Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1603 [1603-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
Why then young Bertram take her she's thy wife. My wife my Liege? I shall beseech your highness In such a business, give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes. knowst thou not Bertram what she has done for me? Yes my good Lord, but never hope to know why I should marry her. Thou knowst she has raised me from my sickly bed. But follows it my Lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father's charge: A poor Physician's daughter my wife? Disdain Rather corrupt me ever. 'tis only title thou disdainest in her, the which I can build up: strange is it that our bloods Of colour, weight, and heat, poured all together, Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous (save what thou dislik'st) A poor Physician's daughter, thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name: but do not so: From lowest place, whence virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th' doers deed. Where great additions swells, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good a lone, Is good without a name? Vileness is so: The property by what is is, should go, Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair, In these, to Nature she's immediate heir: And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, Which challenges itself as honours borne, And is not like the fire: Honours thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive Then our fore-goers: the mere words, a slave Deboshed on every tomb, on every grave: A lying Trophy, and as oft is dumb, Where dust, and damned oblivion is the Tomb. Of honoured bones-indeed, what should be said? If thou canst like this creature, as a maid, I can create the rest: Virtue, and she Is her own dower: Honour and wealth, from me. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. That you are well restored my Lord, I'm glad: Let the rest go. My honour's at the stake, which to defeat I must produce my power. here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love, and her desert: that canst not dream, We poizing us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam: That wilt not know, It is in Us to plant thine Honour, where We please to have it grow. Cheek thy contempt: Obey Our will, which travails in thy good: Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes, and Our power claims, Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers, and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance: both my revenge and hate Losing upon thee, in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity. Speak, thine answer.
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)
Why then young Bertram take her ſhee's thy wife. My wife my Leige? I ſhal beſeech your highnes In ſuch a buſines, giue me leaue to vſe The helpe of mine owne eies. Know'ſt thou not Bertram what ſhee ha's done for mee? Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know why I ſhould marrie her. Thou know'ſt ſhee ha's rais'd me from my ſickly bed. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe Muſt anſwer for your raiſing? I knowe her well: Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge: A poore Phyſitians daughter my wife? Diſdaine Rather corrupt me euer. Tis onely title thou diſdainſt in her, the which I can build vp: ſtrange is it that our bloods Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound diſtinction: yet ſtands off In differences ſo mightie. If ſhe bee All that is vertuous (ſaue what thou diſlik'ſt) A poore Phiſitians daughter, thou diſlik'ſt Of vertue for the name: but doe not ſo: From loweſt place, whence vertuous things proceed, The place is dignified by th' doers deede. Where great additions ſwell's, and vertue none, It is a dropſied honour. Good a lone, Is good without a name? Vileneſſe is ſo: The propertie by what is is, ſhould go, Not by the title. Shee is young, wiſe, faire, In theſe, to Nature ſhee's immediate heire: And theſe breed honour: that is honours ſcorne, Which challenges it ſelfe as honours borne, And is not like the fire: Honours thriue, When rather from our acts we them deriue Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a ſlaue Deboſh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue: A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe, Where duſt, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe. Of honour'd bones-indeed, what ſhould be ſaide? If thou canſt like this creature, as a maide, I can create the reſt: Vertue, and ſhee Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee. I cannot loue her, nor will ſtriue to doo't. Thou wrong'ſt thy ſelfe, if thou ſhold'ſt ſtriue to chooſe. That you are well reſtor'd my Lord, I'me glad: Let the reſt go. My Honor's at the ſtake, which to defeate I muſt produce my power. Heere, take her hand, Proud ſcornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift, That doſt in vile miſpriſion ſhackle vp My loue, and her deſert: that canſt not dreame, We poizing vs in her defectiue ſcale, Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know, It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where We pleaſe to haue it grow. Cheeke thy contempt: Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good: Beleeue not thy diſdaine, but preſentlie Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes, Or I will throw thee from my care for euer Into the ſtaggers, and the careleſſe lapſe Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate Looſing vpon thee, in the name of iuſtice, Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine anſwer.