Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat typicality 0.77 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
O Father, you'll know more of that hereafter: Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's simple, and tells much. How now (fair shepherd) Your heart is full of something, that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, And handed love, as you do; I was wont To load my Shee with knacks: I would have ransacked The Pedlar's silken Treasury, and have poured it To her acceptance: you have let him go, And nothing matted with him. If your Lass Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lack of love, or bounty, you were straited For a reply at least, if you make a care Of happy holding her. Old Sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she looks from me, are packed and locked up in my heart, which I have given already, But not delivered. O hear me breathe my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seem) Hath sometime loved: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as Doves down, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the saned snow, that's bolted By th' Northern blasts, twice over. What follows this? How prettily th' young Swain seems to wash The hand, was fair before? I have put you out, But to your protestation: Let me hear What you profess. Do, and be witness too't. And this my neighbour too? And he, and more Than he, and men: the earth, the heavens, and all; That were I crowned the most Imperial Monarch Thereof most worthy: were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prise them Without her Love; for her, employ them all, Commend them, and condemn them to her service, Or to their own perdition. Fairly offered. This shows a sound affection. But my daughter, Say you the like to him. I cannot speak So well, (nothing so well) no, nor mean better By th' patterne of mine own thoughts, I cut out The purity of his. Take hands, a bargain; And friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her Portion, equal his. O, that must be I' th' Virtue of your daughter: One being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on, Contract us fore these Witnesses. Come, your hand: And daughter, yours. Soft Swain awhile, beseech you, Have you a Father? I have: but what of him? Knows he of this? He neither does, nor shall. Methinks a Father, Is at the Nuptial of his son, a guest That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid With Age, and altering Rheums? Can he speak? hear? Know man, from man? Dispute his own estate? Lies he not bedrid? And again, does nothing But what he did, being childish?
seed 43: T6 · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter: Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's ſimple, and tels much. How now (faire ſhepheard) Your heart is full of ſomething, that do's take Your minde from feaſting. Sooth, when I was yong, And handed loue, as you do; I was wont To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ranſackt The Pedlers ſilken Treaſury, and haue powr'd it To her acceptance: you haue let him go, And nothing matted with him. If your Laſſe Interpretation ſhould abuſe, and call this Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were ſtraited For a reply at leaſt, if you make a care Of happie holding her. Old Sir, I know She prizes not ſuch trifles as theſe are: The gifts ſhe lookes from me, are packt and lockt Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already, But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it ſhould ſeeme) Hath ſometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As ſoft as Doues downe, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the ſan'd ſnow, that's bolted By th' Northerne blaſts, twice ore. What followes this? How prettily th' yong Swaine ſeemes to waſh The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out, But to your proteſtation: Let me heare What you profeſſe. Do, and be witneſſe too't. And this my neighbour too? And he, and more Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all; That were I crown'd the moſt Imperiall Monarch Thereof moſt worthy: were I the fayreſt youth That euer made eye ſwerue, had force and knowledge More then was euer mans, I would not prize them Without her Loue; for her, employ them all, Commend them, and condemne them to her ſeruice, Or to their owne perdition. Fairely offer'd. This ſhewes a ſound affection. But my daughter, Say you the like to him. I cannot ſpeake So well, (nothing ſo well) no, nor meane better By th' parerne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out The puritie of his. Take hands, a bargaine; And friends vnknowne, you ſhall beare witneſſe to't: I giue my daughter to him, and will make Her Portion, equall his. O, that muſt bee I' th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead, I ſhall haue more then you can dreame of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on, Contract vs fore theſe Witneſſes. Come, your hand: And daughter, yours. Soft Swaine a-while, beſeech you, Haue you a Father? I haue: but what of him? Knowes he of this? He neither do's, nor ſhall. Me-thinkes a Father, Is at the Nuptiall of his ſonne, a gueſt That beſt becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father growne incapeable Of reaſonable affayres? Is he not ſtupid With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he ſpeake? heare? Know man, from man? Diſpute his owne eſtate? Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing But what he did, being childiſh?