Wilkins, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 534 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
But can they Love one another so soon? Oh, it is no matter now adays for love, 'tis well, and they can but make shift to lie together. But will your father do this too, if he know the gallant breaths himself at some two or three Bawdy houses in a morning. Oh the sooner, for that and the Land together, tell the old lad, he will know the better how to deal with his Daughter? The Wise and Ancient Fathers know this Rule, Should both wed Maids, the Child would be a Fool. Come Wag, if thou hast gone no further than into the Ordinary fashion, meet, see, and kiss, give over: Mary not a Wife to have a hundred plagues for one pleasure: let's to London, there's variety: and change of pasture makes fat Calves. But change of women bawld Knaves, Sir Knight. Wag and thou be'st a Lover but three days, thou wilt be heartless, Sleepless, witless, Mad, Wretched, Miserable, and indeed, a stark Fool. And by that, thou hast been married but three weeks, though thou shouldst wed a Cynthia rara avis, thou wouldest be a man monstrous: A Cuckold, a Cuckold. And why is a Cuckold monstrous, Knight? Why, because a man is made a Beast by being married? Take but example thyself from the Moon, as soon as she is delivered of her great belly, doth she not point at the world with a pair of horns, as who should say, married men, some of ye are Cuckolds. I construe more Divinely of their sex, Being Maids, methinks they are Angels: and being Wives, They are sovereigns: Cordials that preserve our Lives, They are like our hands that feed us, this is clear, They renew man, as spring renews the year. There's near a wanton Wench that hears thee, but thinks thee a Coxcomb for saying so: Marry none of them, if thou wilt have their true Characters, I'll give it thee,— Women are the Purgatory of men's Purses, the Paradise of their bodies, and the Hell of their minds; Marry none of them. Women are in Churches Saints, abroad Angels, at home Devils. Here are married men enough, know this: Marry none of them. Men that traduce by custom, show sharp wit Only in speaking Ill, and practise it: Against the best of Creatures, divine women Who are God's Agents here, and the Heavenly eye By which this Orb hath her Maturity; Beauty in women, get the world with Child, Without whom, she were barren, faint, and wild. They are the stems on which do Angels grow, From whence Virtue is stilled, and Arts do flow. Let them be what Flowers they will, and they were Roses, I will pluck none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, here comes a voider for us: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, there will be Cuckolds in it. Do you hear Child, here's one come to blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost take her at his hands, Though thou hadst Argus eyes, be sure of this, Women have sworn with more than one to kiss.
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)
But can they Loue one another so soone? Oh, it is no matter now adaies for loue, tis wel, and they can but make shift to lie together. But will your father doe this too, if hee know the gallant breaths himselfe at some two or three Bawdy houses in a morning. Oh the sooner, for that and the Land together, tell the olde ladde, he will know the better how to deale with his Daughter? The Wise and Auncient Fathers know this Rule, Should both wed Maids, the Child would be a Foole. Come Wag, if thou hast gone no further then into the Ordinarie fashion, meete, see, and kisse, giue ouer: Mary not a Wife to haue a hundred plagues for one pleasure: lets to London, theres variety: and change of pasture makes fat Calues. But change of women bawld Knaues, Sir Knight. Wag and thou beest a Louer but three dayes, thou wilt bee Hartles, Sleeplesse, witles, Mad, Wretched, Miserable, and indeed, a starke Foole. And by that, thou hast beene married but three weekes, tho thou shouldst wed a Cynthia rara avis, thou wouldest be a man monstrous: A Cuckold, a Cuckold. And why is a Cuckold monstrous, Knight? Why, because a man is made a Beast by being married? Take but example thy selfe from the Moone, as soone as shee is deliuered of her great belly, doth she not poynt at the world with a payre of hornes, as who should say, married men, some of ye are Cuckolds. I conster more Diuinely of their sex, Being Maids, methinkes they are Angels: and being Wiues, They are Souèraignes: Cordials that preserue our Liues, They are like our hands that feed vs, this is cleare, They renew man, as spring renewes the yeare. Theres nere a wanton Wench that heares thee, but thinkes thee a Coxcom for saying so: Marry none of them, if thou wilte haue their true Characters, Ile giue it thee,—Women are the Purgatory of mens Pursses, the Paradice of their bodies, and the Hel of their mindes; Marry none of them. Women are in Churches Saints, abroad Angels, at home Diuels. Here are married men inow, know this: Marry none of them. Men that traduce by custome, shew sharpe wit Onely in speaking Ill, and practise it: Against the best of Creatures, deuine women Who are Gods Agents heere, and the Heauenly eye By which this Orbe hath her Maturity; Beauty in women, get the world with Child, Without whom, she were barren, faint, and wilde. They are the stems on which do Angels grow, From whence Vertue is stild, and Arts do flow. Let them be what Flowers they will, and they were Roses, I will plucke none of them for pricking my fingers. But soft, heere comes a voider for vs: and I see, do what I can, as long as the world lasts, there wil be Cuckolds in it. Do you heare Childe, heeres one come to blend you together: he has brought you a kneading-tub, if thou dost take her at his hands, Tho thou hadst Argus eyes, be sure of this, Women haue sworne with more then one to kisse.