The Magnetic Lady, or Humors Reconciled · chunk 34 of 45
Jonson, Ben · published 1640 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Oct 12] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T32 Rings and jewels as tokens typicality 0.85 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T32: ring, ti, gave, finger, jewel, lady, lord, love, invisible, away.
I and a Poesy: Annulus hic nobis, quod scit uterque dabit. Good! This Ring will give you what you both desire. I'll make the whole house chant it, and the Parish. Why, well said Parson. Now to you my news, That comprehend my reasons, Mistress Pleasance. Go, get a Nurse, procure her at what rate You can: and out o'th'house with it, son Needle. It is a bad Commodity. Good Mother, I know it, but the best would now be made on't. And shall: you should not fret so, Mistress Polish, Nor you Dame Keep; my Daughter shall do well, When she has ta'en my Caudle. I ha' known Twenty such breaches pieced up, and made whole, Without a bum of noise. You two fall out? And tear up one another? Blessed woman? Blessed be the Peacemaker. The Pease-dresser! I'll hear no peace from her. I have been wronged, So has my Lady, my good Lady's worship, And I will right her, hoping she'll right me. Good gentle Keep, I pray thee Mistress Nurse, Pardon my passion, I was misadvised, Be thou yet better, by this grave sage woman, Who is the Mother of Matrons, and great persons, And knows the world. I do confess, she knows Something— and I know something—. Put your somethings. Together than. I, here's a chance fall'n out You cannot help; less can this Gentlewoman; I can and will, for both. First, I have sent By-chop away; the cause gone, the fame ceaseth. Than by my Caudle, and my Cullis, I set My Daughter on her feet, about the house here: she's young, and must stir somewhat for necessity, Her youth will bear it out. She shall pretend, T'have had a fit o'the Mother: there is all. If you have but a Secretary Laundress, To blanche the Linen— Take the former counsels Into you; keep them safe i' your own breasts; And make your Merkat of 'em at the highest. Will you go peach, and cry yourself a fool At Granam's Cross? be laughed at, and despised▪ Betray a purpose, which the Deputy Of a double Ward, or scarce his Alderman, With twelve of the wisest Questmen could found out, Employed by the Authority of the City? Come, come, be friends: and keep these women-matters, Smock-secrets to ourselves, in our own verge. We shall mar all, if once we open the mysteries O' the Tiring-house, and tell what's done within: Not theatres are more cheated with appearances, Or these shop-lights, than th' Ages, and folk in them, That seem most curious. Breath of an Oracle! You shall be my dear Mother; wisest woman That ever tipped her tongue, with point of reasons, To turn her hearers! Mistress Keep, relent, I did abuse thee; I confess to penance: And on my knees ask thee forgiveness. Rise, She doth begin to melt, I see it—. Nothing Grieved me so much, as when you called me Bawd: Witch did not trouble me, nor Gipsy; no Nor Beggar. But a Bawd, was such a name!
nodes 2025–2095 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 34 of 45 in this edition
Length
506 words · 729 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T32 — Rings and jewels as tokenscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.850 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T33 · seed 44: T32 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I and a Poeſie: Annulus hic nobis, quod ſcit uter que dabit. Good! This Ring will give you what you both deſire. Ile make the whole houſe chant it, and the Pariſh. Why, well ſaid Parſon. Now to you my newes, That comprehend my reaſons, Mrs. Pleaſance. Goe, get a Nurſe, procure her at what rate You can: and out o'th'houſe with it, ſonne Needle. It is a bad Commoditie. Good Mother, I know it, but the beſt would now be made on't. And ſhall: you ſhould not fret ſo, Mrs. Poliſh, Nor you Dame Keepe; my Daughter ſhall doe well, When ſhe has tane my Cawdle. I ha' knowne Twenty ſuch breaches piec'd up, and made whole, Without a bum of noiſe. You two fall out? And teare up one another? Bleſſed woman? Bleſt be the Peace-maker. The Peaſe-dreſſer! Ile heare no peace from her. I have beene wrong'd, So has my Lady, my good Ladies worſhip, And I will right her, hoping ſhee'll right me. Good gentle Keepe, I pray thee Miſtris Nurſe, Pardon my paſſion, I was miſadvis'd, Be thou yet better, by this grave ſage woman, Who is the Mother of Matrons, and great perſons, And knowes the world. I doe confeſſe, ſhe knowes Something—and I know ſomething—. Put your ſomethings. Together then. I, here's a chance falne out You cannot helpe; leſſe can this Gentlewoman; I can and will, for both. Firſt, I have ſent By-chop away; the cauſe gone, the fame ceaſeth. Then by my Cawdle, and my Cullice, I ſet My Daughter on her feet, about the houſe here: Shee's young, and muſt ſtirre ſomewhat for neceſſity, Her youth will beare it out. She ſhall pretend, T'have had a fit o'the Mother: there is all. If you have but a Secretary Landreſſe, To blanch the Linnen—Take the former counſels Into you; keepe them ſafe i' your owne breſts; And make your Merkat of 'hem at the higheſt. Will you goe peach, and cry yourſelfe a foole At Granam's Croſſe? be laugh'd at, and diſpis'd▪ Betray a purpoſe, which the Deputie Of a double Ward, or ſcarce his Alderman, With twelve of the wiſeſt Queſtmen could find out, Imployed by the Authority of the Citie? Come, come, be friends: and keepe theſe women-matters, Smock-ſecrets to our ſelves, in our owne verge. Wee ſhall marre all, if once we ope the myſteries O' the Tyring-houſe, and tell what's done within: No Theaters are more cheated with apparances, Or theſe ſhop-lights, then th' Ages, and folke in them, That ſeeme moſt curious. Breath of an Oracle! You ſhall be my deare Mother; wiſeſt woman That ever tip'd her tongue, with point of reaſons, To turne her hearers! Miſtris Keepe, relent, I did abuſe thee; I confeſſe to pennance: And on my knees aske thee forgiveneſſe. Riſe, She doth begin to melt, I ſee it—. Nothing Griev'd me ſo much, as when you call'd me Baud: Witch did not trouble me, nor Gipſie; no Nor Beggar. But a Baud, was ſuch a name!