Day, John · published 1608 · first performed or written 1604 [1604-1607] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
That maid's my sister, whom on magic's wing, To this fair presence, my rich Art shall bring, Prepare to meet them, for this minute's age, sends with my charm their airy pilgrimage. Where are are we now? how strangely were we borne Upon the pinions of the fleeting air, And where dismounted? unto what great Prince Christian or Pagan longs this mansion. Are we in any sociable place? Or in the Cell of some Magician, Who by his skill in hellish exorcisms, Made us his thrall? I can forbear no longer, Welcome thrice welcome. Welcome? Whence? To whom? to me. Thy father. and thy friends. do not beguile us, O Demetrio? We are betrayed, see the Magtiian, That by his cunning and strong working charms, Brought us unknown. to thy fathers armes, Welcome Emilia, with this ivory chain, I sphere my hopes and in thy bosom rain, These tears of comfort, then embrace thy friends. Thy Brother's Art all further difference ends. Your City. Genoa. And your reverend name. Ferneze. Father. Yes the very same, I do remember when she went to nurse, What a cursed vixen 'twas s, but now she's grown. Not past all goodness, yet I hope sir: but i'faith Brother was't you that brought us from Turkey a cockhorse? and your Genoan hackney be so quick paced you shall have more of our Custom. Lay by discourse, what Gentleman is that comes uninvited to our feast of joy. Pray welcome him father, he's a Genoan merchant, that with much suit ransomed me from the Turk. My hopes redeemer welcome, but proceed Unto the doubtful fortunes of my child: 'twas told me she was stolen from Monta sancta. You help my memory, thence she was stolen, And for her beauty, chosen Concubine To the lascivious Turk, but by much suit, And meditation of some special friends, I bought her freedom with a thousand marks. Which we'll repay with ample interest, Once more we'll bid you welcome, and to set A smother gloss upon our merriment, There's a quick Wench that only lives by wit, Who understanding I had lost my Daughter, Borrowed thy habit, and Usurps thy name, One call her in, now Daughter make thee sit, To combat and dismount her active wit. A perilous Girl, her wits a mere Snaphance, goes with a fire lock, she strikes fire from stones, She knows the Law too, a mere murdering piece, Fight low, lock close, she speaks mere, lightning Niece. How now father, have you put on your considering Cap, and bethought you? or shall I proceed and traverse my writ of errors? Ha, writ of errors? law-tricks, words of Art Demurs and quillets. All not worth a pin, will you bethink you father? I have bethought me, and to let thee see, The true proportion of thy impudence, Behold my Daughter, whom thou personatest. How, your Daughter? Yes minks, his Daughter. My niece, and I will make it good.
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)
That maid's my ſiſter, whome on magiques wing, To this fayre preſence, my rich Art ſhall bring, Prepare to meete them, for this minutes age, ſends with my charme their airy pilgrimage. Where are are we now? how ſtrang were we borne Vpon the pinions of the fleeting ayre, And where diſmounted? vnto what great Prince Chriſtian or Pagan longs this manſion. Are we in any ſociable place? Or in the Cell of ſome Magitian, Who by his skill in helliſh exorciſmes, Made vs his thrall? I can forbeare no longer, Welcome thrice wellcome. Welcome? Whence? To whome? to mee. Thy father. and thy friendes. do not beguile vs, O Demetrio? We are betraid, ſee the Magtiian, That by his cunning and ſtrong working charmes, Brought vs vnknowne. to thy fathers armes, Welcome Emilia, with this Iuory chayne, I ſphaere my hopes and in thy boſome rayne, Theſe teares of comfort, then embrace thy friends. Thy Brothers Arte all further difference endes. Your Citty. Genoa▪ And your reuerend name. Ferneze. Father. Yes the verie ſame, I doe remember when ſhe went to nurſe, What a curſt vixen twa▪s, but now ſhee's growne. Not paſt all goodnes, yet I hope ſr: but yfaith Brother waſt you that brought vs from Turky a cockhorſe? and your Genoan hackneye be ſo quick pac'd you ſhall haue more of our Cuſtome. Lay by diſcourſe, what Gentleman is that comes vninuited to our feaſt of ioy. Pray welcome him father, hee's a Genoan marchant, that with much ſuite ranſom'd mee from the Turke. My hopes redeemer welcome, but proceede Vnto the doubtfull fortunes of my childe: Twas tolde me ſhe was ſtolne from Monta ſancta. You helpe my memorie, thence ſhe was ſtolne, And for her beautie, choſen Concubine To the laſciuious Turke, but by much ſute, And meditation of ſome ſpeciall friends, I bought her freedome with a thouſand markes▪ Which weele repay with ample intereſt, Once more weele bid you welcome, and to ſet A ſmoother gloſſe vpon our merryment, There's a quicke Wench that onely liues by wit, Who vnderſtanding I had loſt my Daughter, Borrow'd thy habit, and Vſurpes thy name, One call her in, now Daughter make thee ſit, To combat and diſmount her actiue wit. A parlous Girle, her wits a meere Snaphaunce, Goe's with a fire locke, ſhe ſtrikes fire from ſtones, Shee knowes the Law too, a meere murthering peece, Fight lowe, locke cloſe, ſhee ſpeakes meere▪ lightning Neece. How now father, haue you put on your cōſidering Cap, and bethought you? or ſhall I proceede and trauerſe my writ of errors? Ha, writ of errors? Law-trickes, words of Art Demurrs and quillets. All not worth a pinne, will you bethinke you father? I haue bethought me, and to let thee ſee, The true proportion of thy impudence, Behold my Daughter, whome thon perſonat'ſt. How, yout Daughter? Yes minkes, his Daughter. My neece, and I will make it good.