S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Sirrah, call your mother. This boy's a Puritan. I that had near loved myself to be thought good, Am highly pleased to see it in my blood. From whom derives this sprig such fruitful juice; The father being bad, the mother worse. Sure, he did suck this goodness from his Nurse. Poor boy, my riot has undone thee: poor Thou'rt made by me, I by a wife turned whore. My state is mortgaged to the usurous hand Of Gripe: my goods are wasted: all my hopes life Breathes thus: having sold all, I'll sell my wife. You're welcome, Looseness. Looseness Sir? Oh hell! She is my mother; pray you, use her well. Be gone. I cannot Sir. Good son, a way. A father gives command. I must obey. Make much of you? I will, I will. Never man made more of his wife, when he sold her to her smock. I'll sell thy flesh too Gipsy. Dear husband, I am yet clear; Oh do not you Force me to sin, I'll be for over true. True? true to the brothel, to the spital, to the grave. Thou art death's agent: a whore is one of his Beadles. Heaven pardon your black slanders. Come, I'm poor. Who made you? Thou, my content, turned whore. I'll work, or beg for you. No, thou hast wrought Too much already. Here, here's thy work. Wilt thou do one thing? Any thing. Then swear. And keep thy oath. I'll travel to the wars, And turn thee up, as some Captains wont; and try, If thou canst live by thy old trade, or die. Will you forsake me then? Yes, and am just. Since thou forsook'st me, and thine innocence, Be thy reward proportioned I must hence. Whiles thou wast good, to thee I had free desire. Now thou art proved a whore receive thy hire. Take place, thou tyrant will. Thick woes here hover. My state is lower than fate can recover. My obedience waits your pleasure. Hoh, within there. Aunt Mermaid I have brought you the girl I promised. Is the money ready? By that little honesty I have to swear by; a handsome wench. I must pay fifty pound for her: but if she were as young, as fair, I would get five hundred pound by her within this month. Aunt, pray use her well: she's my own sister. Be petulant you whore, sprightly frolic— as a Dutch tannakin.— or— This woman is a Bawd, a very Bawd; you like her the better for that. Come, skip about, quick silver: Dance like a Courtesan, or I'll fiddle ye. You ha' more tricks in private, than a Fencer can teach a Lord, or the devil a Fencer. Life, do you pule? I must have fifty pound for you: Do y' hear? Let your heels caper, and your tongue grow wanton, or by these horns I'll gore you— Aunt, she's somewhat sick of that rare disease, called Modesty. But in private she's more insatiate than a Puritan.
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)
Sirra, call your mother. This boy's a Puritan. I that had nere lou'd my ſelfe to be thought good, Am highly pleaſd to ſee it in my blood. From whom deriues this ſprigge ſuch fruitfull iuyce; The father being bad, the mother worſe. Sure, he did ſucke this goodneſſe from his Nurſe. Poore boy, my riot has vndone thee: poore Thou'rt made by me, I by a wife turnd whore. My ſtate is morgag'd to the vſurous hand Of Gripe: my goods are waſted: all my hopes life Breathes thus: hauing ſold all, Ile ſell my wife. Y' are welcome, Looſeneſſe. Looſeneſſe Sir? Oh hell! She is my mother; pray you, vſe her well. Be gone. I cannot Sir. Good ſonne, a way. A father giues command. I muſt obay. Make much of you? I will, I will. Neuer man made more of his wife, when he ſold her to her ſmocke. Ile ſell thy fleſh too Gypſey. Deare husband, I am yet cleare; Oh do not you Force me to ſinne, Ile be for ouer true. True? true to the brothell, to the ſpittle, to the graue. Thou art deaths agent: a whore is one of his Beadles. Heauen pardon your blacke ſlanders. Come, I'm poore. Who made you? Thou, my content, turn'd whore. Ile worke, or beg for you. No, thou haſt wrought Too much already. Here, here's thy worke. Wilt thou doe one thing? Any thing. Then ſweare. And keepe thy oath. Ile trauell to the warres, And turne thee vp, as ſome Captaines wont; and trie, If thou canſt liue by thy old trade, or die. Will you forſake me then? Yes, and am iuſt. Since thou forſook'ſt me, and thine innocence, Be thy reward proportion'd I muſt hence. Whiles thou waſt good, to thee I had free deſire. Now thou art prou'd a whore receaue thy hire. Take place, thou tyrant will. Thicke woes here houer. My ſtate is lower then fate can recouer. My obedience waits your pleaſure. Hoh, within there. Aunt Marre-maid I haue brought you the girle I promiſd. Is the mony ready? By that little honeſty I haue to ſweare by; a handſome wench. I muſt pay fiftie pound for her: but if ſhee were as yong, as faire, I would get fiue hundred pound by her within this moneth. Aunt, pray' vſe her well: ſhe's my owne ſiſter. Be petulāt you whore, ſprightly frollick—as a Dutch Tanikin.—or—This woman is a Bawd, a very Bawd; you like her the better for that. Come, skippe about, quicke ſiluer: Dance like a Curteſan, or Ile fiddle ye. You ha' more trickes in priuate, then a Fencer can teach a Lord, or the diuell a Fencer. Life, doe you pule? I muſt haue fiftie pound for you: Doe y' heare? Let your heeles caper, and your tongue grow wanton, or by theſe horns Ile gore you—Aunt, ſhee's ſomewhat ſicke of that rare diſeaſe, cald Modeſty. But in priuate ſhe's more inſatiate then a Puritan.