The Miseries of Enforced Marriage · chunk 38 of 47
Wilkins, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Out of my sight, I and out of my doors, for now, what's within this house is mine, and for your brother He made this match, in hope to do you good, And I wear this for which, shall draw his blood. A brave resolution. In which we'll second thee. Away, whore, Out of my doors whore. O grief, that poverty should ha' that power to tear: Men from themselves, though they wed, bed, and swear. How now sister. Undone, undone. Why Mistress, how is't? how is't? My husband has forsook me. O perjury. Has ta'en my jewels, and my Bracelets from me. Vengeance, I played the thief for the money that bought 'em. Left me distressed, and thirst me forth a doors. Damnation on him, I will here no more, But for his wrong revenge me on my brother, Degenerate, and was the cause of all, He spent our portion, and I'll see his fall. O but Brother. Persuade me not. All hopes are shipwreck, misery comes on, The comfort we did look from him is frustrate, All means, all maintenance, but grief is gone. And all shall end by his destruction. I'll follow and prevent, what in this heat may happen, His want makes sharp his sword, to great the ill, If that one brother should another kill. And what will you do Mistress? I'll sit me down, sigh loud in stead of words, And wound myself with grief as they with swords. And for the sustenance that I should eat, I'll feed on grief, 'tis woes best relished meat. Good heart I pity you, You shall not be so cruel to yourself, I have the poor servingman's allowance, twelve pence a day to buy me sustenance, One meal aday I'll eat, the tother fast, To give your wants relief. And Mistress Be this some comfort to your miseries, I'll ha' thin cheeks, ere you shall ha' wet eyes. What is prodigality? Faith like a Brush That wears himself to flourish others clothes, And having worn his heart even to the stump, he's thrown away like a deformed lump. Oh such am I, I ha' spent all the wealth My ancestors did purchase, made others brave In shape and riches, and myself a knave. For though my wealth raised some to paint their door, 'tis shut against me, saying I am but poor: Nay, even the greatest arm, whose hand hath graced, My presence to the eye of Majesty, shrinks back, His fingers clutch, and like to lead, They are heavy to raise up my state, being dead. By which I find, spendthrifts, and such am I, Like strumpets flourish, but are foul within, And they like Snakes, know when to cast their skin. Turn, draw, and die, I come to kill thee. What's he that speaks? Like sickness: Oh is't you, Sleep still, you cannot move me, fare you well. Think not my fury slakes so, or my blood Can cool itself to temper by refusal, Turn or thou diest. Away.
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)
Out of my sight, I and out of my doores, for now, whats within this house is mine, and for your brother He made this match, in hope to do you good, And I weare this for which, shall draw his bloud. A braue resolution. In which wele second thee. Away, whore, Out of my doores whore. O greefe, that pouerty should ha that power to tear: Men from themselues, tho they wed, bed, and sweare. How now sister. Vndone, vndone. Why Mistris, how ist? how ist? My husband has forsooke me. O periury. Has taine my Iewels, and my Bracelets from me. Vengeance, I played the theefe for the mony that bought em. Left me distrest, and thurst mee forth a doores. Damnation on him, I will heere no more, But for his wrong reuenge me on my brother, Degenerate, and was the cause of all, He spent our portion, and Ile see his fall. O but Brother. Perswade me not. All hopes are shipwract, miserie comes on, The comfort we did looke from him is frustrate, All meanes, all maintenance, but griefe is gone. And all shall end by his destruction. Ile follow and preuent, what in this heat may happen, His want makes sharpe his sword, to greates the ill, If that one brother should another kill. And what will you do Mistris? Ile sit me downe, sigh loude in stead of wordes, And wound my selfe with griefe as they with swords. And for the sustenance that I should eate, Ile feed on griefe, tis woes best rellisht meate. Good hart I pitty you, You shall not be so cruell to your selfe, I haue the poore Seruingmans allowance, Twelue pence adaye to buy me sustenance, One meale aday Ile eate, the tothet fast, To giue your wantes reliefe. And Mistris Be this some comfort to your miseries, Ile ha thin cheekes, eare you shall ha wet eyes. What is prodigallity? Faith like a Brush That weares himselfe to florish others cloathes, And hauing worne his hart euen to the stump, Hees throwne away like a deformed lump. Oh such am I, I ha spent all the wealth My ancestors did purchase, made others braue In shape and riches, and my selfe a knaue. For tho my wealth raisd some to paint their doore, Tis shut against me, saying I am but poore: Nay, euen the greatest arme, whose hand hath grast, My presence to the eye of Maiesty, shrinkes back, His fingers cluch, and like to lead, They are heauy to raise vp my state, being dead. By which I find, spend thriftes, and such am I, Like strumpets florish, but are foule within, And they like Snakes, know when to cast their skin. Turne, draw, and dye, I come to kill thee. Whats he that speakes? Like sicknesse: Oh ist you, Sleepe still, you cannot mooue me, fare you well. Thinke not my fury slakes so, or my bloud Can coole it selfe to temper by refusall, Turne or thou dyest. Away.