How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad · chunk 5 of 43
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 [c.1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Worcester's Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Wonder of women: why hark you M. Arthur, What is your wife a woman or a Saint? A wife, or some bright Angel come from heaven? Are you not moved at this strange spectacle? This day I have beheld a miracle. When I attempt this sacred nuptial life, I beg of heaven to find me such a wife. Ha, ha, a miracle, a prodigy, To see a woman weep is as much pity As to see Foxes digged out of their holes: If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee less, Grieve much: they say grief often shortens life, Come not too near me, till I call he wife. And that will be but seldom, I will tell thee How thou shalt win my heart, die suddenly, And I'll become a lusty widower: The longer thy life lasts the more my hate, And loathing still increaseth towards thee. When I come home & find thee cold as earth, Then will I love thee: thus thou know'st my mind. Come M. Lusam, let us in to dine. O sir, you too much affect this evil, Poor Saint, why wert thou yoked thus with a devil. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly, But that my soul was bought at such a rate, At such a high price as my saviours blood, I would not stick to lose it with a stab. But virtue banish all such fantasies. He is my husband, and I love him well, Next to my own soul's health I tender him: And would give all the pleasures of the world, To buy his love if I might purchase it. I'll follow him, and like a servant wait, And strive by all means to prevent his hate. This is my sons house, were it best go in, How say you master Lusam? How go in, how say you sir? I say 'tis best. ay sir, say you so, so say I too. Nay, nay, it is not best, I'll tell you why, Happily the fire of hate is quite extinct From the dead embers, now to rake them up, Should the least spark of discontent appear, To make the flame of hatred burn afresh, The heat of this dissension might scorch us, Which in his own cold ashes smothered up, May die in silence, and revive no more: And therefore tell me, is it best or no? How say you sir? I say it is not best. Mass you say well sir, & so say I too. But shall we lose our labour to come hither, And without sight of our two children? Go back again, nay we will in that's certain. In quotha, do you make a doubt of that? Shall we come thus far, and in such post haste, And have our children here and both within, And not behold them ere our back return? It were unfriendly, and unfatherly: Come M. Arthur, pray you follow me.
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)
Wonder of women: why hark you M. Arthur, What is your wife a woman or a Saint? A wife, or some bright Angell come from heauen? Are you not mou'd at this straunge spectacle? This day I haue beheld a miracle. When I attempt this sacred nuptiall life, I beg of heauen to finde me such a wife. Ha, ha, a miracle, a progedie, To see a woman weep is as much pittie As to see Foxes digd out of their holes: If thou wilt pleasure me, let me see thee lesse, Greeue much: they say griefe often shortens life, Come not too neare me, till I call hee wife. And that will be but sildome, I will tell thee How thou shalt winne my hart, die sodainly, And Ile become a lustie widower: The longer thy life lasts the more my hate, And loathing still increaseth towards thee. When I come home & finde thee cold as earth, Thē wil I loue thee: thus thou knowst my mind. Come M. Lusam, let vs in to dine. O sir, you too much affect this euil, Pore Saint, why wert thou yoakt thus with a diuel. If thou wilt win my heart, die suddenly, But that my soule was bought at such a rate, At such a high price as my Sauiours bloud, I would not sticke to loose it with a stab. But vertue banish all such fantasies. He is my husband, and I loue him well, Next to my owne soules health I tender him: And would giue all the pleasures of the world, To buy his loue if I might purchase it. Ile follow him, and like a seruant waite, And striue by all meanes to preuent his hate. This is my sonnes house, were it best goe in, How say you maister Lusam? How goe in, how say you sir? I say tis best. I sir, say you so, so say I too. Nay, nay, it is not best, Ile tel you why, Happily the fire of hate is quite extinct From the dead embers, now to rake them vp, Should the least sparke of discontent appeare, To make the flame of hatred burne a fresh, The heate of this dissention might scorch vs, Which in his owne cold ashes smothered vp, May dye in silence, and reuiue no more: And therefore tell me, is it best or no? How say you sir? I say it is not best. Masse you say well sir, & so say I too. But shall we loose our labour to come hither, And without sight of our two children? Goe backe againe, nay we will in that's certaine. In quotha, do you make a doubt of that? Shall we come thus far, and in such post hast, And haue our children here and both within, And not behold them ere our backe returne? It were vnfriendly, and vnfatherly: Come M. Arthur, pray you follow me.