Tomkis, Thomas · published 1615 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 9] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
True; and being drowned, Nothing so grieved me as to lose thy company. But since I am safe returned, for thy good service I'll help thee to a husband. A husband, sir? Some young and lusty youth, or else I'll none. To one that love's thee dearly, dearly wench. A goodly man, like me in limbs and fashion. Fie, an old man? how? cast myself away, And be no nurse but his? he's not like me In years and gravity, but fair proportion. A handsome well-set man as I. His name? 'Tis Tom Trincalo of Totnam, signor Pandolfo's lusty Farmer? That's he. Most unexpected happiness! 'tis the man, I more esteem then my own life: sweet Master Procure that match, and think me satisfied For all my former service without wages. But as I fear you jest. My poor unworthiness Hope's not so great a fortune as sweet Trincalo. No, wretched Armellina, in and despair: Back to thy mournful Dresser; there lament Thy flesh to Kitchen-stuff, and bones to ashes, For love of thy sweet Farmer. Alas poor soul, How prettily she weeps for me! Wilt see him? My soul waits in my eyes, and leaves my body Senseless. Then swear to keep my counsel. I swear By th'beauteous eyes of Trincalo. Why I am Trincalo. Your worship sir! why do you flout your servant, Right worshipful Antonio, my reverend Master? Pox of Antonio, I am Tom Trincalo. Why laugh'st thou? 'Tis desire and joy, To see my sweetest. Look upon me and see him. I say I see Antonio, and none other. I am within, thy love; without, thy Master. Th'ginger transformed me for a day. Mock not your poor Maid, pray you sir. I do not. Now would I break this head against the stones, To be unchanged; fie on this Gentry, it stick's Like Bird-lime, or the Pox. I can not part with't. Within, I am still thy Farmer Trincalo. Then must I wait, till old Antonio be brought to bed of a fair Trincalo; Or flay you, and strip you to yourself again. Carry me to your chamber. Try me there. O sir by no means: but with my lovely Farmer I'd stay all night and thank him. Cross misfortune! accursed Albumazar! and mad Pandolfo! To change me thus, that when I most desire To be myself, I cannot. Armellina! Fetch me a looking-glass. To what end? Fetch one. Let my old masters business sink or swim, This sweet occasion must not be neglected. Now shall I know th'Astrologers skill: o wonderful! Admired Albumazar in two transmutations: Here's my old farmer's face. How in an instant I am unchanged that was so long a changing. Here's my flat nose again, etc. Now Armellina take thy loved Trincalo To thy desired embracements, use thy pleasure, Kiss him thy bellyful. Not here in public. T'enjoy too soon what pleaseth is unpleasant: The world would envy that my happiness. Go in, I'll follow you, and in my bedchamber we'll consummate the match in privacy.
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)
True; and being drown'd, Nothing so grieu'd mee as to loose thy company. But since I am safe return'd, for thy good seruice I'le helpe thee to a husband. A husband, sir? Some yong and lusty youth, or else I'le none. To one that loue's thee deerely, deerely wench. A goodly man, like mee in limbs and fashion. Fye, an old man? how? cast my selfe away, And bee no nurse but his? Hee's not like mee In yeares and grauity, but faire proportion. A hansome well-set man as I. His name? 'Tis Tom Trincalo of Totnam, Signior Pandolfo's lusty Farmer? That's hee. Most vnexpected happinesse! 'tis the man, I more esteeme then my owne life: sweete Maister Procure that match, and thinke mee satisfyed For all my former seruice without wages. But aj I feare you iest. My poore vnworthinesse Hopes not so great a fortune as sweete Trincalo. No, wretched Armellina, in and despaire: Back to thy mournefull Dresser; there lament Thy flesh to Kitchin-stuffe, and bones to ashes, For loue of thy sweet Farmer. Alas poore soule, How prettily shee weepes for mee! Wilt see him? My soule waites in my eies, and leaues my body Senselesse. Then sweare to keep my counsell. I sweare By th'beauteous eies of Trincalo. Why I am Trincalo. Your worship sir! why do you flout your seruant, Right worshipfull Antonio, my reuerend Maister? Pox of Antonio, I am Tom Trincalo. Why laugh'st thou? 'Tis desire and ioy, To see my sweetest. Look vpon mee and see him. I say I see Antonio, and none other. I am within, thy loue; without, thy Maister. Th'Astrologer transform'd mee for a day. Mock not your poore Maide, pray you sir. I doe not. Now would I break this head against the stones, To be vnchang'd; fye on this Gentry, it stick's Like Bird-lime, or the Pox. I can not part with't. Within, I am still thy Farmer Trincalo. Then must I waite, till old Antonio Bee brought to bed of a faire Trincalo; Or flea you, and strip you to yourselfe againe. Carry mee to your chamber. Try mee there. O sir by no meanes: but with my louely Farmer I'de stay all night and thank him. Crosse misfortune! Accurst Albumazar! and mad Pandolfo! To change me thus, that when I most desire To bee my selfe, I cannot. Armellina! Fetch mee a looking-glasse. To what end? Fetch one. Let my old maisters businesse sink or swim, This sweet occasion must not be neglected. Now shall I know th'Astrologers skill: ô wonderfull! Admir'd Albumazar in two transmutations: Here's my old Farmers face. How in an instant I am vnchang'd that was so long a changing. Here's my flatte nose againe, &c. Now Armellina take thy lou'd Trincalo To thy desir'd embracements, vse thy pleasure, Kisse him thy belly-full. Not here in publick. T'enioy too soone what pleaseth is vnpleasant: The world would enuy that my happinesse. Go in, I'le follow you, and in my bed-chamber Wee'l consummate the match in priuacie.