Marston, John / Machin, Lewis / Barkstead, William · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1607-1608; revised 1609-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels (?); Children of the King's Revels (?) · Whitefriars unassigned nearest T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage · 530 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
Good my Lord learn to swear by rote: Your birth and fortune makes my brain suppose, That like a man heated with wines and lust, She that is next your object is your mate, Till the foul water have quenched out the fire. You the Duke's kinsman, tell me, I am young, Fair, rich, and virtuous; I myself will flatter myself, till you are gone, that are more fair, More rich, more virtuous, and more debonair: All which are ladders to an higher reach: Who drinks a puddle that may taste a spring? Who kiss a Subject that may hug a King? Yes, the Camel always drinks in puddle water, And as for huggings read Antiquities. Faith, madam, I'll board thee one of these days. ay, but ne'er bed me my Lord: my vow is firm Since God hath called me to this noble state, Much to my grief, of virtuous Widowhood, No man shall ever come within my gates. Wilt thou ram up thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceive You're ignorant of the Lovers legerdemain. There is a fellow that by Magic will assist To murder Princes invisible, I can command his spirit. Or what say you to a fine scaling Ladder of ropes? I can tell you, I am a mad wag-halter: But by the virtue I see seated in you, And by the worthy fame is blazoned of you, By little Cupid, that is mighty named, And can command my looser follies down, I love, and must enjoy, yet with such limits, As one that knows enforced marriage To be the Fury's sister. Think of me. Ha, ha, ha. How now Lady, does the toy take you, as they say? No, my Lord, nor do we take your toy, as they say. This is a child's birth, that must not be delivered before a man, Though your Lordship might be a Midwife for your chin. Some bawdy riddle is't not? you long till't be night. No, my Lord, women's longing comes after their marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now. Why, dost think I'll make my Husband a Cuckold? O here they come. signor Rogero, are you yet qualified? Yes: does any man think I'll go like a sheep to the slaughter? Hands off my Lord, your Lordship may chance come under my hands: If you do, I shall show myself a Citizen, and revenge basely. I think if I were receiving the holy Sacrament His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly: But there's the beauty without parallel, In whom the Graces and the virtues meet: In her aspect mild Honour sits and smiles: And who looks there, were it the savage Bear, But would derive new nature from her eyes. But to be reconciled simply for him, Were mankind to be lost again, I'd let it, And a new heap of stones should stock the world. In heaven and earth this power beauty hath, It inflames Temperance, and temp'rates Wrath: whate'er thou art, mine art thou wise or chaste: I shall set hard upon thy marriage vow, And write revenge high in thy husband's brow, In a strange Character. You may begin sir.
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)
Good my Lord learne to sweare by roate: Your birth and fortune makes my braine suppose, That like a man heated with wines and lust, Shee that is next your obiect is your mate, Till the foule water haue quencht out the fire. You the Dukes kinsman, tell me, I am young, Faire, rich, and vertuous; I my selfe will flatter My selfe, till you are gone, that are more faire, More rich, more vertuous, and more debonaire: All which are ladders to an higher reach: Who drinkes a puddle that may taste a spring? Who kisse a Subiect that may hugge a King? Yes, the Cammell alwayes drinkes in puddle water, And as for huggings reade Antiquities. Faith, Madame, Ile bord thee one of these dayes. I, but ne'er bed mee my Lord: my vow is firme Since God hath called mee to this noble state, Much to my griefe, of vertuous Widow-hood, No man shall euer come within my gates. Wilt thou ram vp thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceiue You're ignorant of the Louers leger demane. There is a fellow that by Magicke will assist To murther Princes inuisible, I can command his spirit. Or what say you to a fine scaling Ladder of ropes? I can tell you, I am a mad wag-halter: But by the vertue I see seated in you, And by the worthy fame is blazond of you, By little Cupid, that is mighty nam'd, And can command my looser follies downe, I loue, and must enioy▪ yet with such limits, As one that knowes inforced marriage To be the Furies sister. Thinke of me. Ha, ha, ha. How now Lady, does the toy take you, as they say? No, my Lord, nor doe we take your toy, as they say. This is a childes birth, that must not be deliuered before a man, Though your Lordship might be a Mid-wife for your chinne. Some bawdy riddle is't not? you long til't be night. No, my Lord, womens longing comes after their marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now. Why, dost thinke Ile make my Husband a Cuckold? O here they come. Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified? Yes: does any man thinke Ile goe like a sheepe to the slaughter? Hands off my Lord, your Lordship may chance come vnder my hands: If you doe, I shall shew my selfe a Citizen, and reuenge basely. I thinke if I were receiuing the holy Sacrament His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly: But there's the beauty without parallel, In whom the Graces and the Vertues meete: In her aspect milde Honour sits and smiles: And who lookes there, were it the sauage Beare, But would deriue new nature from her eyes. But to be reconcil'd simply for him, Were mankinde to be lost againe, Ide let it, And a new heape of stones should stocke the world. In heauen and earth this power beauty hath, It inflames Temp'rance, and temp'rates Wrath: What ere thou art, mine art thou wise or chaste: I shall set hard vpon thy marriage vow, And write reuenge high in thy Husbands brow, In a strange Character. You may beginne sir.