Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin typicality 0.76 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Sir, I am sworn, I may not show the will, Till he be dead: But, here has been CORBACCIO, Here has been VOLTORE, here were others too, I cannot number 'em, they were so many, All gaping here for legacies; but I, Taking the vantage of his naming you, (signor CORVINO, signor CORVINO) took Paper, and pen, and ink, and there I asked him, Whom he would have his heir? CORVINO. Who Should be executor? CORVINO. And, To any question, he was silent too, I still interpreted the nods, he made (Through weakness) for consent: and sent home th'others, Nothing bequeathed them, but to cry, and curse. O, my dear MOSCA. does he not perceive us? No more than a blind harper. He knows no man, No face of friend, nor name of any servant, who't was that fed him last, or gave him drink: Not those, he hath begotten, or brought up Can he remember. Has he children? Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggars, Gipseys, and Jews, and blackmoors, when he was drunk. Knew you not that, sir? 'Tis the common fable. The Dwarf, the Fool, the Eunuch are all his; he's the true father of his family, In all, save me: but he has given 'em nothing. That's well, that's well. Art sure he does not hear us? Sure, sir? why, look you, credit your own sense. The pox approach, and add to your diseases, If it would send you hence the sooner, sir. For, your incontinence, it hath deserved it Thoroughly, and thoroughly, and the plague to boot. (You may come near, sir) would you would once close Those filthy eyes of yours, that slow with slime, Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks, Covered with hide, in stead of skin: (nay, help, sir) That look like frozen dishclouts, set on end. Or, like an old smoked wall, on which the rain Ran down in streaks. Excellent, sir, speak out; You may be louder yet: a culvering, Discharged in his ear, would hardly bore it. His nose is like a common sewer, still running. 'Tis good! and, what his mouth? A very draft. O, stop it up— By no means. Pray you let me. Faith, I could stifle him, rarely, with a pillow, As well, as any woman, that should keep him. Do as you will, but I'll be gone. Be so; It is your presence makes him last so long. I pray you, use no violence. No, sir? why? Why should you be thus scrupulous? pray you, sir. Nay, at your discretion. Well, good sir, be gone. I will not trouble him now, to take my pearl? Puh, nor your diamant. What a needless care Is this afflicts you? Is not all, here, yours? Am not I here? whom you have made? your creature? That owe my being to you? Grateful MOSCA! Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes. Excepting one. What's that?
seed 43: T52 · seed 44: T52 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sir, I am sworne, I may not shew the will, Till he be dead: But, here has beene CORBACCIO, Here has beene VOLTORE, here were others too, I cannot number 'hem, they were so many, All gaping here for legacies; but I, Taking the vantage of his naming you, (Signior CORVINO, Signior CORVINO) tooke Paper, and pen, and inke, and there I ask'd him, Whom he would haue his heire? CORVINO. Who Should be executor? CORVINO. And, To any question, he was silent too, I still interpreted the nods, he made (Through weakenesse) for consent: and sent home th'others, Nothing bequeath'd them, but to crie, and curse. O, my deare MOSCA. Do's he not perceiue vs? No more then a blind harper. He knowes no man, No face of friend, nor name of any seruant, Who't was that fed him last, or gaue him drinke: Not those, he hath begotten, or brought vp Can he remember. Has he children? Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggers, Gipseys, and Iewes, and black-moores, when he was drunke. Knew you not that, sir? 'Tis the common fable. The Dwarfe, the Foole, the Eunuch are all his; H'is the true father of his family, In all, saue me: but he has giu'n 'hem nothing. That's well, that's well. Art sure he does not heare vs? Sure, sir? why, looke you, credit your owne sense. The poxe approch, and adde to your diseases, If it would send you hence the sooner, sir. For, your incontinence, it hath deseru'd it Throughly, and throughly, and the plague to boot. (You may come neere, sir) would you would once close Those filthy eyes of yours, that slow with slime, Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks, Couer'd with hide, in stead of skin: (nay, helpe, sir) That looke like frozen dish-clouts, set on end. Or, like an old smok'd wall, on which the raine Ran downe in streakes. Excellent, sir, speake out; You may be lowder yet: a culuering, Discharged in his eare, would hardly bore it. His nose is like a common sewre, still running. 'Tis good! and, what his mouth? A very draught. O, stop it vp— By no meanes. 'Pray you let me. Faith, I could stifle him, rarely, with a pillow, As well, as any woman, that should keepe him. Doe as you will, but I'le be gone. Be so; It is your presence makes him last so long. I pray you, vse no violence. No, sir? why? Why should you be thus scrupulous? pray you, sir. Nay, at your discretion. Well, good sir, be gone. I will not trouble him now, to take my pearle? Puh, nor your diamant. What a needlesse care Is this afflicts you? Is not all, here, yours? Am not I here? whom you haue made? your creature? That owe my being to you? Gratefull MOSCA! Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes. Excepting one. What's that?