The Puritan, or The Widow of Watling Street (The Puritan Widow) · chunk 3 of 37
Middleton, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 514 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Dear Copy of my husband, oh let me kiss thee: How like him is their Model? their brief Picture Quickens my tears: my sorrows are renewed At their fresh sight? Sister— Away, All honesty with him is turned to clay, Oh my sweet husband, oh— My dear father? Here's a puling indeed! I think my Mother weeps for all the women that ever buried husbands: for if from time to time all the Widowers tears in England had been bottled up, I do not think all would have filled a three-half-penny Bottle; Alas a small matter bucks a handkercher,— and sometimes the spital stands to nigh Saint Thomas a Watrings; well, I can mourn in good sober sort as well as another? but where I spend one tear for a dead Father, I could give twenty kisses for a quick husband. Well, go thy ways old Sir Godfrey, and thou mayst be proud on't, thou hast a kind loving sister-in-law; how constant? how passionate? how full of April the poor soul's eyes are; well, I would my Brother knew on't, he should then know what a kind wife he had left behind him; truth and 'twere not for shame that the Neighbours at th' next garden should hear me, between joy and grief, I should e'en cry outright! So, a fair riddance, my father's laid in dust, his Coffin and he is like a whole-meat-pie, and the worms will cut him up shortly; farewell old Dad, farewell. I'll be curbed in no more, I perceive a son and heir may quickly be made a fool and he will be one, but I'll take another order;— Now she would have me weep for him forsooth, and why? because he cozened the right heir being a fool, and bestowed those Lands upon me his eldest Son; and therefore I must weep for him ha, ha; Why all the world knows as long as 'twas his pleasure to get me, 'twas his duty to get for me: I know the law in that point no Attorney can gull me; Well, my Uncle is an old Ass, and an admirable Coxcomb, I'll rule the Roast myself, I'll be kept under no more, I know what I may do well enough by my Father's Copy: the law's in mine own hands now: nay now I know my strength, I'll be strong enough for my Mother I warrant you? What's to be done now? old Lad of War; thou that wert wont to be as hot as a turnspit, as nimble as a fencer, & as lousy as a schoolmaster; now thou art put to silence like a Sectary?— war sits now like a justice of peace, and does nothing, where be your Muskets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at Pawn, at Pawn;— Now keys, are your only Guns, Key-guns, Key-guns, & Bawds the Gunners,— who are your sentinels in peace, and stand ready charged to give warning; with hems, hums, & pocky-coffs; only your Chambers are licenced to play upon you, and Drabs enough to give fire to 'em.
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)
Deare Copie of my husband, oh let me kisse thee: How like him is their Model? their briefe Picture Quickens my teares: my sorrowes are renew'd At their fresh sight? Sister— Away, All honesty with him is turn'd to clay, Oh my sweete husband, oh— My deere father? Heres a puling indeede! I thinke my Mother weepes for all the women that euer buried husbands: for if from time to time all the Widdowers teares in England had beene bottled vp, I do not thinke all would haue fild a three-halfe-penny Bottle; Alasse a small matter bucks a hand-kercher,—and somtimes the spittle stands to nie Saint Thomas a Watrings; well, I can mourne in good sober sort as well as another? but where I spend one teare for a dead Father, I could giue twenty kisses for a quick husband. Well, go thy waies old Sir Godfrey, and thou maist be proud on't, thou hast a kinde louing sister-in-lawe; how constant? how passionate? how ful of Aprill the poore soules eyes are; well, I would my Brother knew on't, he should then know what a kinde wife hee had left behinde him; truth and twere not for shame that the Neighbours at th next garden should heare me▪ betweene ioye and giefe, I should e'en cry out-right! So, a faire riddance, my fathers ayde in dust his Coffin and he is like a whole-meate-pye, and the wormes will cut him vp shortlie; farewell old Dad, farewe'l. Ile be curb'd in no more, I perceiue a some and heire may quickly be made a foole and he will be one, but Ile take another order;—Now she would haue me weepe for him for-sooth, and why? because he cozn'd the right heire beeing a foole, and bestow'd those Lands vpon me his eldest Son; and therefore I must weepe for him ha, ha; Why al the world knowes as long as twas his pleasure to get me, twas his duety to get for me: I know the law in that point no Atturney can gull me; Well, my Vncle an olde Asse, and an Cockscombe, Ile rule the Roast my selfe, Ile be kept vnder o more, I know what I may do well inough by my Fathers Copy: the Lawe's in mine owne hands now: nay now I know my strength, Ile be strong inough for my Mother I warrant you? What's to be done now? old Lad of War; thou that wet wont to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a fencer, & as lowzy as a schoole-maister; now thou art put to silence like a Sectarie? —War sitts now like a Iustice of peace, and does nothing, where be your Muskets, Caleiuers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at Pawne, at Pawne;—Now keies, are your onely Guns, Key-guns, Key-guns, & Bawdes the Gunners,—who are your centinells in peace, and stand ready charg'd to giue warning; with hems, hums, & pockey-coffs; only your Chambers are licenc'st to play vpon you, and Drabs enow to giue fire to 'em.