Dekker, Thomas / Webster, John · published 1607 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
A small fault: most of my scholars do so: look you sir, do not you think your wife will mend: mark her dashes, & her strokes, and her breakings, and her bendings? She knows what I have promised her if she do mend: say by my fay Jude, this is well, if you would not fly out thus, but keep your line. I shall in time when my hand is in: have you a new pen for me Master, for by my truly, my old one is stark nought, and will cast no ink: whether are you going lamb? To the Customhouse: to the Change, to my Warehouse, to divers places. Good Coal tarry not past eleven, for you turn my stomach then from my dinner. I will make more haste home, than a Stipendiary Swisser does after he's paid, fare you well Master Parenthesis. I am so troubled with the rheum too: Mouse what's good for't? How often have I told you, you must get a patch. I must hence. I think when als done I must follow his counsel, and take a patch, I have had one long ere this, but for disfiguring my face: yet I had noted that a mastic patch upon some women's Temples, hath been the very rheum of beauty. Is he departed? Is old Nestor marched into Troy? Yes you mad Greek: the Gentleman's gone. Why then clap up copy-books: down with pens, hang up inkhorns, and now my sweet Honisuckle, see what golden-winged Bee from Hybla, flies humming, with Crura thymo plena, which he will empty in the Hive of your bosom. From whom. At the skirt of that sheet in black work is wrought his name, break not up the wildfowl, till anon, and then feed upon him in private: there's other irons i'th' fire: more sacks are coming to the Mill, O you sweet temptations of the sons of Adam, I commend you, extol you, magnify you: Were I a Poet by Hipocrene I swear, (which was a certain Well where all the Muses watered) and by Parnassus eke I swear, I would rhyme you to death with praises, for that you can be content to lie with old men all night for their money, and walk to your gardens with young men i'th' day time for your pleasure: Oh you delicate damnations: you do but as I would do: were I the properest, sweetest, plumpest, Cherry-cheeked, coral-lipped woman in a kingdom, I would not dance after one man's pipe. And why? Especially after an old man's. And why, pray! Especially after an old Citizens. Still, and why. Marry because the Suburbs, and those without the bars, have more privilege than they within the freedom: what need one woman do ate upon one Man? Or one man be mad like Orlando for one woman. Troth 'tis true, considering how much flesh is in every Shambles.
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)
A small fault: most of my schollers do so: looke you sir, do not you thinke your wife will mend: marke her dashes, & her strokes, and her breakings, and her bendings? She knowes what I haue promist her if shee doe mende: ay by my fay Iude, this is well, if you would not flie out thus, but keepe your line. I shal in time when my hand is in: haue you a new pen for mee Maister, for by my truly, my old one is stark naught, and wil cast no inck: whether are you going lamb? To the Custome-house: to the Change, to my VVarehouse, to diuers places. Good Cole tarry not past eleuen, for you turne my stomak then from my dinner. I wil make more hast home, then a Stipendary Swizzer does after hees paid, fare you well Maister Parenthesis. I am so troubled with the rheume too: Mouse whats good fort? How often haue I tolde you, you must get a patch. I must hence. I thinke when als done I must follow his counsell, and take a patch, I haue had one long ere this, but for disfiguring my face: yet I had noted that a masticke patch vpon some womens Temples, hath bin the very rhewme of beauty. Is he departed? Is old Nestor marcht into Troy? Yes you mad Greeke: the Gentlemans gone. Why then clap vp coppy-bookes: downe with pens, hang vp inckhornes, and nowe my sweete Honisuckle, see what goldenwinged Bee from Hybla, flies humming, with Crura thymo plena, which he wil empty in the Hiue of your bosome. From whom. At the skirte of that sheete in blacke worke is wrought hys name, breake not vp the wildfoule, till anon, and then feed vpon him in priuate: theres other irons i'th fire: more sackes are comming to the Mill, O you sweet temptations of the sonnes of Adam, I commende you, extol you, magnifie you: Were I a Poet by Hipocrene I sweare, (which was a certaine VVell where all the Muses watred) and by Pernassus eke I sweare, I would ime you to death with praises, for that you can bee content to lye with olde men all night for their mony, and walk to your gardens with yong men i'th day time for your pleasure: Oh you delicat damnations: you do but as I wud do: were I the proprest, sweetest, plumpest, Cherry-cheekt, Corrall-lipt woman in a kingdome, I would not daunce after one mans pipe. And why? Especially after an old mans. And why, pray! Especially after an old Cittizens. Still, and why. Marry because the Suburbes, and those without the bars, haue more priuiledge then they within the freedome: what need one woman do ate vpon one Man? Or one man be mad like Orlando for one woman. Troth tis true, considering how much flesh is in euery Shambles.