Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 494 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
Good father hear me speak? I tell thee what, either resolve on thursday next To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church: Or henceforth never look me in the face. Speak not, reply not, for my fingers itch. Why wife, we thought that we were scarcely blest That God had sent us but this only child: But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a cross in having her. Marry God in heaven bless her my Lord, You are too blame to rate her so. And why my Lady wisdom? hold your tongue, Good prudence smatter with your gossips, go. Why my Lord I speak no treason. Oh god god-den. Utter your gravity over a gossip's bowl, For here we need it not. My Lord ye are too hot. God's blessed mother wife it mads me; Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad, Alone, in company, waking or sleeping, Still my care hath been to see her matched. And having now found out a Gentleman, Of Princely parentage, youthful, and nobly trained. Stuffed as they say with honourable parts. Proportioned as one's heart could wish a man: And then to have a wretched whining fool, A puling mammet in her fortunes tender, To say I cannot love, I am too young, I pray you pardon me? But if you cannot wed I'll pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. Look to it, think on't, I do not use to jest. I tell ye what, Thursday is near, Lay hand on heart, advise, bethink yourself, If you be mine, I'll give you to my friend: If not, hang, drown, starve, beg, die in the streets: for by my Soul I'll never more acknowledge thee, Nor what I have shall ever do thee good, Think on't, look to't, I do not use to jest. Is there no pity hanging in the clouds, That looks into the bottom of my woes? I do beseech you Madam, cast me not away, Defer this marriage for a day or two, Or if you cannot, make my marriage bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. Nay be assured I will not speak a word. Do what thou wilt for I have done with thee. Ah Nurse what comfort? what counsel canst thou give me. Now trust me Madam, I know not what to say: Your Romeo he is banished, and all the world to nothing He never dares return to challenge you. Now I think good you marry with this County, Oh he is a gallant Gentleman, Romeo is but a dishclout In respect of him. I promise you I think you happy in this second match. As for your husband he is dead: Or ttwere as good he were, for you have no use of him. Speakest thou this from thy heart? I and from my soul, or else beshrew them Both Amen. What say you Madam?
seed 43: T6 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Good father heare me speake? I tell thee what, eyther resolue on thursday next To goe with Paris to Saint Peters Church: Or henceforth neuer looke me in the face. Speake not, reply not, for my singers ytch. Why wife, we thought that we were scarcely blest That God had sent vs but this onely chyld: But now I see this one is one too much, And that we haue a crosse in hauing her. Mary God in heauen blesse her my Lord, You are too blame to rate her so. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tung, Good prudence smatter with your gossips, goe. Why my Lord I speake no treason. Oh godde godden. Vtter your grauity ouer a gossips boule, For heere we need it not. My Lord ye are too hotte. Gods blessed mother wife it mads me; Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad, Alone, in company, waking or sleeping, Still my care hath beene to see her matcht. And hauing now found out a Gentleman, Of Princely parentage, youthfull, and nobly trainde. Stuft as they say with honorable parts. Proportioned as ones heart coulde wish a man: And then to haue a wretched whyning foole, A puling mammet in her fortunes tender, To say I cannot loue, I am too young, I pray you pardon mee? But if you cannot wedde Ile pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me. Looke to it, thinke ont, I doe not vse to iest. I tell yee what, Thursday is neere, Lay hand on heart, aduise, bethinke your selfe, If you be mine, Ile giue you to my frend: If not, hang, drowne, starue, beg, Dye i the streetes: for by my Soule Ile neuer more acknowledge thee, Nor what I haue shall euer doe thee good, Thinke ont, looke toot, I doe not vse to iest. Is there no pitty hanging in the cloudes, That lookes into the bottom of my woes? I doe beseech you Madame, cast me not away, Defer this mariage for a day or two, Or if you cannot, make my mariage bed In that dimme monument where Tybalt lyes. Nay be assured I will not speake a word. Do what thou wilt for I haue done with thee. Ah Nurse what comfort? what counsell canst thou giue me. Now trust me Madame, I know not what to say: Your Romeo he is banisht, and all the world to nothing He neuer dares returne to challendge you. Now I thinke good you marry with this County, Oh he is a gallant Gentleman, Romeo is but a dishclout In respect of him. I promise you I thinke you happy in this second match. As for your husband he is dead: Or twere as good he were, for you haue no vse of him. Speakst thou this from thy heart? I and from my soule, or els beshrew them Both. Amen. What say you Madame?