S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil typicality 0.81 · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Sirrah, your good nature will bring you to th'almshouse. Thou shalt not inherit a doit of mine. And for you two Kitlins, I'll make you mew i'th' jail, and there be any law in England. So this chasing fit hath got me the use of my legs again. Oh excellent Surgeon; would thou wert here again, for the other 25. pounds. Strange! that same Quacksalver has done him good, against his will. How fare you Sir? The worse for thee Bastard. Thou'st too much charity in thee to be the son of old Gripe. Dear brother, yield possession: we'll beg rather, Than this our worthy friend should lose his father. Sir, be not so incensed: resume your son Into your former love, and I resign All right, that his free promise hath made mine. Come then, Nice, Thirsty. Oh brave Surgeon, I can go. Oh brave mortgage I can enter. M. Benjamin, a sober word in private. If this wench want harbour, I care not if I give her a night's lodging. I have invited her with her brother to supper this night. Will you— Oh it's Friday, and I know you have flesh. Thou wouldst take her any night. Is she not flesh? Sweet Cousin, I would not eat her. If you please to commend me to her: let me see, for what— I leave that to you. Go in, let me alone. This petulant fool. Shall be my scaffold to erect my plots. Come, friends, unload your sorrows on my heart. Griefs weight is eased; when each one bears his part. THus am I stolen out from the covent. Abbot, Lie there, thou happy warranted case Of any Villain. Thou'st been my stalking-horse, Now these ten months. So long 'tis since the Abbot Went on a solemn pilgrimage and left My brother, a good honest friar, his friend Deputed for him. But my brother scarce Warm in his new vice-honour, walking out To visit me one morning, at my house Fell dead of an impostume suddenly. I buried him in private; but from's blood Am purer than the Crystal. Studying now, How to turn sorrow into policy, I have assumed his shape. Who can deny, But that a Dunce may rise to Dignity? Blind Ignorance doth not always strut in Satin. It often walks a Clergy pace in black, And deals the holy Rites with as bold hands, As if it grasped Ioues thunder: and did judge it Enough to stare, look big, and with a brow More rugged than is Radamanths, denounce Torrors against ill deeds: the whiles their own Are not less monstrous, but less broadly shown. Thus in myself, how easy't is, I prove, To sweat out judgements 'gainst the sins we love. As if a garment of world-cozening grace Were impudently good, set out by place. Well, I get nothing by this borrowed form, But countenance to my thefts. This hollow tree Keeps all my holiness: Lie there Abbot, till My work is done, then do thou hide my ill. Mass here's comes one already.
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sirrah, your good nature will bring you to th'Almeſhouſe. Thou ſhalt not inherit a doyt of mine. And for you two Kitlins, Ile make you mew ith Iayle, and there be any law in England. So this chaſing fit hath got me the vſe of my legges agame. Oh excellent Surgion; would thou wert here againe, for the other 25. pounds. Strange! that ſame Quack-ſaluer has done him good, againſt his will. How fare you Sir? The worſe for thee Baſtard. Th'haſt too much charitie in thee to be the ſonne of old Gripe. Deare brother, yeeld poſſeſſion: wee 'l begge rather, Then this our worthy friend ſhould loſe his father. Sir, be not ſo incens'd: reſume your ſonne Into your former loue, and I reſigne All right, that his free promiſe hath made mine. Come then, Nice, Thirsty. Oh braue Surgion, I can goe. Oh braue morgage I can enter. M. Beniamin, a ſober word in priuate. If this wench want harbour, I care not if I giue her a nights lodging. I haue inuited her with her brother to ſupper this night. Will you— Oh it's Fry-day, and I know you haue fleſh. Thou wouldſt take her any night. Is ſhe not fleſh? Sweet Couſin, I would not eate her. If you pleaſe to commend me to her: let me ſee, for what—I leaue that to you. Goe in, let me alone. This petulant foole. Shall be my ſcaffold to erect my plots. Come, friends, vnlode your ſorrowes on my heart. Griefes weight is eas'd; when each one beares his part. THus am I ſtolne out from the Couent. Abbot, Ly there, thou happy warranted caſe Of any Villaine. Th'haſt been my ſtawking-horſe, Now theſe ten months. So long 'tis ſince the Abbot Went on a ſolemne pilgrimage and left My brother, a good honeſt Fryer, his friend Deputed for him. But my brother ſcarce Warme in his new vice-honour, walking out To viſite me one morning, at my houſe Fell dead of an impoſtume ſuddenly. I bury'd him in priuate; but from's bloud Am purer then the Cryſtall. Studying now, How to turne ſorrow into policie, I haue aſſum'd his ſhape. Who can deny, But that a Dunce may riſe to Dignitie? Blind Ignorance doth not alwaies ſtrut in Sattin. It often walkes a Clergy pace in blacke, And deales the holy Rites with as bold hands, As if it graſp'd Ioues thunder: and did iudge it Enough to ſtare, looke bigge, and with a brow More rugged then is Radamanths, denounce Torrors againſt ill deeds: the whiles their owne Are not leſſe monſtrous, but leſſe broadly ſhowne. Thus in my ſelfe, how eaſie't is, I proue, To ſweat out iudgements 'gainſt the ſins we loue. As if a garment of world-couzning grace Were impudently good, ſet out by place. Well, I get nothing by this borrow'd forme, But countnance to my thefts. This hollow tree Keeps all my holineſſe: Lie there Abbot, till My worke is done, then doe thou hide my ill. Maſſe heres comes one already.