Englishmen for My Money, or A Woman Will Have Her Will · chunk 37 of 43
Haughton, William · published 1616 · first performed or written 1598 [Feb 18-May 9, payment] (Annals) comedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat typicality 0.80 · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
She's better than she was, I thank God for it, Now afore God she is a sweet smug Girl, One might do good on her; the flesh is frail, Man hath infirmity, and such a Bride, Were able to change Age to hot desire: Hark you Sweetheart, Tomorrow are my Daughters to be wed, I pray you take the pains to go with them. If sir you'll give me leave, I'll weight on them. Yes marry shall you, and a thousand thanks, Such company as you my daughter's want, Maids must grace Maids, when they are married: Is't not a merry life (thinks thou) to wed, For to embrace, and be embraced a-bed. I know not what you mean sir. here's an old Ferret Polecat. You may do, if you'll follow mine advice; I tell thee Mouse, I knew a Wench as nice: Well, she's at rest poor soul, I mean my Wife, That thought (alas good heart) Love was a toy, Until (well, that time is gone and passed away) But why speak I of this: Hark ye Sweeting, There's more in Wedlock, than the name can show; And now (by’r lady) you are ripe in years: And yet take heed Wench, there lies a Pad in Straw; Old Fornicator, had I my Dagger, I'd break his Costard. Young men are slippery, fickle, wavering; Constant abiding graceth none but Age: Then Maids should now wax wise, and do so, As to choose constant men, let fickle go, Youth's unregarded, and unhonoured: An ancient Man doth make a Maid a Matron: And is not that an Honour, how say you? how say you? Yes forsooth. (Oh old lust will you never let me go.) You say right well, and do but think thereon, How Husbands, honoured years, long cared-for wealth, Wise staidness, Experient government, Doth grace the Maid, that thus is made a Wise, And you will wish yourself such, on my life. I think I must turn womankind altogether, And scratch out his eyes: For as long as he can see me, he'll near let me go. But go (sweetheart) to bed, I do thee wrong, The lateness now, makes all our talk seem long. How now Mowche, be the Girls a-bed? Mathea (and it like you) fain would sleep, but only tarrieth for her bedfellow. Ha, you say well: come, light her to her Chamber, Good rest wish I to thee; wish so to me, Than Susan and Pisaro shall agree: Think but what joy is near your bedfellow, Such may be yours; take counsel of your Pillow: Tomorrow we'll talk more; and so good night, Think what is said, may be, if all hit right. What, have I passed the Pikes: knows he not Ned? I think I have deserved his daughter's bed. 'tis well, 'tis well: but this let me request, You keep unknown, till you be laid to rest: And then a good hand speed you.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
She's better then ſhe was, I thanke God for it, Now afore God ſhe is a ſweete ſmugge Girle, One might doe good on her; the fleſh is frayle, Man hath infirmitie, and ſuch a Bride, Were able to change Age to hot deſire: Harke you Sweet-heart, To morrow are my Daughters to be wedde, I pray you take the paines to goe with them. If ſir youle giue me leaue, Ile waight on them. Yes marry ſhall you, and a thouſand thankes, Such company as you my Daughters want, Maydes muſt grace Maydes, when they are married: Iſt not a merry life (thinkes thou) to wed, For to imbrace, and be imbrac'd abed. I know not what you meane ſir. Heere's an old Ferret Pol-cat. You may doe, if youle follow mine aduice; I tell thee Mouſe, I knew a Wench as nice: Well, ſhee's at reſt poore ſoule, I meane my Wife, That thought (alas good heart) Loue was a toy, Vntill (well, that time is gon and paſt away) But why ſpeake I of this: Harke yee Sweeting, There's more in Wedlocke, then the name can ſhew; And now (birlady) you are ripe in yeares: And yet take heed Wench, there lyes a Pad in Straw; Old Fornicator, had I my Dagger, Ide breake his Coſtard. Young men are ſlippery, fickle, wauering; Conſtant abiding graceth none but Age: Then Maydes ſhould now waxe wiſe, and doe ſo, As to chuſe conſtant men, let fickle goe, Youth's vnregarded, and vnhonoured: An auncient Man doth make a Mayde a Matron: And is not that an Honour, how ſay you? how ſay you? Yes forſooth. (Oh old luſt will you neuer let me goe.) You ſay right well, and doe but thinke thereon, How Husbands, honored yeares, long card-for wealth, Wiſe ſtayedneſſe, Experient gouernment, Doth grace the Mayde, that thus is made a Wiſe, And you will wiſh your ſelfe ſuch, on my life. I thinke I muſt turne womankind altogeather, And ſcratch out his eyes: For as long as he can ſee me, hele nere let me goe. But goe (ſweet-heart) to bed, I doe thee wrong, The lateneſſe now, makes all our talke ſeeme long. How now Mowche, be the Girles abed? Mathea (and it like you) faine would ſleepe, but onely tarrieth for her bed-fellow. Ha, you ſay well: come, light her to her Chamber, Good reſt wiſh I to thee; wiſh ſo to mee, Then Suſan and Piſaro ſhall agree: Thinke but what ioy is neere your bed-fellow, Such may be yours; take counſaile of your Pillow: To morrow weele talke more; and ſo good night, Thinke what is ſayd, may bee, if all hit right. What, haue I paſt the Pikes: knowes he not Ned? I thinke I haue deſeru'd his Daughters bed. Tis well, tis well: but this let me requeſt, You keepe vnknowne, till you be laide to reſt: And then a good hand ſpeed you.