S., S. · published 1616 · first performed or written 1615 [c.1614-1615] (Annals) comedy · Queen Anne's Men unassigned nearest T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
You will be gone Mr. Valentine; but I hope you will visit me shortly again. Before you look for me, Sir,— if all fall right, I vow to visit you again this night. Ha widow! I am clear of the stone now. The less able to do a widow pleasure, Sir. Tut, wench, I mean the disease, the disease. (No Sir: you have a worse disease behind:) The body hath no sickness like the mind. Try me, sweet. I'm like a leek, though I have a grey head, I have a green— wilt? wilt be my medicine for the stone? when? when? When you have married me I will be your wife. Pish: first make trial how thou likest me: there is no wit, to marry before experience. Your house Sir, is too public. Hold, there's the key of my closet. Be thine own pandar for conveyance. I must receive a little money: profit is above pleasure: about ten— Good luck direct my hands unto the mortgage. That found, if or my wit or strength hold tack, I have a medicine Sir, to cool your back. 'Las poor wench: now she's got into my Closet, she hugs her hopes, as a Politician his airy plot, and cries a prize, a prize. She shall be double coney-catched. Well, it grows Fairy-time. Oh the fine dapper lads, how they frisk about my chamber: when at every step here drops a groat, there a teston. Many drops make a flood. Sure, I'm some wonderful honest man, that they love me thus. I must to bed. Tarry, how then shall I keep touch with the widow? Tha't, I'll sit down in my chair, and feign myself in a slumber. Oh 'twill be a golden waking dream. Oh-oh-thou' are angry. Would I were rid of 'em. Oh— sweet spirit— oh— do not terrify me thus. What have I done to provoke you? Confess thy sins. Th' haste some wench in a corner. I have, I have— oh— but I'll not meddle with her. Whiles thy house was cleanly swept, And thy conscience chastened kept: Neat linen, fire and water ready; And thy purpose good and steady: Whiles thou never sent'st the poor Unrewarded from thy door. Whiles thou wakendst with the chimes, Because thou went'st to bed betimes, We brought thee wealth; but 'twas in vain: For now we'll fetch it back again. Come deliver the keys of your trunks. Oh thieves, you'll rob me, you'll undo me. No, Gouty blister, well bind thee, undo thee, who will—. Open thy jaws thou yawning sepulchre: Here is a morsel for an Usurer. A piece of Cheese of the Low-country Dairies. This is the usual diet of the Fairies. Now we will rip the lining of thy trunks. Better the Fairies have it then thy punks. Luck more, than we can carry, hath assigned us. Each horse his load: we'll leave the rest behind us. Thou greedy Panther. Savage Wolf. Man-eater. Thou setting Canker.
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)
You will be gone Mr. Valentine; but I hope you wil viſit me ſhortly againe. Before you looke for me, Sir,—if all fall right, I vowe to viſite you againe this night. Ha widow! I am cleere of the ſtone now. The leſſe able to do a widow pleaſure, Sir. Tut, wench, I meane the diſeaſe, the diſeaſe. (No Sir: you haue a worſe diſeaſe behind:) The body hath no ſickneſſe like the mind. Try me, ſweet. I'm like a leeke, though I haue a gray head, I haue a greene—wut? wut be my medicine for the ſtone? when? when? When you haue married me I will be your wife. Piſh: firſt make triall how thou likeſt me: there is no wit, to marry before experience. Your houſe Sir, is too publike. Hold, ther's the key of my cloſſet. Be thine owne pandar for conuayance. I muſt receiue a little money: profit is aboue pleaſure: about ten— Good lucke direct my hands vnto the morgage. That found, if or my witte or ſtrength hold tacke, I haue a medicine Sir, to coole your backe. 'Las poore wench: now ſhee's got into my Cloſſet, ſhe hugges her hopes, as a Polititian his ayery plotte, and cryes a prize, a prize. She ſhall be double cony-catch'd. Wel, it growes Fairy-time. Oh the fine dapper laddes, how they friske about my chamber: when at euery ſtep here droppes a grote, there a teſton. Many drops make a floud. Sure, I'm ſome wonderfull honeſt man, that they loue me thus. I muſt to bed. Tarry, how then ſhall I keepe touch with the widow? Tha't, Ile ſit downe in my chaire, and faine my ſelfe in a ſlumber. Oh 'twill be a golden waking dreame. Oh-oh-th' are angry. Would I were rid of 'hem. Oh—ſweet ſpirit—oh—doe not terrifie mee thus. What haue I done to prouoke you? Confeſſe thy ſinnes. Th' haſt ſome wench in a corner. I haue, I haue—oh—but Ile not meddle with her. Whiles thy houſe was cleanly ſwept, And thy conſcience chaſtly kept: Neat linnen, fire and water ready; And thy purpoſe good and ſteady: Whiles thou neuer ſentſt the poore Vnrewarded from thy doore. Whiles thou wakendſt with the chimes, Becauſe thou wentſt to bed betimes, We brought thee wealth; but ▪twas in vaine: For now we'll fetch it backe againe. Come deliuer the keys of your trunkes. Oh theenes, you'll robbe me, you'll vndoe me. No, Gowtie bliſter, well bind thee, vndoe thee, who will—. Open thy iawes thou yawning ſepulcher: Here is a morſel for an Vſurer. A peece of Cheeſe of the Low-country Dairies. This is the vſuall diet of the Fairies. Now we will rip the lining of thy trunkes. Better the Fairies haue it then thy punkes. Lucke more, then we can carry, hath aſſign'd vs. Each horſe his lode: we'll leaue the reſt behind vs. Thou greedy Panther. Sauage Wolfe. Man-eater. Thou fettting Canker.