Tomkis, Thomas · published 1615 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 9] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
Peace! peace! Now you're so wise as if you'd eaten Nothing but brains, and marrow of Machiavell. You tip your speeches with Italian Motti, Spanish Refrains, and English Quoth he's. Believe me There's not a Proverb salts your tongue, but plants Whole colonies of white hairs. O what a business These hands must have when you have married me, To pick out sentences that over-year you. Give me but leave. Have I a lip? and you Made Sonnets on't? 'tis your fault, for otherwise, Your sister and Eugenio had been sure Long time ere this. But— Stay, your cue's not come yet. I hate as perfectly this gray-green of yours, As old Antonio's greene-gray. Fie! Wise lovers, Are most absurd. Were not I full resolved, I should begin to cool mine own affection. For shame consider well your sister's temper. Her melancholy may much hurt her. Respect her, Or spite of mine own love, I'll make you stay Six months, before you marry me. This your so happy news? returned? and safe? Antonio yet alive? And then? Well. All your business must be compassed With winding plots, and cunning stratagems. Look to't: For if we be not married ere next morning, By the great love that's hid in this small compass, Flavia and myself will steal you both away To your eternal shame and foul discredit. How prettily this lovely littleness, In one breath pleads her own cause, and my sister's; Chides me, and loves. This is that pleasing temper I more admire, than a continued sweetness That oversatisfies: 'Tis salt I love; not sugar. HOw? not a single share of this great prize, That have deserved the whole? was't not my plot, And pains, and you mere instruments and porters? Shall I have nothing? No, not a silver spoon. Nor cover of a Trencher-salt. Nor Table-napkin? Friends; we have kept an honest trust and faith 'Long time amongst us Break not that sacred league, By raising civil theft, turn not your fury 'Gainst your own bowels. Rob your careful Master! Are you not ashamed? 'Tis our profession, As yours Astrology. And in th'days of old, Good morrow Thief, as welcome was received, As now your Worship. 'Tis your own instruction. The Spartans held it lawful, and th'Arabians, So grew Arabia, Happy: Sparta, Valiant. The world's a Theater of Theft: great Rivers Rob smaller Brooks; and them the Ocean. Have not I weaned you up from petty-larceny, Dangerous and poor? and nursed you to full strength Of safe and gainful theft? By rules of Art And principles of cheating, made you as free From taking, as you went invisible? And do ye thus requite me? this the reward For all my watchful care? We are your scholars, Made by your help, and our own aptness, able To instruct others. 'Tis the Trade we live by. You that are servant to Divine Astrology, Do something worth her livery. Cast Figures, Make Almanacs for all Meridian's. Sell Perspicils, and Instruments of hearing, Turn Clowns to Gentlemen, Buzzards to Falcons, Cur-dogs to Greyhounds, Kitchenmaids to Ladies.
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)
Peace! peace! Now y'are so wise as if y'had eaten Nothing but braines, and marrow of Machiauell. You tip your speeches with Italian Motti, Spanish Refranes, and English Quoth Hee's. Beleeue mee There's not a Prouerbe salt's your tongue, but plantes Whole colonies of white haires. O what a businesse These hands must haue when you haue married mee, To pick out sentences that ouer-yeare you. Giue mee but leaue. Haue I a lip? and you Made Sonnets on't? 'tis your fault, for otherwise, Your sister and Eugenio had beene sure Long time e're this. But— Stay, your Qu's not come yet. I hate as perfectly this gray-greene of yours, As old Antonio's greene-gray. Fy! Wise louers, Are most absurd. Were not I full resolu'd, I should beginne to coole mine owne affection. For shame consider well your sister's temper. Her melancholy may much hurt her. Respect her, Or spight of mine owne loue, I'le make you stay Six monthes, before you marry mee. This your so happy newes? return'd? and safe? Antonio yet aliue? And then? Well. All your businesse must bee compassed With winding plots, and cunning stratagems. Look to't: For if we be not married e're next morning, By the great loue that's hid in this small compasse, Flauia and my selfe will steale you both away To your eternall shame and foule discredit. How pretily this louely littlenesse, In one breath plead's her owne cause, and my sister's; Chides mee, and loues. This is that pleasing temper I more admire, then a continued sweetnesse That ouer-satisfie's: 'Tis salt I loue; not sugar. HOw? not a single share of this great prize, That haue deseru'd the whole? was't not my plot, And paines, and you meere instruments and porters? Shall I haue nothing? No, not a siluer spoone. Nor couer of a Trencher-salt. Nor Table-napkin▪ Friends; we haue kept an honest trust and faith 'Long time amongst vs▪ Breake not that sacred league, By raising ciuill theft▪ turne not your furie 'Gainst your owne bowels. Rob your carefull Maister! Are you not asham'd? 'Tis our profession, As your's Astrologie. And in th'daies of old, Good morrow Theefe, as welcome was receiu'd, As now your Worship. 'Tis your owne instruction. The Spartans held it lawfull, and th'Arabians, So grew Arabia, Happy: Sparta, Valiant. The world's a Theater of Theft: great Riuers Rob smaller Brookes; and them the Ocean. Haue not I wean'd you vp from peti-larceny, Dangerous and poore? and nurst you to full strength Of safe and gainefull theft? By rules of Art And principles of cheating, made you as free From taking, as you went inuisible? And do yee thus requite mee? this the reward For all my watchfull care? We are your schollers, Made by your helpe, and our owne aptnesse, able To instruct others. 'Tis the Trade wee liue by. You that are seruant to Diuine Astrologie, Do something worth her liuery. Cast Figures, Make Almanackes for all Meridians. Sell Perspicils, and Instruments of hearing, Turne Clownes to Gentlemen, Buzzards to Falcons, Cur-dogs to Grey-hounds, Kitchin-maids to Ladies.