Chapman, George / Jonson, Ben / Marston, John · published 1605 · first performed or written 1605 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Why Mother, I ha' not yet. Alas, good Mother, be not intoxicate for me, I am well enough. I would not change husbands with my Sister, I. The leg of a Lark is better than the body of a kite. I know that. But— What sweet Mother, What? It's but ill food, when nothing's left but the Claw. That's true Mother; ay me. Nay, sweet Ladybird, sigh not. Child, madam. Why do you weep thus? Be of good cheer. I shall die, if you cry, and mar your complexion, thus? Alas Mother, what should I do, Go to thy Sister's Child, she'll be proud, thy Ladyship will come under her roof. she'll win thy Father to release thy Knight, and redeem thy Gowns, and thy Coach, and thy Horses, and set thee up again. But will she get him to set my Knight up, too? That she will, or any thing else thou'lt ask her. I will begin to love her, if I thought she would do this. Try her good Chuck, I warrant thee. Dost thou think she'll do't? I madam, and be glad you will receive it. That's a good Maiden, she tells you true. Come, I'll take order for your debts i the Alehouse. Go, Sin, and pray for thy Frank, as I will, for my Pet. I will receive no Letters, M Woolf, you shall pardon me. Good Father let me entreat you. Son Goulding, I will not be tempted, I find mine own easy nature, and I know not what a well-penned subtle Letter may work upon it: There may be Tricks, Packing, do you see? Return with your Packet, Sir. Believe it Sir, you need fear no packing here. These are but Letters of Submission, all. Sir, I do look for no Submission. I will bear myself in this like Blind justice, Work upon that now. When the Sessions come, they shall hear from me. From whom come your Letters, M. Wolf? an't please you Sir. One from Sir Petronel. Another from Francis quicksilver. And a third, from old Security, who is almost mad in Prison. There are two, to your worship: One from M. Francis, Sir. Another from the Knight. I do wonder, M. Wolf, why you should travail thus, in a business so contrary to kind, or the nature o'your Place! that you being the Keeper of a Prison, should labour the release of your Prisoners! Whereas methinks, it were far more Natural, & Kindly in you, to be ranging about for more, & not let these scape you have already under the Tooth. But they say, you Wolves, when you ha' sucked the blood once, that they are dry, you ha' done. Sir, your Worship may descant as you please o'my name, but I protest, I was never so mortified with any men's discourse, or behaviour in Prison; yet I have had of all sorts of men i'the Kingdom, under my Keys, & almost of all Religions i'the land, as Papist, Protestant, Puritane, Brownist, Anabaptist, Millenary, Family o' Love, Jew, Turk, Infidel, Atheist, Good Fellow, etc.
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)
Why Mother, I ha not yet. Alas, good Mother, bee not intoxicate for mee, I am well inough. I would not change huſbands with my Siſter, I. The legge of a Larke is better then the body of a Kight. I know that. But— What ſweete Mother, What? It's but ill food, when nothing's left but the Claw. That's true Mother; Aye me. Nay, ſweete Lady-bird, ſigh not. Child, Madame. Why doe you weepe thus? Bee of good cheere. I ſhall die, if you crye, and marre your complexion, thus? Alas Mother, what ſhould I doe, Goe to thy Siſter's Childe, Shee'le be proude, thy Lady-ſhip will come vnder her roofe. Shee'le winne thy Father to releaſe thy Knight, and redeeme thy Gownes, and thy Coach, and thy Horſes, and ſet thee vp againe. But will ſhee get him to ſet my Knight vp, too? That ſhee will, or any thing elſe thou'it aske her. I will begin to loue her, if I thought ſhe would doe this. Try her good Chucke, I warrant thee. Dooſt thou thinke ſhee'le doo't? I Madame, and be glad you will receiue it. That's a good Mayden, ſhee tells you trew. Come, Ile take order for your debts i the Ale-houſe. Goe, Syn, and pray for thy Franck, as I will, for my Pet. I will receiue no Letters, M Woolf, you ſhal pardon me. Good Father let me entreat you. Sonne Goulding, I will not be tempted, I finde mine owne eaſie nature, and I know not what a well-pend ſubtile Letter may worke vpon it: There may be Tricks, Packing, doe you ſee? Returne with your Packet, Sir. Beleeue it Sir, you need feare no packing here. Theſe are but Letters of Submiſſion, all. Sir, I doe looke for no Submiſſion. I will beare my ſelfe in this like Blinde Iustice, Worke vpon that now. When the Seſſions come, they ſhall heare from me. From whom come your Letters, M. Woolfe? And't pleaſe you Sir. One from Sir Petronell. Another from Francis Quickeſiluer. And a third, from old Securitie, who is almoſt madde in Priſon. There are two, to your worſhip: One from M. Francis, Sir. Another from the Knight. I doe wonder, M. Woolfe, why you ſhould trauaile thus, in a buſineſſe ſo contrarie to kinde, or the nature o'your Place! that you beeing the Keeper of a Priſon, ſhould labour the releaſe of your Priſoners! Whereas mee thinkes, it were farre more Naturall, & Kindely in you, to be ranging about for more, & not let theſe ſcape you haue alreadie vnder the Tooth. But they ſay, you Wolues, when you ha' ſuck't the blood once, that they are drie, you ha' done. Sir, your Worſhip may deſcant as you pleaſe o'my name, but I proteſt, I was neuer ſo mortified with any mens diſcourſe, or behauiour in Priſon; yet I haue had of all ſorts of men i'the Kingdome, vnder my Keyes, & almoſt of all Religions i'the land, as Papiſt, Proteſtant, Paritane, Browniſt, Anabaptiſt, Millenary, Famly o'Loue, Iewe, Turke, Infidell, Atheiſt, Good Fellow, &c.