How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad · chunk 29 of 43
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 [c.1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Worcester's Men unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Trust me the virtues of young Arthur's wife, Her constancy, modest humility, Her patience, and admired temperance, Have made me love all women kind the better. O my mistress, my mistress, she's dead, she's gone, she's dead, she's gone. What's that he says? Out of my way, stand back I say, all joy from earth is fled, She is this day as cold as clay, my Mistress she is dead: O Lord, my mistress, my mistress. What mistress Arthur dead? my soul is vanished, And the world's wonder from the world quite banished: O I am sick, my pain grows worse and worse, I am quite struck thorough with this late discourse. What faints thou man? I'll lead thee hence for shame, Sound at the tidings of a woman's death? Intolerable, and beyond all thought, Come my loves fool, give me thy hand to lead, This day one body and two hearts are dead. But now she was as well as well might be, And on the sudden dead; joy in excess Hath overrun her poor disturbed soul. I'll after and see how Master Arthur takes it. His former hate far more suspicious makes it. My M. hath left his gloves behind where he sat in his chair, and hath sent me to fetch them, it is such an old snudge, he will not lose the dropping of his nose. O Mistress, o Hugh, o Hugh, o Mistress, Hugh I must needs beat thee, I am mad, I am lunatic, I must fall upon thee, my Mistress is dead. O M. Pipkin, what do you mean, what do you mean M. Pipkin? O Hue, o Mistress, o Mistress, o Hue. O Pipkin, o God, o God, o Pipkin. O Hue, I am mad, bear with me, I cannot choose, o death, o Mistress, o Mistress, o death. Death quotha, he hath almost made me dead with beating. I wonder why the knave my man stays thus, And comes not back, see where the villain loiters. O M. justice, M. Arthur, M. Lusam, wonder not why I thus blow and bluster, my Mistress is dead, dead is my Mistress, and therefore hang yourselves, ō my Mistress, my Mistress. My sons wife dead? My daughter. Mistress Arthur, here comes her husband. O here the woefulst husband comes alive, No husband now, the wight that did uphold That name of husband is now quite o'erthrown, And I am left a hapless Widower. fain would I speak, if grief would suffer me. As Master Arthur says, so say I, If grief would let me, I would weeping die, To be thus hapless in my aged years, O I would speak, but my words melt to tears. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest Course That ere was laid upon a mournful room, You cannot speak for weeping sorrows doom. Bad news are rife, good tidings seldom come.
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)
Trust me the vertues of young Arthurs wife, Her constancie, modest humilitie, Her patience, and admired temperance, Haue made me loue all women kinde the better. O my mistris, my mistris, shees dead, shees gone, shees dead, shees gone. What's that he sayes? Out of my way, stand back I say, all ioy from earth is fled, She is this day as cold as clay, my Mistris she is dead: O Lord, my mistris, my mistris. What mistris Arhur dead? my soule is vanisht, And the worlds wonder from the world quite banisht: O I am sicke, my paine growes worse and worse, I am quite strooke thorow with this late discourse. What faints thou mā? Ile lead thee hence for shame, Sound at the tydings of a womans death? Intollerable, and beyond all thought, Come my loues foole, giue me thy hand to lead, This day one body and two hearts are dead. But now she was as well as well might be, And on the sudden dead; ioy in excesse Hath ouerrunne her poore disturbed soule. Ile after and see how Maister Arthur takes it. His former hate far more suspitious makes it. My M. hath left his gloues behind where he sat in his chaire, and hath sent me to fetch them, it is such an old snudge, he will not loose the dropping of his nose. O Mistris, ô Hugh, ô Hugh, ô Mistris, Hugh I must needs beate thee, I am mad, I am lunatike, I must fall vpon thee, my Mistris is dead. O M. Pipkin, what do you meane, what do you meane M. Pipkin? O Hue, ô Mistris, ô Mistris, ô Hue. O Pipkin, ô God, ô God, ô Pipkin. O Hue, I am mad, beare with me, I cannot chuse, ô death, ô Mistris, ô Mistris, ô death. Death quotha, he hath almost made me dead with beating. I wonder why the knaue my man stayes thus, And comes not backe, see where the villaine loyters. O M. Iustice, M. Arthur, M. Lusam, wonder not why I thus blow and bluster, my Mistris is dead, dead is my Mistris, and therefore hang your selues, ō my Mistris, my Mistris. My sonnes wife dead? My daughter. Mistris Arthur, here comes her husband. O here the wofuls husband comes aliue, No husband now, the wight that did vphold That name of husband is now quite orethrowne, And I am left a haplesse Widower. Faine would I speake, if griefe would suffer me. As Maister Arthur sayes, so say I, If griefe would let me, I would weeping die, To be thus haplesse in my aged yeares, O I would speake, but my words melt to teares. Go in, go in, and view the sweetest Course That ere was laid vpon a mournfull roome, You cannot speake for weeping sorrowes doome. Badnewes are rife, good tidings sildome come.