Nashe, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1592 (Annals) comedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 453 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Winter, with patience unto my grief, I have attended thy invective tale: So much untruth wit never shadowed: 'gainst her own bowels thou Arts weapons turn'st: Let none believe thee, that will ever thrive: Words have their course, the wind blows where it lists; He errs alone, in error that persists. For thou 'gainst Autumn such exceptions tak'st, I grant, his overseer thou shalt be, His treasurer, protector, and his staff, He shall do nothing without thy consent; Provide thou for his weal, and his content. Thanks, gracious Lord. so I'll dispose of him, As it shall not repent you of your gift. On such conditions no crown will I take. I challenge Winter for my enemy, A most insatiate miserable carl, That, to fill up his garners to the brim, Cares not how he endamageth the earth: What poverty he makes it to endure! He over-bars the crystal streams with ye, That none but he and his may drink of them: All for a foul backwinter he lays up; Hard craggy ways, and uncouth slippery paths He frames, that passengers may slide and fall: Who quaketh not, that heareth but his name? O, but two sons he hath, worse than himself, Christmas the one, a pinchback, cut-throat churl, That keeps no open house, as he should do, Delighteth in no game or fellowship, Loves no good deeds, and hateth talk, But sitteth in a corner turning Crabs, Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of Ale: backwinter th'other, that's his none sweet boy, Who like his father taketh in all points, An elf it is, compact of envious pride, A miscreant, borne for a plague to men. A monster, that devoureth all he meets: Were but his father dead, so he would reign: Yea he would go goodneere, to deal by him, As Nabuchodonozor's ungracious son, Euilmerodach by his father dealt: Who, when his sire was turned to an Ox, Full greedily snatched up his sovereignty, And thought himself a king without control. So it fell out, seven years expired and gone, Nabuchodonozor came to his shape again, And dispossessed him of the regiment: Which my young prince no little grieving at, When that his father shortly after died, Fearing lest he should come from death again, As he came from an Ox to be a man, Wiled that his body spoiled of coverture, Should be cast forth into the open fields, For Birds and Ravens, to devour at will, Thinking if they bore every one of them, A bill full of his flesh into their nests, He would not rise, to trouble him in haste. A virtuous son, and I'll lay my life on't, he was a Cavalier and a good fellow.
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)
Winter, with patience vnto my griefe, I haue attended thy inuectiue tale: So much vntrueth wit neuer shadowed: Gainst her owne bowels thou Arts weapons turn'st: Let none beleeue thee, that will euer thriue: Words haue their course, the winde blowes where it lists; He erres alone, in error that persists. For thou gainst Autumne such exceptions tak'st, I graunt, his ouer-seer thou shalt be, His treasurer, protector, and his staffe, He shall do nothing without thy consent; Prouide thou for his weale, and his content. Thanks, gracious Lord. so Ile dispose of him, As it shall not repent you of your gift. On such conditions no crowne will I take. I challenge Winter for my enemie, A most insaciate miserable carle, That, to fill vp his garners to the brim, Cares not how he indammageth the earth: What pouerty he makes it to indure! He ouer-bars the christall streames with yee, That none but he and his may drinke of them: All for a fowle Back-winter he layes vp; Hard craggie wayes, and vncouth slippery paths He frames, that passengers may slide and fall: Who quaketh not, that heareth but his name? O, but two sonnes he hath, worse then himselfe, Christmas the one, a pinch-back, cut-throate churle, That keepes no open house, as he should do, Delighteth in no game or fellowship, Loues no good deeds, and hateth talke, But sitteth in a corner turning Crabbes, Or coughing o're a warmed pot of Ale: Back-winter th'other, that's his none sweet boy, Who like his father taketh in all points, An elfe it is, compact of enuious pride, A miscreant, borne for a plague to men. A monster, that deuoureth all he meetes: Were but his father dead, so he would raigne: Yea he would go goodneere, to deale by him, As Nabuchodonozors vngratious sonne, Euilmerodach by his father dealt: Who, when his sire was turned to an Oxe, Full greedily suatcht vp his soueraigntie, And thought himselfe a king without controwle. So it fell out, seuen yeares expir'de and gone, Nabuchodonozor came to his shape againe, And dispossest him of the regiment: Which my young prince no little greeuing at, When that his father shortly after dide, Fearing lest he should come from death againe, As he came from an Oxe to be a man, Wil'd that his body spoylde of couerture, Should be cast foorth into the open fieldes, For Birds and Rauens, to deuoure at will, Thinking if they bare euery one of them, A bill full of his flesh into their nests, He would not rise, to trouble him in haste. A vertuous sonne, and Ile lay my life on't, he was a Caualiere and a good fellow.