Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Faith, kind uncle, when men abandon jealousy, forsake taking of Tobacco, and cease to wear their beards so rudely long. Oh, to have a husband with a mouth continually smoking, with a bush of furs on the ridge of his chin, ready still to slop into his foaming chaps; ah, 'tis more than most intolerable. Nay faith, sweet niece, I was mighty strong in thought we should have shut up night with an old Comedy: the Prince of Milan shall have Mellida, & thou shouldst have nobody, good sweet uncle. I tell you, sir, I have 39. servants, and my monkey that makes the fortieth. Now I love all of them lightly for something, but affect none of them seriously for any thing. One's a passionate fool, and he flatters me above belief: the second's a tasty ape, and he rails at me beyond reason: the three's as grave as some Censor, and he stroke up his moustaches three times, and makes six plots of set faces, before he speaks one wise word: the four's as dry, as the burr of an artichoke; the fifth paints, and hath always a good colour for what he speaks: the sixth Stay, stay, sweet niece, what makes you thus suspect young gallants worth. Oh, when I see one were a periwig, I dread his hair; another wallow in a great slop, I mistrust the proportion of his thigh; and wears a ruffled boot, I fear the fashion of his leg. Thus, something in each thing, one trick in every thing makes me mistrust imperfection in all parts; and there's the full point of my addiction. The room's too scant: boys, stand in there, close. In faith, fair sir, I am too sad to dance. How's that, how's that? too sad? By heaven dance, And grace him to, or, go to, I say no more. A burning glass, the word splendente Phoebo? 'tis too curious, I conceit it not. Faith, i'll tell thee. I'll no longer burn, than you'll shine and smile upon my love. For look ye fairest, by your pure sweets, I do not dote upon your excellence. And faith, unless you shed your brightest beams Of sunny favour, and acceptive grace Upon my tender love, I do not burn: Marry but shine, and i'll reflect your beams, with fervent ardour. Faith I would be loath to flatter thee fair soul, because I love, not dote, court like thy husband; which thy father swears, to morrow morn I must be. This is all, and now from henceforth, trust me Mellida, I'll not speak one wise word to thee more. I trust ye. By my troth, I'll speak pure fool to thee now. You will speak the liker yourself. Good faith, I'll accept of the coxcomb, so you will not refuse the babble. Nay good sweet, keep them both, I am enamoured of neither.
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)
Faith, kinde vncle, when men abandon ielosy, forsake taking of Tobacco, and cease to weare their beardes so rudely long. Oh, to haue a husband with a mouth continually smoaking, with a bush of furs on the ridge of his chinne, readie still to slop into his foming chaps; ah, tis more than most intollerable. Nay faith, sweete neece, I was mightie strong in thought we should haue shut vp night with an ould Comedie: the Prince of Millane shall haue Mellida, & thou shouldst haue No bodie, good sweete vncle. I tell you, sir, I haue 39. seruants, and my munkey that makes the fortieth. Now I loue al of them lightly for something, but affect none of them seriously for any thing. One's a passionate foole, and hee flatters mee aboue beliefe: the second's a teastie ape, and hee railes at me beyond reason: the third's as graue as some Censor, and hee strokes vp his mustachoes three times, and makes six plots of set faces, before he speakes one wise word: the fourth's as dry, as the burre of an heartichoke; the fifth paints, and hath alwaies a good colour for what hee speakes: the sixt Stay, stay, sweet neece, what makes you thus suspect young gallants worth. Oh, when I see one were a perewig, I dreade his haire; another wallowe in a greate sloppe, I mistrust the proportion of his thigh; and wears a ruffled boot, I feare the fashion of his legge. Thus, something in each thing, one tricke in euery thing makes me mistrust imperfection in all parts; and there's the full point of my addiction. The roome's too scant: boyes, stand in there, close. In faith, faire sir, I am too sad to daunce. How's that, how's that? too sad? By heauen dance, And grace him to, or, goe to, I say no more. A burning glasse, the word splendente Phoebo? Tis too curious, I conceipt it not. Faith, ile tel thee. Ile no longer burne, then youle shine and smile vpon my loue. For looke yee fairest, by your pure sweets, I doe not dote vpon your excellence. And faith, vnlesse you shed your brightest beames Of sunny fauour, and acceptiue grace Vpon my tender loue, I doe not burne: Marry but shine, and ile reflect your beames, with feruent ardor. Faith I wold be loath to flatter thee faire soule, because I loue, not doat, court like thy husband; which thy father sweares, to morrowe morne I must be. This is all, and now from henceforth, trust me Mellida, Ile not speake one wise word to thee more. I trust yee. By my troth, Ile speak pure foole to thee now. You will speake the liker your selfe. Good faith, Ile accept of the cockescombe, so you will not refuse the bable. Nay good sweet, keepe them both, I am enamour'd of neither.