Ford, John · published 1629 · first performed or written 1628 [licensed for stage, Nov 24] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin typicality 0.83 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
I would I could as easily remove Sadness from your remembrance, Sir, as study To do you faithful service— my dear Cousin, All best of comforts bless your sweet obedience. One chief of 'em (worthy Cousin) lives In you, and your well-doing. This young stranger Will well deserve your knowledge. For my friend's sake, Lady pray give him welcome. He has met it, if sorrows can look kindly. You much honour me. How a eyes the company: sure my passion will betray my weakness— O my Master, my Noble Master, do not forget me, I am still the humblest, and the most faithful in heart of those that serve you. Ha, ha, ha. There's wormwood in that laughter, 'tis the usher to a violent extremity. I am a weak old man. All these are come To jeer my ripe calamities. Good Uncle! But I'll outstare 'ee all, fools, desperate fools, You are cheated, grossly cheated, range, range on, And roll about the world to gather moss, The moss of honour, gay reports, gay clothes, Gay wives, huge empty buildings, whose proud roofs, Shall with their pinnacles, even reach the stars. Ye work and work like Moles, blind in the paths, That are bored through the crannies of the earth, To charge your hungry souls with such full surfeits, As being gorged once, make 'ee lean with plenty. And when ye have skimmed the vomit of your riots, You're fat in no felicity but folly, Than your last sleeps seize on 'ee. Then the troops Of worms crawl round, &, feast, good cheer, rich fare, Dainty delicious— here's Chleophyla: All the poor stock of my remaining thrift; You, you, the PRINCE's Cousin: how d''ee like her? (Amethus) how d''ee like her? My intents are just and honourable. Sir, believe him. Take her.— we two must part, go to him, do. This sight is full of horror. This is sense yet in this distraction. In this jewel I have given away, All what I can call mine. When I am dead, Save charge; let me be buried in a nook. No guns, no pompous whining: these are fooleries. If whiles we live, we stalk about the streets, justled by Carmen, Foot-posts, and fine Apes, In silken coats, unminded, and scarce thought on; It is not comely to be haled to the earth, Like high fed jades upon a Tilting-day, In antique trappings: scorn to useless tears. Eroclea was not coffined so: she perished, And no eye dropped save mine, and I am childish. I talk like one that dotes; laugh at me, Rhetias, Or rail at me: they will not give me meat: They have starved me: but I'll henceforth be mine own Cook. Good morrow: 'tis too early for my cares To revel. I will break my heart a little, And tell ye more hereafter. Pray be merry. I'll follow him. My Lord Amethus, use your time Respectively. Few words to purpose soonest prevail: Study no long Orations; be plain and short, I'll follow him.
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)
I would I could as easily remoue Sadnesse from your remembrance, Sir, as study To doe you faithfull seruice—my deare Cousin, All best of comforts blesse your sweet obedience. One chiefe of 'em (worthy Cousin) liues In you, and your well-doing. This young stranger Will well deserue your knowledge. For my friends sake, Lady pray giue him welcome. He has met it, if sorrowes can looke kindly. You much honour me. How a eyes the company: sure my passion will betray my weakenesse—O my Master, my Noble Master, doe not forget me, I am still the humblest, and the most faithfull in heart of those that serue you. Ha, ha, ha. There's wormewood in that laughter, tis the vsher to a violent extremity. I am a weake old man. All these are come To ieere my ripe calamities. Good Vncle! But Ile out-stare 'ee all, fooles, desperate fooles, You are cheated, grossely cheated, range, range on, And rowle about the world to gather mosse, The mosse of honour, gay reports, gay clothes, Gay wiues, huge empty buildings, whose proud roofes, Shall with their pinacles, euen reach the starres. Ye worke and worke like Moles, blind in the paths, That are bor'd through the crannies of the earth, To charge your hungry soules with such full surfets, As being gorg'd once, make 'ee leane with plenty. And when ye haue skimd the vomit of your riots, Y'are fat in no felicity but folly, Then your last sleepes seize on 'ee. Then the troopes Of wormes crawle round, &, feast, good cheare, rich fare, Dainty delicious—here's Cleophyl : All the poore stocke of my remaining thrift; You, you, the Princes Cousin: how d'ee like her? (Amethus) how d'ee like her? My intents are iust and honourable. Sir, beleeue him. Take her.—we two must part, go to him, doe. This sight is full of horror. This is sence yet in this distraction. In this Iewell I haue giuen away, All what I can call mine. When I am dead, Saue charge; let me be buried in a nooke. No guns, no pompous whining: these are fooleries. If whiles we liue, we stalke about the streets, Iustled by Carmen, Foot-poasts, and fine Apes, In silken coates, vnminded, and scarce thought on; It is not comely to be hal'd to the earth, Like high fed lades vpon a Tilting-day, In antique trappings: scorne to vse-lesse teares. Eroclea was not coffind so: she perisht, And no eye dropt saue mine, and I am childish. I talke like one that doates; laugh at me, Rhetias, Or raile at me: they will not giue me meate: They haue staru'd me: but Ile henceforth be mine owne Cook. Good morrow: tis too early for my cares To reuell. I will breake my heart a little, And tell yee more hereafter. Pray be merry. Ile follow him. My Lord Amethus, vse your time Respectiuely. Few words to purpose soon'st preuaile: Study no long Orations; be plaine and short, Ile follow him.