Thou seem'st sweet hart as if th' hadst feares within thee. We may securely now discourse our loves, And weary time with words, 'till we are fit To act our wishes. The fulnesse of my joyes Happ'ning so suddain ere I was prepar'd To taste them with an appetite, hath bred A surfet in me. Now you smell of flattery I would not have you court what you possesse with any attribute above its merit. If my being yours you count your happinesse, Let us be suddain to confirme our selves Mutually happy, e're our parents rage Can reach us to prevent it. That word parents. Makes me reflecton my ingratitude: Being greater far then infamous recordes Did ever punish; and like pleasant dreames My joyes are chang'd to nothing. Suddaine dumbs: Whence are they? to my selfe I am not guilty Of a behaviour that should merrit this. I prethee let me blush, and kisse away The clowdes hang on thy brow. No discontent Should interpose where equall love hath mixt Equall desires; and for the noble end No base dependance. For could I but think Thy soule did harbor any bastard thought Which goodnesse might not father, I would back To my disgrace; and confidently meet My parents anger; all th' affronts of rumor; And what the rabble pleas'd rather then stay To nurse it to a growth. Then pray' return; But not to your disgrace; all shall be thrown Upon my guilt. And though my love (unstain'd With the least blemish of impure affection) Gave th' act allowance, I'le belye my self, And say I did enforce you; which the law May punish with my life. I'le give it up, To end th' affliction of my soule, divided 'Twixt love to you, and duty to that man I have so wrong'd. Can love admit such scruples? Or is't thy coldnesse? I was too too credulous. But the necessity deny'd more tryall. Here's a pretence indeed. Can there be greater? Ingratitude's a monster. Shall I then Repay that man with injurie, that gave My almost starv'd life warmth, and made me breathe Though to be miserable Thou dost surely Want the best part of man, and art not capable. Of resolution. Such a coward spirit Lodgeth not here. I now suspect thy worth, And blame my rashnesse. Why should I be taxt With such defect? Know then I dare deserve you By any enterprize that may be credible. Invention cannot fancy an employment I would not manage to confirm my love Worthy your best opinion, only this My conscience frights me from. Why then farewell. Passion will guide me some where, goodnesse guard me From a despaire; and whatsoever end I am dispos'd for, I'le remember thee Deny'st thy self good in denying me. What's your wine sir? Presently. Stay. Your pleasure sir. I meane not you.