Dekker, Thomas / Chettle, Henry / Haughton, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1600 [Oct 16-Dec 29, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Our pardon and our love circle thee round, Let's all to banquet, mirth our cares confound. Hold, hold, hold, banquet? if you banquet so, Sir Owen is like to have sheer, her Latie here is cog a hoop now at this, pray Cousin keep your promise, Rees the wands Rees, your medicines and fine trigs to tame shrews. Furio where be the wands that I bound up? Here my Lord. I wreathed them then sir Owen, and you see They still continue so, wreath you these three. Owe wind them, yes is winde them and mag good mighty cudgel, to tame and knog her Latie, and she prawle, or cry, or give preade and meat to peggers, or tear ponds, by God is well remembered too, Cousin you promised to help her to her Duckegs, for all her paper and ponds is torn? And I will keep my promise, wreath your wands Owe God's lid mine is stubborn like Gwenthyan's, God's plude see it preakes in snipsnap pieces, what now Cousin? But cozen these you see did gently bow, I tried my Grissel's patience when 'twas green, Like a young Over, and I moulded it Like wax to all impressions: married men That long to tame their wives must curb them in, Before they need a bridle, than they'll prove All Grissel's full of patience, full of love, Yet that old trial must be tempered so, lest seeking to tame them they master you. By God is true as Pistol and Gospel, oh true out a cry. But you Sir Owen giving her the head, As you gave liberty to those three wands, she'll break as those do if you bend her now, And then you're passed all help, for if you strive, You'll gain as gamesters do that seldom thrive. What shall do to her Latie then? is pest run away cozen, or knog her brains out? for is as faliant as Mars if I be anger. That were a shame either to run away from a woman or to strike her, your best Physic Sir Owen, is to wear a velvet hand, leaden ears, and no tongue, you must not fight howsoever she quarrels, you must be deaf whensoever she brawls, and dumb when yourself should brabble: take this caudle next your heart every morning, and if your wife be not patient, the next remedy that I know is, to buy your winding sheet. cousin marquess, cozen Iulia, and Lawrds and Laties all, it shall not need as her cozen has tried Grissel, so Gwenthian has Sir Owen, Owe, by Cod is thought should pull her down, ah ha. Is not pulled down neither, but sir Owen shall be her head, and is sorry has anger her head and mag it ache, but pray good Knight be not proud & triumph too much & freade her Latie down, God udge me will tag her will again do what her can.
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)
Our pardon and our loue circle thee round, Lets all to banquet, mirth our cares confound. Holde, holde, holde, banquet? if you banquet so, Sir Owen is like to haue sheere, her Latie heere is cog a hoope now at this, pray Cozen keepe your promise, Rees the wandes Rees, your medicines and fine trigs to tame shrewes. Furio where be the wands that I bound vp? Heere my Lord. I wreath'd them then sir Owen, and you see They still continue so, wreath you these three. Owe winde them, yes is winde them and mag good mightie cudgell, to tame and knog her Latie, and she prawle, or crie, or giue preade and meate to peggers, or teare pondes, by God is well remembred too, Cozen you promis'd to helpe her to her Duckegs, for all her paper and pondes is torne? And I wil kéep my promise, wreath your wands Owe Gods lid mine is stubberne like Gwenthians, Gods plude see it preakes in snip snap péeces, what now Cozen? But cozen these you see did gently bowe, I tride my Grissils patience when twas greene, Like a young Ouer, and I moulded it Like waxe to all impressions: married men That long to tame their wiues must curbe them in, Before they néed a bridle, then they'll prooue All Grissils full of patience, full of loue, Yet that olde tryall must be tempered so, Least seeking to tame them they master you. By God is true as Pistle and Gospel, oh true out a cry. But you Sir Owen giuing her the head, As you gaue liberty to those three wandes, Shee'll breake as those doe if you bend her now, And then y'are past all helpe, for if you striue, You'll gaine as gamesters doe that sildome thriue. What shall doe to her Latie then? is pest run away cozen, or knog her braines out? for is as faliant as Mars if I be anger. That were a shame eyther to run away from a woman or to strike her, your best Phisicke Sir Owen, is to weare a veluet hand, leaden eares, and no tongue, you must not fight howsoeuer she quarrels, you must be deafe whensoeuer she brawles, and dumbe when your selfe should brabble: take this cawdle next your heart euery morning, and if your wife be not patient, the next remedy that I know is, to buy your winding sheete. Cozen Marquesse, cozen Iulia, and Lawrds and Laties all, it shall not need as her cozen has tryed Grissill, so Gwenthian has Sir Owen, Owe, by Cod is thought should pull her downe, ah ha. Is not pul'd downe neither, but sir Owen shal be her head, and is sorry has anger her head and mag it ake, but pray good Knight be not proude & triumph too much & freade her Latie downe, God vdge mee will tag her will againe doe what her can.