Anonymous · published 1609 · first performed or written 1607 [1599-1608] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
No, no, my good Host, mum, mum, no words against my wife, she's mine own, one flesh & one blood, I shall feel her hurt, her tongue is her own, so are her hands, mum, mum, no words against your wife. Tut, tut, thou art a fool, keep her close from the pothecary, let her taste of no liquorice, 'twill make her long wound: no plums, nor no parseneps, no pears, nor no Popperins, she'll dream in her sleep then, let her live upon Hasels, give her nuts for her diet while a toothe's in her head: give her cheese for digestion: 'twil make her short wound, if that will not serve, set fire to the pan, and blow her up with Gunpowder. I, I, mine Host, you are well employed to give a man counsel against his wife, they are apt enough to ill I warrant ye. Mum, mum, my sweet wife, I know the world well enough, I have an ear, but I hear not: an eye, but I see not: what's spoke against thee, I regard not: mum, mum, I know the world well enough. I, and 'ttwere more seemly you were at your own house too, your wife cannot go abroad but you must follow, husbands must be fringed to their wives Petticoats, I pray you tarry you, i'll go home. Not so my sweet wife, I am gone, I am vanished, mum, mum, no anger shall stir thee, no words, I know the world well enough. 'tTwere better by thrice deuce-ace in a week every woman could awe her husband so well as she. Is't possible, 'sfoot well, I thought it had been but a fable all this while, that Iole should make great Hercules spit on his thumbs, & spin, but now I see, if a man were as great as Caesar, Iulius, or Augustus, or both in one, a woman may take him down. Gossip, faith i'll use a little of your counsel, but my husband is so fat, I fear I shall never bring him to it. Now gentles, you that can prepare a few tears to shed, for now enters a sad scene of sorrow. Man is flesh, and flesh is frail, The strongest man at length must fail, Man is flesh, and flesh is grass, Consuming time as in a glass. Now is up, and now is down, And is not purchased by a Crown. Now seed, and now we are sown, Now we whither, now are mown, Frater noster here doth lie, In panpertate he did die. And now is gone his viam longam, That leads unto his requiem aeternam But dying needy, poor and bare, Wanting to discharge the Friar, Unto his grave, he's like to pass, Having neither Dirge nor Mass. So set forward, let him go, Et benedicamus Domino.
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)
No, no, my good Hoſt, mum, mum, no words againſt my wife, ſhee's mine owne, one fleſh & one blood, I ſhall feele her hurt, her tongue is her owne, ſo are her hands, mum, mum, no words againſt your wife. Tut, tut, thou art a foole, keepe her cloſe from the poticarie, let her taſte of no licoras, twill make her long winded: no plums, nor no parſeneps, no peares, nor no Popperins, ſheele dreame in her ſleepe then, let her liue vpon Haſels, giue her nuts for her dyet while a toothe's in her head: giue her cheeſe for diſgeſtion: twil make her ſhort winded, if that will not ſerue, ſet fire to the pan, and blow her vp with Gun-powder. I, I, mine Hoſt, you are well imployed to giue a man counſell againſt his wife, they are apt enough to ill I warrant ye. Mum, mum, my ſweete wife, I know the world wel enough, I haue an eare, but I heare not: an eye, but I ſee not: whats ſpoake againſt thee, I regard not: mum, mum, I knowe the world well enough. I, and twere more ſeemely you were at your owne houſe too, your wife cannot goe abroad but you muſt follow, husbands muſt bee fringed to their wiues Petticoates, I pray you tarrie you, ile goe home. Not ſo my ſweet wife, I am gone, I am vaniſht, mum, mum, no anger ſhall ſtirre thee, no words, I know the world well inough. Twere better by thrice deuce-ace in a weeke euery woman could awe her husband ſo well as ſhe. Iſt poſſible, sfoot well, I thought it had bene but a fable al this while, that Iole ſhold make great Hercules ſpit on his thombes, & ſpin, but now I ſee, if a man were as great as Caeſar, Iulius, or Auguſtus, or both in one, a woman may take him downe. Goſſip, faith ile vſe a little of your counſel, but my husband is ſo fat, I feare I ſhall neuer bring him to it. Now gentles, you that can prepare a few teares to ſhed, for now enters a ſad ſceane of ſorrowe. Man is fleſh, and fleſh is fraile, The ſtrongeſt man at length muſt faile, Man is fleſh, and fleſh is graſſe, Conſuming time as in a glaſſe. Now is vp, and now is downe, And is not purchaſt by a Crowne. Now ſeede, and now we are ſowen, Now we wither, now are mowen, Frater noſter heere doth lye, In panpertate he did die. And now is gone his viam longam, That leades vnto his requiem aeternam But dying needie, poore and bare, Wanting to diſcharge the Fryer, Vnto his graue, hees like to paſſe, Hauing neither Dirge nor Maſſe. So ſet forward, let him goe, Et benedicamus Domino.