The Constant Maid (Love Will Find Out the Way) · chunk 3 of 32
Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1630(?)-1640] (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
Why? She never thrived since she came to me. I easily believe it. Melancholy Will kill her, and yet I pursue all ways That promise her delight: I spare no cost Of Physic, what her Doctor says, is done. 'Tis lovingly performed. What's he? A Gentleman that bears my daughter much Affection. Sure I have seen him. Master Hartwell. Oh, he's a beggar, or must be very shortly. Have you his lands in mortgage? Not yet, not yet; but he'll want money, widow. He has had good breeding. Hang breeding, 'tis unlucky, They never keep their state that have too much on't, Counsel your daughter, Mistress Bellamy, To throw him off betime. You direct well. When we are married, I'll provide a match for her. You have care on's. It will become me. Is he Suitor to your mother, Lady? He would be such a thing: Were not I blessed In such a jolly father in law? He looks like some cast moneybag, that had given up The stuffing, and for want of use grown mouldy: He dares not keep much fire in's kitchen, lest Warming his hands, which rather look like gloves, So tanned and thin, he let 'em scorch, and gather Into a heap. I do not think he ever Put off his clothes, he would run-mad to see His own anatomy, that such a wretch Should have so vast a wealth. I would not be his Niece for all his fortune. I presume Your mother is more noble, than to encourage him In his pretence, and her estate would mix But ill with his ill-gotten wealth, extorted From widows and from orphans, nor will all His plenty keep his soul one day from famine: 'Tis time ill spent to mention him, let's talk Of something else. Of what? Of love again, Whose flame we equally divide. Your table Is a devourer, and they shut up doors First, that keep open house and entertainments: This Lord is feasted, and that young lady's Sweet tooth must have a banquet; tother old Madam with ne'er a tooth must have some marchpane Coral to rub her gums withal; these are Ridiculous expenses. Far from thrift. This room has too rich furniture, and worse Hangings would serve the turn; if I may be Worthy to counsel, costly pictures are Superfluous, though of this, or tother masters Doing: Hang Michael Angelo and his oils. If they be given, you're the more excused To let 'em show; but have a care you let not Appear, either in Arras, or in picture, The story of the Prodigal, 'twill fright Young Gentlemen that come to visit you From spending o'their portions, whose riot May enrich you with their forfeited estates; I have a thousand precepts more. But do not Think all this while of heaven. 'Tis in my chest, And multiplied in every bag. Or hell.
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)
Why? She never thriv'd since she came to mee. I easily beleeve it. Melancholly Will kill her, and yet I pursue all wayes That promise her delight: I spare no cost Of Physick, what her Doctor sayes, is done. 'Tis lovingly perform'd. What's he? A Gentleman that beares my daughter much Affection. Sure I have seene him. Master Hartwell. Oh, he's a beggar, or must be verie shortly. Have you his lands in morgage? Not yet, not yet; but he'll want money, widdow. He has had good breeding. Hang breeding, 'tis unlucky, They never keep their state that have too much on't, Counsell your daughter, Mistresse Bellamy, To throw him off betime. You direct well. When we are married, I'll provide a match for her. You have care on's. It will become me. Is he Suitor to your mother, Lady? He would be such a thing: Were not I blest In such a jolly father in law? He looks like some cast money-bag, that had given up The stuffing, and for want of use growne mouldy: He dares not keep much fire in's kitchin, lest Warming his hands, which rather looke like gloves, So tann'd and thin, he let em scorch, and gather Into a heap. I do not think he ever Put off his clothes, he would run-mad to see His owne anatomy, that such a wretch Should have so vast a wealth. I wod not be his Niece for all his fortune. I presume Your mother is more noble, than to encourage him In his pretence, and her estate would mix But ill with his ill-gotten wealth, extorted From widdowes and from or plans, nor will all His plentie keep his soule one day from famine: 'Tis time ill spent to mention him, let's talk Of something else. Of what? Of love agen, Whose flame we equally divide. Your table Is a devourer, and they shut up doores First, that keep open house and entertainments: This Lord is feasted, and that young Ladies Sweet tooth must have a banquet; t'other old Madam with ne're a tooth must have some marchpane Corall to rub her gums withall; these are Ridiculous expences. Far from thrift. This roome has too rich furniture, and worse Hangings would serve the turne; if I may be Worthy to counsell, costly pictures are Superfluous, though of this, or t'other masters Doing: Hang Michael Angelo and his oyles. If they be given, y'are the more excus'd To let 'em shew; but have a care you let not Appeare, either in Arras, or in picture, The storie of the Prodigall, 'twill fright▪ Young Gentlemen that come to visit you From spending o'their portions, whose riot May enrich you with their forfeited estates; I have a thousand precepts more. But do not Think all this while of heaven. 'Tis in my chest, And multiplyed in everie bag. Or hell.