Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Long may you live free from all thought of ill, And long have cause to be thus merry still. But father? No more words Iasper, get thee gone, thou hast my blessing, thy father's spirit upon thee. Farewell Iasper, but yet or ere you part (oh cruel!) kiss me, kiss me sweeting, mine own dear jewel: So, now begone; no words. So Michael, now get thee gone too. Yes forsooth mother, but I'll have my father's blessing first. No Michael, 'tis now matter for his blessing, thou hast my blessing, begone; I'll fetch my money & jewels, and follow thee: I'll stay no longer with him I warrant thee, truly Charles I'll begone too. What you will not. Yes indeed will I. hay ho, farewell Nan, I'll never trust wench more again, if I can. You shall not think (when all your own is gone) to spend that I have been scraping up for Michael. Farewell good wife, I expect it not; all I have to do in this world, is to be merry: which I shall, if the ground be not taken from me: and if it be, When earth and seas from me are rest, The skies aloft for me are left. I'll be sworn he's a merry old Gentleman for all that. Hark, hark husband, hark, fiddles, fiddles; now surely they go finely. They say, 'tis present death for these fiddlers to tune their Rebecks before the great Turks grace, is't not George? But look, look, here's a youth dances: now good youth do a turn ath' toe, sweet heart, I'faith I'll have Rafe come and do some of his Gambols; he'll ride the wild mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him. I thank you kind youth, pray bid Rafe come. Peace coney. Sirrah, you scurvy boy, bid the players send Rafe, or by Gods— and they do not, I'll tear some of their periwigs beside their heads: this is all riff-raff. And how faith? how goes it now son Humphrey? Right worshipful, and my beloved friend And father dear, this matters at an end. 'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the girl Is found so tractable. Nay she must whirl From hence, and you must wink: for so I say, The story tells, tomorrow before day. George, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill be a match? tell me but what thou thinkst sweet rogue, thou seest the poor Gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the father for't. No, no, I prithee sit still honeysuckle, thou'lt spoil all, if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows myself, & in the shutting of an evening knocked up, & there's an end. I'll buss thee for that i'faith boy; well George, well, you have been a wag in your days I warrant you: but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.
seed 43: T48 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Long may you liue free from all thought of ill, And long haue cause to be thus merry still. But father? No more words Iasper, get thee gone, thou hast my blessing, thy fathers spirit vpon thee. Farewell Iasper, but yet or ere you part (oh cruell!) kisse me, kisse me sweeting, mine owne deere iewell: So, now begone; no words. So Michael, now get thee gone too. Yes forsooth mother, but Il'e haue my fathers blessing first. No Michael, 'tis now matter for his blessing, thou hast my blessing, begone; Il'e fetch my money & iewels, and follow thee: Il'e stay no longer with him I warrant thee, truly Charles Il'e begone too. What you will not. Yes indeed will I. Hey ho, fare-well Nan, Il'e neuer trust wench more againe, if I can. You shall not thinke (when all your owne is gone) to spend that I haue beene scraping vp for Michael. Farewell good wife, I expect it not; all I haue to doe in this world, is to bee merry: which I shall, if the ground be not taken from me: and if it be, When earth and seas from me are rest, The skyes aloft for me are left. Il'e be sworne hee's a merry old Gentleman for all that. Harke, harke husband, harke, fiddles, fiddles; now surely they go finely. They say, 'tis present death for these fidlers to tune their Rebeckes before the great Turkes grace, is't not George? But looke, looke, here's a youth dances: now good youth do a turnea'th toe, sweet heart, I'faith Ile haue Rafe come and do some of his Gambols; hee'l ride the wild mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him. I thanke you kinde youth, pray bid Rafe come. Peace Cunnie. Sirrah, you scuruie boy, bid the plaiers send Rafe, or by Gods—and they do not, Il'e teare some of their periwigs beside their heads: this is all Riffe Raffe. And how faith? how goes it now son Humphrey? Right worshipfull, and my beloued friend And father deere, this matters at an end. 'Tis well, it should be so, Im'e glad the girle Is found so tractable. Nay she must whirle From hence, and you must winke: for so I say, The storietels, to morrow before day. George, do'st thou thinke in thy conscience now'twil be a match? tell me but what thou thinkst sweet rogue, thou seest the poore Gentleman (deere heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: Il'e goe moue the father fort. No, no, I pre'thee sit still hony-suckle, thoul't spoile all, if he deny him, Il'e bring halfe a dozē good fellows my selfe, & in the shutting of an euening knock't vp, & ther's an end. Il'e busse thee for that i'faith boy; well George, well, you haue beene a wag in your daies I warrant you: but God forgiue you, and I do with all my heart.