Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
What is she? Sir I asked her not. Bid her come in. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you sir, in the behalf of this child. Are you not wife to Merrithought? Yes truly, would I had near seen his eyes, ha has undone me and himself and his children, & there he lives at home & sings, & hoights, & Revels among his drunken companions, but, I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not: and therefore if it like your Worship, I would entreat your letter, to the honest Host of the bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tapster, in some settled course of life. I'm glad the heavens have heard my prayers: thy husband When I was ripe in sorrows laughed at me, Thy son like an unthankful wretch, I having Redeemed him from his fall and made him mine, To show his love again, first stole my daughter, Then wronged this Gentleman, and last of all, Gave me that grief, had almost brought me down Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand Relieved my sorrows, go, and weep, as I did And be unpitied, for I here profess An everlasting hate to all thy name. Will you so sir, how say you by that? come Mick, let him keep his wind to cool his porridge, we'll go to thy nurses mick, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all. Sir, I take it you are the Master of this house. How then boy? Then to yourself sir comes this letter. From whom my pretty Boy? From him that was your servant, but no more Shall that name ever be, for he is dead, Grief of your purchased anger broke his heart, I saw him die, and from his hand received This paper, with a charge to bring it hither, Read it, and satisfy yourself in all. Sir, that I have wronged your love, I must confess, in which I have purchased to myself, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good sir, out live me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgiveness; let my body (if a dying man may so much prevails with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may truly know my hate flames are now buried, and, withal, receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her virtue: farewell for ever, and be ever happy. Iasper. God's hand is great in this, I do for give him, Yet I am glad he's quiet, where I hope He will not bite again: boy bring the body And let him have his will, if that be all.
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)
What is shee? Sir I askt her not. Bid her come in. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poore Suter to you sir, in the behalfe of this child. Are you not wife to Merrie-thought? Yes truely, would I had nere seene his eles, ha has vndone me and himselfe and his children, & there he liues at home & sings, & hoights, & Reuels among his drunken cō panions, but, I warrant you, where to get a peny to put bread in his mouth, he knowes not: and therefore if it like your Worship, I would entreate your letter, to the honest Host of the Bel in VValtham, that I may place my child vnder the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course of life. I'me glad the heauens haue heard my prayers: thy husband VVhen I was ripe in sorrows laught at me, Thy sonne like an vnthankefull wretch, I hauing Redeem'd him from his fall and made him mine, To shew his loue againe, first stole my daughter, Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all, Gaue me that griefe, had almost brought me downe Vnto my graue, had not a stronger hand Releiu'd my sorrowes, go, and weepe, as I did And be vnpittied, for I heere professe An euerlasting hate to all thy name. VVill you so sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keepe his winde to coole his Porrage, we'le go to thy Nurces Micke, shee knits silke stockings boy, and we'le knit too boy, and bee beholding to none of them all. Sir, I take it you are the Maister of this house. How then boy? Then to your selfe sir comes this letter. From whom my pretty Boy? From him that was your seruant, but no more Shall that name euer be, for hee is dead, Griefe of your purchas'd anger broke his heart, I saw him die, and from his hand receiu'd This paper, with a charge to bring it hither, Reade it, and satisfie your selfe in all. Sir, that I haue wronged your loue, I must confesse, in which I haue purchast to my selfe, besides myne owne vndoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good sir, out liue me, but suffer mee to rest in peace with your forgiuenesse; let my body (if a dying man may so much preuails with you) bee brought to your daughter, that shee may truely know my hate flames are now buried, and, withall, receiue a testimony of the zeale I bore her vertue: farewell for euer, and be euer happy. Iasper. Gods hand is great in this, I do for giue him, Yet I am glad he's quiet, where I hope He will not bite againe: boy bring the body And let him haue his will, if that be all.