D., J. · published 1640 · first performed or written c.1625 [revised c.1632] (Annals) comedy · Unknown · Fortune unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Lodowick, is not this your practice? Why, dost thou think me so simple, so ridiculous. No, I'll assure you, It's a token of good will of my Masters, there's no brain guilty on't but his own: if you like it you may, and you will not, the laws in your own hands, you may choose. Good Gentlemen return the Carrier. What? a cuff or a knock. He has penned a Song too, which I should have tickled, if I had not been hoarse with drinking flapdragons last night. What's thy name? Fub. Prithee honest Fub, tickle thyself out of our companies, we'll be Fubbed no longer. Will not you be Fubbed Sir. Thou knowest my resolution. Nay, but will ye not indeed? No faith. I am glad I know't,— be with you. Have you any wine i'th' house? Yes dearest. Come, a pox a these devices, hang off: will you drink Vallentius? Will I live? Where's the Matron? The Matron, Lord, you're the strangest man.— Your Matron Grandum, what will you have it, your Bawd? I must be quiet. Nay, enter, enter. The easy time, and such as thrive in it, favour my wishes, the ignorant whose sole dependence is on verity, and carry conscience in their timorous breasts, are not associates meet for Iulio. Those that ne'er knew the strain of Policy, nor aim at more, then what may well content, draw not my length, the way to prosper, the directest course such are my sore necessities, is to get liking of this lovely Maid Franciscus' sister, bright Phemone, the Virgin's modest, chaste, and debonair, besides her brother's rich, there hang my hopes, but she affects not me, all her desires are on young Antonio's, rich Arbaces son, my friend (supposed) at least, but that is breath; by what man has, or can have, he's my foe that hinders my design, where he my next of blood, that shall he find: the mean to purchase what I reach at now, there is but only one, one only mean that can supplant him, here it lies shall do't, were he as dear in estimation as Nisus to Euryalus. I love myself, I count him still most wise, That cares not who's thrown down so he arise. THou hast to say something, yet nothing I hope trivial, by our known affection I beseech thee, speak what thou canst. I would I had embraced my poverty, while the pale Moon has residence in heaven, would I had been deaf. Whereto tends this speech if I thought my fault, or any ones pertained to me, through wilful negligence, or otherwise, to breed the occasion of this passionate mood, I should condemn the cause of the offence, and deem myself unhappy. Can heaven suffer it? What, what does heaven suffer, speak my Iulio? Too much of ill. Let me know that ill, and I rest satisfied. Pray no more, the malady is mortal, unsanctified, monstrous. Anthonio is there such a man?
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)
Lodowick, is not this your practice? Why, doſt thou think me ſo ſimple, ſo ridiculous. No, Ile aſſure you, It's a token of good will of my Maſters, there's no brain guilty ont but his own: if you like it you may, and you will not, the laws in your own hands, you may chooſe. Good Gentlemen return the Carrier. What? a cuffe or a knock. Hee has penn'd a Song too, which I ſhould have tickled, if I had not been hoarſe with drinking Flap-Dragons laſt night. Whats thy name? Fub. Prethee honeſt Fub, tickle thy ſelfe out of our companies, weele be Fubb'd no longer. Will not you be Fubb'd Sir. Thou knoweſt my reſolution. Nay, but will ye not indeed? No faith▪ I am glad I know't,—be with you. Have you any wine ith' houſe? Yes deareſt. Come, a pox a theſe devices, hang off: will you drink Vallentius? Will I live? Where's the Matron? The Matron, Lord, you're the ſtrangeſt man.— Your Matron Grandum, what will you have it, your Bawd? I muſt be quiet. Nay, enter, enter. The eaſie time, and ſuch as thrive in it, favour my wiſhes, the ignorant whoſe ſole dependance is on veritie, and carry conſcience in their timorous breſts, are not aſſociates meet for Iulio. Thoſe that neere knew the ſtraine of Policie, nor ayme at more, then what may well content, draw not my length, the way to proſper, the directeſt courſe ſuch are my ſore neceſſities, is to get liking of this lovely Maid Franciſcus ſiſter, bright Phemone, the Virgin's modeſt, chaſt, and debonaire, beſides her brother's rich, there hang my hopes, but ſhee affects not mee, all her deſires are on young Anthonios, rich Arbaces ſonne, my friend (ſuppos'd) at leaſt, but that is breath; by what man has, or can have, he's my foe that hinders my deſigne, where hee my next of bloud, that ſhall he finde: the meane to purchaſe what I reach at now, there is but only one, one only meane that can ſupplant him, here it lies ſhall doo't, were hee as deare in eſtimation as Niſus to Eurialus. I love my ſelfe, I count him ſtill moſt wiſe, That cares not who's thrown down ſo he ariſe. THou haſt to ſay ſomthing, yet nothing I hope triviall, by our known affection I beſeech thee, ſpeak what thou canſt. I would I had embraced my povertie, while the pale Moone has reſidence in heaven, would I had beene deafe. Whereto tends this ſpeech if I thought my fault, or any ones pertain'd to mee, through wilfull negligence, or otherwiſe, to breed the occaſion of this paſſionate mood, I ſhould condemne the cauſe of the offence, and deeme my ſelf unhappy. Can heaven ſuffer it? What, what does heaven ſuffer, ſpeak my Iulio? Too much of ill. Let me know that ill, and I reſt ſatisfied. Pray no more, the malady is mortall, unſanctified, monſtrous. Anthonio is there ſuch a man?