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 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.
Dead? I'll go take possession presently. Do not with too strict rigour exercise your power on his distressed family. My time is come, I will not lose an hour. It's just, that every man should take his own. Sir, you speak law, not charity. He that will Be nothing more than just, is unjust still. Woe to that quited soul, to whom from heaven All justice, and no mercy shall be given. Your mercy to the widow, to the Orphans. As much as a Puritan has upon a good feast. Well— let me tell you this— Sager is dead. So flies report, borne on presumptions wings. But how he died, that aery bird not sings. Killed— but by whom— weight deeply— I must hence. The mutter's strong— look to your conscience. How's this? killed?— muttering? and conscience? Look, his ghastly melancholy points him out for the murderer. As sure, as a hat-brinks pulled down declares a cuckold, this darkness discovers him. I am a villain. Tell him, that knows it not. My narrow heart cannot be capable Of this huge bulk of sorrow. It must out. Now, to whose bosom better than my friends? This hand killed Sager. How? Nay, do your worst. 'twas but chance medley, accidental slaughter. Intending with my Piece to strike a fowl, Against my will the cock went down, and he Stood in death's way. It was his destiny. But Griffin, hark you— let not your tongue stir. Do not I know you for a forger? And more— you wot— let not your tongue be loose. Thus are two Foxes catched in one poor noose. Our guilt shall bind our secrecy; who lives An unsuspected villain, winks at others Unlawful deeds, to teach their eyelids how To wink at his— Shall we go to our new Hostess? Where? who? For your where, at the Maidenhead, a good likely place. For your who: the widow that old Gripe suspects for the robbery; but young Gripe hath tenanted to his Inn. Mass, she prevents us. Widow, we were coming. Pray Gentlemen walk in; you shall have attendance. Your company, sweet widow. I'll not be long from you, Sir. Oh, some retiring from this house of sin. Fate! I was never bred to keep an Inn. More customers? that which all Inns would see; Great store of guests: this is a plague to me. Yonder's mine Hostess. Now the water's up, that we cannot get over to the Abbey, it is our securest course to commit the money to her custody. If any search should be made, and these tokens found about us, we are all dead men: there's not so much mercy in Gripe, as in the Plague. Agreed. Widow, we have some money to pay to a Londoner in Bedford here; and he's not yet come to receive it. Will you lock it up safe for us? But hear you? Deliver it not to any one of us. Except all three demand it together, keep it still.
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)
Dead? Ile go take poſſeſſion preſently. Do not with too ſtrict rigour exerciſe your power on his diſtreſſed family. My time is come, I will not loſe an houre. It's iuſt, that euery man ſhould take his owne. Sir, you ſpeake law, not charitie. He that will Be nothing more then iuſt, is vniuſt ſtill. Wo to that quited ſoule, to whom from heauen All iuſtice, and no mercie ſhall be giuen. Your mercy to the widdow, to the Orphans. As much as a Puritan has vpon a good feaſt. Well—let me tell you this—Sager is dead. So flies report, borne on preſumptions wings. But how he dy'd, that aerie bird not ſings. Kild—but by whom—waight deeply—I muſt hence. The muttring's ſtrong—looke to your conſcience. How's this? kild?—muttering? and conſcience? Looke, his ghaſtly melancholy points him out for the murderer. As ſure, as a hatte-brinkes puld downe declares a cuckold, this darkeneſſe diſcouers him. I am a villaine. Tell him, that knowes it not. My narrow heart cannot be capable Of this huge bulke of ſorrow. It muſt out. Now, to whoſe boſome better then my friends? This hand kild Sager. How? Nay, do your worſt. Twas but chance medley, accidentall ſlaughter. Intending with my Peece to ſtrike a fowle, Againſt my will the cocke went downe, and he Stood in deaths way. It was his deſtinie. But Griffin, harke you—let not your tongue ſtirre. Do not I know you for a forgerer? And more—you wot—let not your tongue be looſe. Thus are two Foxes catch'd in one poore nooſe. Our guilt ſhall bind our ſecrecie; who liues An vnſuſpected villaine, winks at others Vnlawfull deeds, to teach their eye-lids how To winke at his—Shall we go to our new Hoſtice? Where? who? For your where, at the Maiden-head, a good likely place. For your who: the wid dow that old Gripe ſuſpects for the robbery; but young Gripe hath tenanted to his Inne. Maſſe, ſhe preuents vs. Widdow, we were comming. Pray' Gentlemen walke in; you ſhall haue attendance. Your company, ſweete widdow. Ile not be long from you, Sir. Oh, ſome retiring from this houſe of ſinne. Fate! I was neuer bred to keepe an Inne. More cuſtomers? that which all Innes would ſee; Great ſtore of gueſts: this is a plague to me. Yonder's mine Hoſtice. Now the water's vp, that we cannot get ouer to the Abbey, it is our ſecureſt courſe to commit the money to her cuſtodie. If any ſearch ſhould be made, and theſe tokens found about vs, we are all dead men: there's not ſo much mercie in Gripe, as in the Plague. Agreed. Widdow, we haue ſome money to pay to a Londoner in Bedford here; and he's not yet come to receiue it. Will you locke it vp ſafe for vs? But heare you? Deliuer it not to any one of vs. Except all three demand it to gether, keepe it ſtill.