Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1599 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 494 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Believe me, MACILENTE, this is gospel. O, that a man were his own man so much, To rule himself thus. I will strive i'faith, To be more strange and careless: yet, I hope I have now taken such a perfect course, To make her kind to me, and live contented, That I shall find my kindness well returned, And have no need to fight with my affections. She (late) hath found much fault with every room Within my house; one was too big (she said) Another was not furnished to her mind, And so through all: all which, now, I have altered. Then here, she hath a place (on my backside) Wherein she loves to walk; and that (she said) Had some ill smells about it. Now, this walk Have I (before she knows it) thus perfumed With herbs, and flowers, and laid in divers places, (AS 'twere on altars, consecrate to her) Perfumed gloves, and delicate chains of amber, To keep the air in awe of her sweet nostrils: This have I done, and this I think will please her. Behold, she comes. Here's a sweet stink indeed: What, shall I ever be thus crossed, and plagued? And sick of husband? O, my head doth ache, As it would cleave asunder with these favours, All my room's altered, and but one poor walk That I delighted in, and that is made So fulsome with perfumes, that I am feared (My brain doth sweat so) I have caught the plague. Why (gentle wife) is now thy walk too sweet? Thou saidst of late, it had sour airs about it, And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it. Why, and I did find fault, sir? Nay, dear wife; I know, thou hast stayed, thou hast loved perfumes, No woman better. I, long since perhaps, But now that sense is altered: you would have me (Like to a puddle, or a standing pool) To have no motion, nor no spirit within me. No, I am like a pure, and sprightly river, That moves for ever, and yet still the same; Or fire, that burns much wood, yet still one flame. But yesterday, I saw thee at our garden, Smelling on roses, and on purple flowers, And since, I hope, the humour of thy sense Is nothing changed. Why, those were growing flowers, And these, within my walk, are cut and strewed. But yet they have one sent. I! have they so? In your gross judgement. If you make no difference Betwixt the scent of growing flowers, and cut ones, You have a sense to taste lamp-oil, i'faith. And with such judgement have you changed the chambers, Leaving no room, that I can joy to be in, In all your house: and now my walk, and all, You smoke me from, as if I were a fox, And long, belike, to drive me quite away. Well, walk you there, and I'll walk where I list.
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)
Beleeue me, MACILENTE, this is gospell. O, that a man were his owne man so much, To rule himselfe thus. I will striue i'faith, To be more strange and carelesse: yet, I hope I haue now taken such a perfect course, To make her kind to me, and liue contented, That I shall find my kindnesse well return'd, And haue no need to fight with my affections. Shee (late) hath found much fault with euery roome Within my house; one was too big (shee said) Another was not furnisht to her mind, And so through all: all which, now, I haue alter'd. Then here, shee hath a place (on my backe-side) Wherein shee loues to walke; and that (shee said) Had some ill smels about it. Now, this walke Haue I (before shee knowes it) thus perfum'd With herbes, and flowres, and laid in diuers places, (AS 'twere on altars, consecrate to her) Perfumed gloues, and delicate chaines of amber, To keepe the aire in awe of her sweet nostrils: This haue I done, and this I thinke will please her. Behold, shee comes. Here's a sweet stinke indeed: What, shall I euer be thus crost, and plagu'd? And sicke of husband? O, my head doth ake, As it would cleaue asunder with these fauours, All my room's alter'd, and but one poore walke That I delighted in, and that is made So fulsome with perfumes, that I am fear'd (My braine doth sweat so) I haue caught the plague. Why (gentle wife) is now thy walke too sweet? Thou said'st of late, it had sowre aires about it, And found'st much fault, that I did not correct it. Why, and I did find fault, sir? Nay, deare wife; I know, thou hast staid, thou hast lou'd perfumes, No woman better. I, long since perhaps, But now that sense is alter'd: you would haue me (Like to a puddle, or a standing poole) To haue no motion, nor no spirit within me. No, I am like a pure, and sprightly riuer, That moues for euer, and yet still the same; Or fire, that burnes much wood, yet still one flame. But yesterday, I saw thee at our garden, Smelling on roses, and on purple flowres, And since, I hope, the humour of thy sense Is nothing chang'd. Why, those were growing flowres, And these, within my walke, are cut and strew'd. But yet they haue one sent. I! haue they so? In your grosse iudgement. If you make no difference Betwixt the sent of growing flowres, and cut ones, You haue a sense to taste lamp-oile, yfaith. And with such iudgement haue you chang'd the chambers, Leauing no roome, that I can ioy to be in, In all your house: and now my walke, and all, You smoke me from, as if I were a foxe, And long, belike, to driue me quite away. Well, walke you there, and I'le walke where I list.