Dekker, Thomas / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1605 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
God's light she's there then, will you know the jest, my wife hath her old tricks, I'll hold my life, my wife's in your chamber, rise out of your bed, and see and you can feel her. He will feel her I warrant you? Have you her sir? Not yet sir, she's here sir. So I said even now to myself before God la: take her up in your arms, and bring her hither softly, for fear of waking her: I never knew the like of this before God la, alas poor Kate, look before God; she's asleep with her eyes open: pretty little rogue, I'll wake her, and make her ashamed of it. O you'll make her sicker then. I warrant you; would all women thought no more hurt than thou dost, now sweet villain, Kate, Kate. I longed for the merry thought of a pheasant. She talks in her sleep. And the foul-gutted tripewife had got it, & eat half of it: and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled: till I was ready to sound, but a Midwife perceived it, and marked which way my eyes went; and helped me to it, but Lord how I picked it, 'twas the sweetest meat methought. O politic Mistress. Why Kate, Kate? Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your heart, Lord where am I? I pray thee be not frighted. O I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, O how my flesh trembles: oh some of the Angelica water, I shall have the Mother presently. Hold down her stomach good master Fetherstone, while I fetch some. Well dissembled Kate. Pish, I am like some of your Ladies that can be sick when they have no stomach to lie with their husbands. What mischievous fortune is this: we'll have a journey to Ware Kate, to redeem this misfortune. Well, Cheaters do not win all ways: that woman that will entertain a friend, must as well provide a Closet or back-door for him, as a Featherbed. Be my troth I pity thy husband. Pity him, no man dares call him Cuckold; for he wears Satin: pity him, he that will pull down a man's sign, and set up horns, there's law for him. Be sick again, your husband comes. I have the worst luck; I think I get more bumps and shrewd turns i'th' dark, how does she master Fetherstone. Very ill sir; she's troubled with the mother extremely, I held down her belly even now, and I might feel it rise. O lay me in my bed, I beseech you. I will find a remedy for this walking, if all the Doctors in town can sell it; a thousand pound to a penny she spoil not her face, or break her neck, or catch a cold that she may near claw off again, how dost wench? A little recovered; alas I have so troubled that Gentleman.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T28 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Gods light shee's there then, will you know the iest, my wife hath her old tricks, Ile hold my life, my wife's in your chamber, rise out of your bed, and see and you can feele her. He will feele her warrant you? Haue you her sir? ot yet sir, shees here sir. So I said euen now to my selfe before God la: take her vp in your armes, and bring her hether softly, for feare of waking her: I neuer knew the like of this before God la, alas poore Kate, looke before God; shees a sleepe with her eyes open: prittie little roague, Ile wake her, and make her ashamd of it. O youle make her sicker then. I warrant you; would all women thought no more hurt then thou doost, now sweet villaine, Kate, Kate. I longd for the merry thought of a phesant. She talkes in her sleepe. And the foule-gutted Tripe-wife had got it, & eate halfe of it: and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled: till I was ready to sound, but a Mid-wife perceiued it, and markt which way my eyes went; and helpt mee to it, but Lord how I pickt it, 'twas the sweetest meate me thought. O pollitick Mistrisse. Why Kate, Kate? Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your hart, Lord where am I? I pray thee be not frighted. O I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, O how my flesh trembles: oh some of the Angelica water, I shal haue the Mother presently. Hold downe her stomach good maister Fetherstone, while I fetch some. Well dissembled Kate. Pish, I am like some of your Ladies that can be sick when they haue no stomack to lie with their husbands. What mischiuous fortune is this: weel haue a iourney to Ware Kate, to redeeme this misfortune. Well, Cheaters do not win all wayes: that woman that will entertaine a friend, must as well prouide a Closet or Back-doore for him, as a Fether-bed. Be my troth I pitty thy husbnd. Pitty him, no man dares call him Cuckold; for he weares Sattin: pitty him, he that will pull downe a mans signe, and set vp hornes, there's law for him. Be sick againe, your husband comes. I haue the worst luck; I thinke I get more bumps and shrewd turnes ith' darke, how do's she maister Fetherstone. Very ill sir; shees troubled with the moother extreamly, I held downe her belly euen now, and I might feele it rise▪ O lay me in my bed, I beseech you. I will finde a remedy for this walking, if all the Docters in towne can sell it; a thousand pound to a penny she spoile not her face, or breake her neck, or catch a cold that shee may nere claw off againe, how doost wench? A little recouerd; alas I haue so troubled that Gentlemā.