Whetstone, George · published 1578 · first performed or written 1578 [1576-1579] (Annals) comedy · Unacted unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
He is a crafty child, dally, but do not. Tush, I warrant thee, I am not so hot, Your words are too hard Sir, for me to construe. Then to be short, your rare beauty my heart hath wounded so, As (save your love, become my leech) I sure shall die with woe. I see no sign of death, in your face to appear, 'tis but some usual qualm you have, pitiful Dames to fears. Fair Lamia, trust me I feign not, betimes bestow some grace. Well, I admit it so, only to argue in your case. I am married, so that to set your love on me were vain: It sufficeth me, that I may your secret friend remain. A holy Hood, makes not a Friar devout, He will play at small game, or he sit out. Though for pleasure, or to prove me, these proffers you do move, You are to wise, to hazard life, upon my yielding love: The man is pained with present death, that useth wanton pleasure. To scape such pain, wise men, these joys, without suspect can measure, Furthermore, I have been (my Girl) a Lawyer to too long: If at a pinch, I cannot wrist the Law from right to wrong. If law you do profess. I gladly crave, In a cause or two, your advise to have. To resolve you, you shall command my skill, Wherefore like friends, let's common in good will, You are a merry man, but leave to jest, To morrow night, if you will be my Jest: At my poor house, you shall my causes know, For good cause, which I mean not here to show. Willingly, and for that, haste calls me hence, My suit till then, shall remain in suspense: Farewell Client, to morrow look for me: Your good welcome Sir, your best cheer will be. I told you erst, the nature of Phallax, Money, or fair Women, works him as wax: And yet I must commend your sober cheer, You told your tale, as if a Saint you were. Well (in seeréete, be it said) how so I seemed divine, I feared once, a blue gown, would have been my shrine. But now that pain is flayed, and pleasure keeps his hold, I know that Phallax will, my Fame henceforth uphold: To entertain which Jest, I will some dainty cheer prepare, Yet ere I go, in pleasant Song, I mean to purge my care. A due poor care, adieu, Go, cloy some helpless wretch: My life, to make me rue, Thy forces do not stretch. Thy harbour, is the heart, Whom wrong, hath wrapped, in woe: But wrong, doth take my part, With cloak of right in shoe. My faults, inquiry escape, At them the judges wink: Those for my fall that gape, To show my lewdness shrink. Then silly care go pack, Thou art no Jest for me: I have, and have, no lack, And lack, is shroud for thee.
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)
He is a craftie childe, dally, but do not. Tuſh, I warrant thee, I am not ſo whot, Your wordes are too harde Sir, for me to conſter. Then to be ſhort, your rare bewtie my hart hath wounded ſo, As (ſaue your loue, become my leach) I ſure ſhall die with woe. I ſee no ſigne of death, in your face to appeare, Tis but ſome vſuall qualme you haue, pitifull Dames to fears. Faire Lamia, truſt me I faine not, betimes beſtow ſom grace. Well, I admit it ſo, onelie to argue in your caſe. I am maried, ſo that to ſet your loue on me were vaine: It ſuffiſeth me, that I may your ſecrete friend remaine. A holie Hoode, makes not a Frier deuoute, He will playe at ſmall game, or he ſitte out. Though for pleaſure, or to proue me, theſe profers you do moue, You are to wiſe, to haſſarde life, vpon my yeelding loue: The man is painde with preſent death, that vſeth wanton pleaſure. To ſcape ſuch paine, wiſe men, theſe ioyes, without ſuſpect cā meaſure, Furthermore, I haue ben (my Girle) a Lawier to too lōg: If at a pinche, I cannot wreſt the Law from right to wrong. If lawe you do profeſſe. I gladlie craue, In a cauſe or two, your aduiſe to haue. To reſolue you, you ſhall commaunde my ſkyll, Wherfore like friendes, lets common in good wyll, You are a merie man, but leaue to ieaſt, To morrowe night, if you will be my Geaſt: At my poore houſe, you ſhall my cauſes knowe, For good cauſe, which I meane not here to ſhowe. Willinglie, and for that, haſte calles me hence, My ſute tyll then, ſhall remaine in ſuſpence: Farewell Clyent, to morrow looke for me: Your good welcome Sir, your beſt cheere will be. I tolde you earſt, the nature of Phallax, Money, or faire Women, workes him as waxe: And yet I muſt commend your ſober cheere, You tolde your tale, as if a Saint you were. Well (in ſeeréete, be it ſayde) how ſo I ſéemd diuine, I feared once, a blew gowne, would haue bene my ſhrine. But nowe that paine is flead, and pleaſure kéepes his holde, I knowe that Phallax will, my Fame henceforth vpholde: To entertaine which Geaſt, I will ſome dayntie chéere prepare, Yet ere I go, in pleaſant Song, I meane to purge my care. ❧ A due poore care, adue, Go, cloye ſome helples wretche: My life, to make me rue, Thy forces do not ſtretche. Thy harbor, is the harte, Whom wrong, hath wrapt, in woe: But wrong, doth take my parte, VVith cloke of right in shoe. My faultes, inquirie ſcape, At them the Iudges winke: Thoſe for my fall that gape, To ſhowe my lewdneſſe ſhrinke. Then ſilly care go packe, Thou art no Geaſt for mee: I haue, and haue, no lacke, And lacke, is ſhrowde for thee.