How a Man May Choose a Good Wife from a Bad · chunk 34 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 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Mistress, this gentleman hath news to tell ye, And as you like of it, so think of me. Your husband hath already got a wife, A huffing wench i'faith, whose ruffling silks, Make with their motion, music unto love, And you are quite forgotten. I have sworn to move this my unchaste demand no more. When doth your colour change? When doth your eyes Sparkle with fire to revenge these wrongs? When doth your tongue breake into rage and wra Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband, He first misused you. And yet can you love him? He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed Of sacred marriage with a Courtesan. Yet can you love him? And not content with this, Abused your honest name with slanderous words, And filled your hushed house with unquietness. And can you love him yet? Nay did he not with his rude fingers dash you on the face, And double dye your Coral lips with blood? Hath he not torn those Gold wires from your head, Wherewith Apollo would have strung his Harp, And kept them to play music to the Gods? Hath he not beat you, and with his rude fists, Upon that crimson temperature of your cheeks, Laid a lead colour with his boisterous blows. And can you love him yet? Then did he not Either by poison, or some other plot, Send you to death, where by his Providence, God hath preserved you by wondrous miracle? Nay after death hath he not scandalized Your place, with an immodest Courtesan? And can you love him yet? And yet, and yet, and still, and ever whilst I breath this air: Nay after death my unsubstantial soul, Like a good Angel shall attend on him, And keep him from all harm. t is he married, much good do his heart, Pray God she may content him better far Than I have done: long may they live in peace, Till I disturb their solace; but because I fear some mischief doth hang his head, I'll weep mine eyes dry with my present care, And for their healths make hoarse my tongue with prayer. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, She is created of Nature's purity. O yes, I too well know she is a woman, Henceforth my virtue shall my love withstand, And on my striving thoughts get the upper hand. Then thus resolved, I straight will drink to thee, A health thus deep, to drown thy melancholy. Not have my will, yes I will have my will, Shall I not go abroad but when you please? Can I not now and then meet with my friends, But at my coming home you will control me? Marry come up. Where are thou patience? Nay rather where's become my former spleen? I had a wife would not have used me so.
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)
Mistris, this gentleman hath news to tel ye, And as you like of it, so think of me. Your husband hath alreadie got a wife, A huffing wench yfaith, whose rufflng silkes, Make with their motion, musicke vnto loue, And you are quite forgotten. I haue sworne to moue this my vnchaste demand no more. When doth your colour change? When doth your eyes Sparkle with fire to reuenge these wrongs? When doth your tongue breake into rage and wra Against that scum of manhood, your vile husband, He first misvde you. And yet can you loue him? He left your chaste bed, to defile the bed Ofsacred marriage with a Curtezan. Yet can you loue him? And not content with this, Abus'd your honest name with staundrous words, And fild your husht house with vnquietnesse. And can you loue him yet? Nay did he not with his rude fingers dash you on the face, And double dye your Corrall lips with bloud? Hath he not torne those Gold wyers from your head, Wherewith Apollo would haue strung his Harpe, And kept them to play musicke to the Gods? Hath he not beate you, and with his rude fists, Vpō that Crimzon temperature of your cheeks, Laid a lead colour with his boystrous blowes. And can you loue him yet? Then did he not Eyther by poison, or some other plot, Send you to death, where by his Prouidence, God hath preseru'd you by wondrous myracle? Nay after death hath he not scandaliz'd Your place, with an immodest Curtizan? And can you loue him yet? And yet, and yet, and still, and euer whilst I breathe this ayre: Nay after death my vnsubstantiall soule, Like a good Angell shall attend on him, And keepe him from all harme. t is he married, much good do his heart, God she may content him better farre Then I haue done: long may they liue in peace, Till I disturbe their solace; but because I feare some mischiefe doth hangore his head, Ile weepe mine eyes drie with my present care, And for their healths make hoarce my toong with praier. Art sure she is a woman? if she be, She is create of Natures puritie. O yes, I too well know she is a woman, Henceforth my vertue shall my loue withstand, And on my striuing thoughts get the vpper hād. Then thus resolu'd, I straight will drinke to thee, A health thus deepe, to drowne thy melancholy. Not haue my will, yes I will haue my will, Shall I not goe abroad but when you please? Can I not now and then meete with my friends, But at my comming home you will controwle me? Marrie come vp. Where are thou patience? Nay rather wheres become my former spleene? I had a wife would not haue vsde me so.