Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 484 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Come, you shall have Trent turned. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much Land To any well-deserving friend; But in the way of Bargain, mark ye me, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Are the Indentures drawn? shall we be gone? The Moon shines fair, You may away by Night: I'll haste the Writer; and withal, Break with your Wives, of your departure hence: I am afraid my Daughter will run mad, So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you cross my Father. I cannot choose: sometime he anger's me, With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant, Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies; And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish, A clip-winged Griffin, and a molten Raven, A couching Lion, and a ramping Cat, And such a deal of skimble-skamble Stuffe, As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what, He held me last Night, at least, nine hours, In reckoning up the several Devil's Names, That were his Lackeys: I cried hum, and well, go too, But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious As a tired Horse, a railing Wife, Worse than a smoky House. I had rather live With Cheese and Garlic in a Windmill far, Then feed on Cates, and have him talk to me, In any Summer-House in Christendom. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman, Exceeding well read, and profited, In strange Concealments: Valiant as a Lion, and wondrous affable, And as bountiful, as mines of India. Shall I tell you, Cousin, He holds your temper in a high respect, And curbs himself, even of his natural scope, When you do cross his humour: i'faith he does. I warrant you, that man is not alive, Might so have tempted him, as you have done, Without the taste of danger, and reproof: But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilful blame, And since your coming hither, have done enough, To put him quite besides his patience. You must needs learn, Lord, to amend this fault: Though sometimes it show Greatness, Courage, Blood, And that's the dearest grace it renders you; Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage, Defect of Manners, want of Government, Pride, Haughtiness, Opinion, and Disdain: The least of which, haunting a Nobleman, Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation. Well, I am schooled: Good-manners be your speed; here come your Wives, and let us take our leave. This is the deadly spite, that anger's me, My Wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. My Daughter weeps, she'll not part with you, she'll be a Soldier too, she'll to the Wars. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.
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)
Come, you ſhall haue Trent turn'd. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice ſo much Land To any well-deſeruing friend; But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me, Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre. Are the Indentures drawne? ſhall we be gone? The Moone ſhines faire, You may away by Night: Ile haſte the Writer; and withall, Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence: I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde, So much ſhe doteth on her Mortimer. Fie, Couſin Percy, how you croſſe my Father. I cannot chuſe: ſometime he angers me, With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant, Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies; And of a Dragon, and a finne-leſſe Fiſh, A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen, A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat, And ſuch a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe, As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what, He held me laſt Night, at leaſt, nine howres, In reckning vp the ſeuerall Deuils Names, That were his Lacqueyes: I cry'd hum, and well, goe too, But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious As a tyred Horſe, a rayling Wife, Worſe then a ſmoakie Houſe. I had rather liue With Cheeſe and Garlick in a Windmill farre, Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me, In any Summer-Houſe in Chriſtendome. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman, Exceeding well read, and profited, In ſtrange Concealements: Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable, And as bountifull, as Mynes of India. Shall I tell you, Couſin, He holds your temper in a high reſpect, And curbes himſelfe, euen of his naturall ſcope, When you doe croſſe his humor: 'faith he does. I warrant you, that man is not aliue, Might ſo haue tempted him, as you haue done, Without the taſte of danger, and reproofe: But doe not vſe it oft, let me entreat you. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame, And ſince your comming hither, haue done enough, To put him quite beſides his patience. You muſt needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault: Though ſometimes it ſhew Greatneſſe, Courage, Blood, And that's the deareſt grace it renders you; Yet oftentimes it doth preſent harſh Rage, Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment, Pride, Haughtineſſe, Opinion, and Diſdaine: The leaſt of which, haunting a Nobleman, Loſeth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a ſtayne Vpon the beautie of all parts beſides, Beguiling them of commendation. Well, I am ſchool'd: Good-manners be your ſpeede; Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue. This is the deadly ſpight, that angers me, My Wife can ſpeake no Engliſh, I no Welſh. My Daughter weepes, ſhee'le not part with you, Shee'le be a Souldier too, ſhee'le to the Warres. Good Father tell her, that ſhe and my Aunt Percy Shall follow in your Conduct ſpeedily.