Sharpham, Edward · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 458 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
'tis false. True, false, thou hast been false indeed, abused my bed, infected even my very blood, and made it grow to hard impostumes on my brows: hast thou not wanton, changed naked embracements with strangers? abused thy nuptial vow? hath not thy unsatiate womb, brought forth the bastardy of lust to call me father? but i'll abandon thee, disclaim that, and hate ye both. doye hear me sir, upon my conscience you do wrong your Lady. If I wrong her, you'll do her right, I bear a blow of yours, the which I never felt, you are like a man's tailor that works with open shop for the Husband, but if you chance to do any thing for the wife, you must do it inwards, inwards! you are a good workman, I must needs say't: you have fitted my wives body, how sa'y wife, has 'a not? Not, but you can even in my sight cast amorous glances on others: you have forsook my bed, abhorred my presence, and like a man past grace and shame, strut like a pimp before a wanton feather waging minks at high noon: beside, did not I find thee kissing of thy Maid? Did not I find thee in private conference with my horsegroom? Didst thou not offer thy maid a new gown, for a night's lodging? Didst not thou give a Diamond to the Butler? Didst not thou send a bowed Angel to thy Laundress Daughter? No 'tis false. Yes, 'tis true, and then when I told thee on't, thou sworest 'twas out of charity, because the Wench was poor, her Father an honest man, and her Mother a painful woman: for these and these causes you were kind unto the Daughter, great whilst I was contented to believe, because I was unwilling, like a faint hearted Soldier to look of mine own wounds, until I saw thou daily woundst my love anew, and slew'st thine one reputation. Art mad? No, but a little jealous like you, I will no longer maintain thy, sanguine sin, sooth lust with patience, nor in broken singing language flatter thy folly, as sweet heart do not wander: for I do love thee dear as doth a Goose her Gander: a Goose indeed for if aught but a Goose, I should a sought revenge for wrongs. What art drunk? No, for I have sufficient reason, too much knowledge, and sense enough to feel my wrongs: why should we women be slaves to your imperfections? have we not souls of one metal, are we not as free borne as you? are we not all Adam's Offspring? did not you fall as well with him as we, and shall we be still kept down and you rise?
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)
Tis false. True, false, thou hast beene false indeed, abusd my bed, infected euen my verrie blood, and made it growe to hard impostumes on my browes: hast thou not wantonly, chang'd naked imbracements with strangers? abus'd thy nuptial vowe? hath notthy vnsatiate womb, brought forth the bastardie of lust to call me father? but ile abandon thee, disclaime that, and hate ye both. Do'y heare me sir, vpon my conscience you doe wrong your Ladie. If I wrong her, youle doe her right, I beare a blow of yours, the which I neuer felt, you are like a mans Taylor that workes with open shop for the Husband, but if you chance to doe any thing for the wife, you must doe it inwards, inwards! you are a good workeman, I must needes say't: you haue fitted my wiues body, how sa'y wife, has anot? Not, but you can euen in my sight cast amorous glances on others: you haue forsook my bed, abhorred my presence▪ and like a man past grace and shame, strout like a pimpe before a wanton feather waging minkes at hie noone: besides, did not I finde thee kissing of thy Maide? Did not I finde thee in priuate conference with my horsegroome? Didst thou not offer thy maide a new gowne, for a nights lodging? Didst not thou giue a Diamond to the Butler? Didst not thou send a bow'd Angel to thy Landressse Daughter? No tis false. Yes, tis true, and then when I told thee on't, thou swarest twas out of charitie, because the Wench was poore, her Father a honest man, and her Mother a painful woman: for these and these causes you were kinde vnto the Daughter, great whil'st I was contented to beleue, because I was vnwilling, like a faint harted Soldier to looke of myne owne wounds, vntill I saw thou daylie woundst my loue a new, and slew'st thine one reputation. Art mad? No, but a little Iealious like you, I will no longer mantaine thy, sanguine sin, sooth lust with patience, nor in broken singing language flatter thy folly, as sweet hart do not wāder: for I doe loue thee deare as doth a Goose her Gander: a Goose indeed for if ought but a Goose, I should a sought reuenge for wronges. What art drunke? No, for I haue sufficiēt reason, too much knowledge, and sence enough to feele my wronges: why should wee women bee slaues to your imperfections? haue wee not soules of one mettall, are we not as free borne as you? are we not all Adams Of-spring? did not you fall as well with him as wee, and shall wee bee still kept downe and you rise?