Wilkins, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
If ever man in swearing love, swore true, My words are like to his: Here comes your father. Now master Scarborrow. Prepared to ask how you like that we have done, your daughters made my wife, and I your son. And both agreed so. We are Sir, Then long may you live together, have store of sons. 'tis no matter who is the father. But son here is a man of yours is come from London. And brought you Letters Sir. What news from London Butler. The old news Sir, the Ordinaries are full, some Citizens are bankrupts, and many Gentlemen beggars. Clare here is an unwelcome Pursuivant, My Lord and Guardian writes to me with speed, I must return to London. And you being Ward to him son Scarborrow, And know him great, it fits that you obey him. It does it does, for by an ancient law, We are borne free heirs, but kept like slaves in awe, Who are for London Gallants? Switch and Spur we will bear you company. Clare I must leave thee, with what unwillingness Witness this dwelling kiss upon thy lip, And though I must be absent from thine eye, Be sure my heart doth in thy bosom lie, Three years I am yet a ward, which time I'll pass, Making thy faith my constant looking-glass, Till when. Till when you please, where ere you live or lie, Your loves here worn, your presence in my eye. Sir William, How old say you is your kinsman Scarborrow. eighteen my Lord, next Pentecost. Bethink you good Sir William, I reckon thereabout myself, so by that account There's full three Winters yet he must attend, Under our awe, before he sue his Livery: Is't not so? Not a day less my Lord. Sir William you are his Uncle, and I must speak That am his Guardian, would I had a son Might merit commendations even with him. I'll tell you what he is, he is a youth, A Noble branch, increasing blessed fruit. Where Caterpillar vice dare not to touch, He is himself with so much gravity, Praise cannot praise him with Hyperbole: He is one whom older look upon, as one a book, Wherein are Printed Noble sentences For them to rule their lives by. Indeed he is one All Emulate his virtues, hate him none. His friends are proud, to hear this good of him. And yet Sir William being as he is, Young, and unsettled, tho of virtuous thoughts, By Genuine disposition, yet our eyes See daily precedents, hopeful Gentlemen, Being trusted in the world with their own will, Divert the good is looked from them to Ill, Make their old names forgot, or not worth note With company they keep, such reveling With Panders, Parasites, Podigies of Knaves, That they sell all, even their old father's graves. Which to prevent, we'll match him to a wife, Marriage Restrains the scope of single life.
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)
If euer man in swearing loue, swore true, My words are like to his: Heere comes your father. Now maister Scarborrow. Prepar'd to aske how you like that we haue done, your daughters made my wife, and I your sonne. And both agreed so. We are Sir, Then long may you liue together, haue store of sons. Tis no matter who is the father. But sonne here is a man of yours is come from London. And brought you Letters Sir. What newes from London Butler. The old newes Sir, the Ordinaries are full, some Cittizens are bankerouts, and many Gentlemen beggers. Clare here is an vnwelcome Pursiuant, My Lord and Guardian writes to me with speed, I must returne to London. And you being Ward to him son Scarborrow, And know him great, it fits that you obay him. It dus it dus, for by an antient law, We are borne free heires, but kept like slaues in awe, Who are for London Gallants? Switch and Spurre we wil beare you company. Clare I must leaue thee, with what vnwillingnes Witnes this dwelling kisse vpon thy lip, And tho I must be absent from thine eye, Be sure my hart doth in thy bosome lie, Three yeares I am yet a ward, which time Ile passe, Making thy faith my constant Looking-glasse, Till when. Till when you please, where ere you liue or lie, Your loues here worne, your presence in my eie. Sir William, How old say you is your kinsman Scarborrow. Eighteene my Lord, next Pentecost. Bethinke you good Sir William, I reckon thereabout my selfe, so by that account Theres full three Winters yet he must attend, Vnder our awe, before he sue his Liuery: Ist not so? Not a daie lesse my Lord. Sir William you are his Vnckle, and I must speake That am his Guardian, would I had a son Might merit commendations euen with him. Ile tetl you what he is, he is a youth, A Noble branch, increasing blessed fruit. Where Caterpiller vice dare not to touch, He is himselfe with so much grauity, Praise cannot praise him with Hypperbole: He is one whom older looke vpon, as one a booke, Wherein are Printed Noble sentences For them to rule their liues by. Indeed he is one All Emulate his vertues, hate him none. His friends are proud, to heare this good of him. And yet Sir William being as he is, Young, and vnsetled, tho of virtuous thoughts, By Genuine disposition, yet our eyes See daily presidents, hopefull Gentlemen, Being trusted in the world with their owne will, Diuert the good is lookt from them to Ill, Make their old names forgot, or not worth note With company they keepe, such Reuelling With Panders, Parasites, Podigies of Knaues, That they sell all, euen their old fathers graues. VVhich to preuent, weele match him to a wife, Marriage Restraines the scope of single life.