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 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
No, my honest friend, I will not sell it. Will you run with me for it? Run? no. Cheuore ye run for't, you shall near ha''t else. Oh my watch—Nic. Oh my watch. Stop the thief, stop the thief. Stop the Priest, stop the Priest. Let him go, he runs for a wager. How now? is my cousin Nice playing at Base? I know one of them well, by his sad tale Of Vaster's death: for that I'll not pursue him. Son, I did rest me, hoping to go forward. But so increase my pains, I am not able. Survey you Bruster's lands, and speed return. All's for your good, for I am now outworn. I go Sir— All's for me; yet while she lives, And his hydropic spirits can look through His Body's loop-holes, and convey the pleasure Of his contemplate gold, his lusts sole God, Through those windows to th' admiring heart: Nothing comes from him; not the superfluities Of base's things, not being first improved. I am his only issue, and on me I think he means to settle all his state. It's the only way to give me cursed and poor, To build my nest on such extorted store. Those fathers, that distressed men's ruins use, " As scaffolds to build up their racked wealth, Prove in the end, like city-houses, that " On small foundations carry spacious roofs: When the incensed heavens in tempests frown, " Their own top-heavy weight tumbles them down. The first or second generation spills " By riot, what by wrong the father fills. In this I'll be a mirror to these times: And by the hand of charity return To every man, what by his covetous rape Their states are ravished of: so work my rest. Th'ill gotten gone, that which remains is blessed. Oh Thirsty, honest Thirsty. Thy old master is but a dead man. I cannot piss man: my urine's stopped. You should drink, hard, master: all this comes with pinching yourself of your liquor. This is the reason, that so few Dutchmen are troubled with the stone. Your miserable Churl dribbles like the pissing Conduit: but his jovial son with a stream like Ware-water-spout. This is the cause, the Usurer falling sick, so seldom rises by the staff of Physic: for he has no water for the Physician to cast. Now the Gout, Dropsy, Lethargy take possession of their legs. I ha'lost my wind, and my watch, and I fear, my wench too. You have watched fair: sure that Parson was some Irishman. Some hangman uncase him. I ha' been at the Parsons, and he's no such manner of man. What crew's this? Bless your worship: I am your worship's sons Tenant. I ha'brought a rogue to your worship, to be examined. What fault hath has he committed? Clarke, to your office: take his examination. Now neighbour Sleepy, are you Constable?
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)
No, my honeſt friend, I will not ſell it. Will you runne with me for it? Runne? no. Cheuore ye runne for't, you ſhall nere ha't elſe. Oh my watch—Nic. Oh my watch. Stop the theefe, ſtop the theefe. Stop the Prieſt, ſtop the Prieſt. Let him go, he runs for a wager. How now? is my couſin Nice playing at Bace? I know one of them well, by his ſad tale Of Vaſters death: for that Ile not purſue him. Son, I did reſt me, hoping to go forward. But ſo increaſe my paines, I am not able. Suruey you Bruſters lands, and ſpeed returne. All's for your good, for I am now out-worne. I goe Sir—All's for me; yet whileshe liues, And his hydroppicke ſpirits can looke through His bodies loope-holes, and conuey the pleaſure Of his contemplate gold, his luſts ſole God, Through thoſe windowes to th' admiring heart: Nothing comes from him; not the ſuperfluities Of baſers things, not being firſt improu'd. I am his onely iſſue, and on me I thinke he meanes to ſettle all his ſtate. It's the onely way to giue me curſt and poore, To build my neſt on ſuch extorted ſtore. Thoſe fathers, that diſtreſſ'd mens ruines vſe, " As ſcaffolds to build vp their racked wealth, " Proue in the end, like citie-houſes, that " On ſmall foundations carry ſpacious roofes: " When the incenſed heauens in tempeſts frowne, " Their owne top-heauy weight tumbles them downe. " The firſt or ſecond generation ſpils " By ryot, what by wrong the father fils. In this Ile be a mirror to theſe times: And by the hand of charitie returne To euery man, what by his couetous rape Their ſtates are rauiſh'd of: ſo worke my reſt. Th'ill gotten gone, that which remaines is bleſt. Oh Thirſty, honeſt Thirsty. Thy old maſter is but a dead man. I cannot piſſe man: my vrine's ſtop'd. You ſhould drinke, hard, maſter: all this comes with pinching your ſelfe of your liquour. This is the reaſon, that ſo few Dutchmen are troubled with the ſtone. Your miſerable Churle dribbles like the piſſing Conduit: but his iouiall ſonne with a ſtreame like Ware-water-ſpout. This is the cauſe, the Vſurer falling ſicke, ſo ſeldome riſes by the ſtaffe of Phyſicke: for he has no water for the Phyſician to caſt. Now the Gowt, Dropſie, Lethargie take poſſeſſion of their legs. I ha'loſt my wind, and my watch, and I feare, my wench too. You haue watch'd faire: ſure that Parſon was ſome Iriſhman. Some hangman vncaſe him. I ha'bene at the Parſons, and he's no ſuch manner of man. What crew's this? Bleſſe your worſhip: I am your Worſhips ſonnes Tenant. I ha'brought a rogue to your worſhip, to be examin'd. What fault hath has he committed? Clarke, to your office: take his examination. Now neigbour Sleepy, are you Conſtable?