Jonson, Ben · published 1609 · first performed or written 1597 [1597-1598; interpolations later] (Annals) comedy · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Father, I'll hear no more, thou movest too much With thy too curious answer for thy daughter, That doth deserve a thousand times as much, I'll be thy Son in law, and she shall wear Th'attire of Countesses. O good my Lord, Mock not the poor, remembers not your Lordship, That poverty is the precious gift of God. As well as riches, tread upon me, rather Than mock my poorness. Rise I say: When I mock poorness, than heavens make me poor. See here's the Count Ferneze, I will tell him The hapless accident of his brave son, That he may seek the sooner to redeem him, God save your Lordship. You are right welcome sir. I would I brought such news as might deserve it. What, bring you me ill news? 'tis ill my Lord, Yet such as usual chance of war affords, And for which all men are prepared that use it, And those that use it not, but in their friends, Or in their children. Ill news of my son? My dear and only son, I'll lay my soul, Ay me accursed, thought of his death doth wound me, And the report of it will kill me quite. 'tis not so ill my Lord. How then? he's taken prisoner, and that's all. That's enough, enough, I set my thoughts on love, on servile love, Forget my virtuous wife, feel not the dangers, The bands and wounds of mine own flesh and blood, And therein am a mad man: therein plagued, With the most just affliction under heaven. Is Maximilian taken prisoner to? My good my Lord, he is returned with prisoners. be't possible, can Maximilian? Return, and view my face without my son, For whom he swore such care as for himself? My Lord no care can change the events of war. O! in what tempests do my fortune's sail, Still wracked with winds more foul and contrary, Than any northern guest, or Southern flaw? That ever yet enforced the sea to gape, And swallow the poor Merchants traffic up? First in Vicenza, lost I my first son; Next here in Milan my most dear loved Lady: And now my Paulo, prisoner to the French, Which last being printed with my other griefs, Doth make so huge a volume, that my breast Cannot contain them. But this is my love: I must make love to Rachel, heaven hath thrown, This vengeance on me most deservedly: Were it for nought but wronging of my steward. My Lord since only money may redress The worst of this misfortune, be not grieved, Prepare his ransom and your noble son Shall greet your cheered eyes, with the more honour. I will prepare his ransom: gracious heaven Grant his imprisonment may be his worst, Honoured and soldier-like imprisonment, And that he be not manacled and made A drudge to his proud foe. And here I vow, Never to dream of seeme-les amorous toys, Nor aim at other joy on earth, But the fruition of my only son.
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)
Father, Ile heare no more, thou mou'ſt too much With thy too curious anſwere for thy daughter, That doth deſerue a thouſand times as much, Ile be thy Sonne in law, and ſhe ſhall weare Th'attire of Counteſſes. O good my Lord, Mock not the poore, remembers not your Lordſhip, That pouerty is the precious gift of God. As well as riches, tread vpon me, rather Then mocke my poorenes. Riſe I ſay: When I mocke poorenes, then heauens make me poore. See heres the Count Ferneze, I will tell him The hapleſſe accident of his braue ſonne, That hee may ſeeke the ſooner to redeeme him, God ſaue your Lordſhip. You are right welcome ſir. I would I brought ſuch newes as might deſerue it. What, bring you me ill newes? Tis ill my Lord, Yet ſuch as vſuall chance of warre affoords, And for which all men are prepar'd that vſe it, And thoſe that vſe it not, but in their friends, Or in their children. Ill newes of my ſonne? My deere and onely ſonne, Ile lay my ſoule, Ay me accurs'd, thought of his death doth wound me, And the report of it will kill me quite. Tis not ſo ill my Lord. How then? Hee's taken priſoner, and that's all. That's enough, enough, I ſet my thoughts on loue, on ſeruile loue, Forget my vertuous wife, feele not the dangers, The bands and wounds of mine owne fleſh and bloud, And therein am a mad man: therein plagu'd, With the moſt iuſt affliction vnder heauen. Is Maximilian taken priſoner to? My good my Lord, he is return'd with priſoners. Iſt poſſible, can Maximilian? Returne, and view my face without my ſonne, For whom he ſwore ſuch care as for himſelfe? My Lord no care can change the euents of war. O! in what tempeſts do my fortunes ſaile, Still wrackt with winds more foule and contrary, Then any northen gueſt, or Southerne flawe? That euer yet inforc't the ſea to gape, And ſwallow the poore Marchants traffique vp? Firſt in Vieenza, loſt I my firſt ſonne; Next here in Millaine my moſt deere lou'd Lady: And now my Paulo, priſoner to the French, Which laſt being printed with my other griefes, Doth make ſo huge a volume, that my breſt Cannot containe them. But this is my loue▪ I muſt make loue to Rachel, heauen hath throwne, This vengeance on me moſt deſeruedly: Were it for nought but wronging of my ſteward. My Lord ſince onely mony may redreſſe The worſt of this miſfortune, be not griued, Prepare his ranſome and your noble ſonne Shall greete your cheered eyes, with the more honour. I will prepare his ranſome: gratious heauen Grant his impriſonment may be his worſt, Honored and ſouldier-like impriſonment, And that he be not manacled and made A drudge to his proude foe. And here I vow, Neuer to dreame of ſeeme-les amorous toyes, Nor aime at other ioy on earth, But the fruition of my onely ſonne.