Ford, John · published 1629 · first performed or written 1628 [licensed for stage, Nov 24] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens typicality 0.88 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
Cleophyla, although these blacker clouds Of sadness, thicken and make dark the sky Of thy fair eyes, yet give me leave to follow The stream of my affections: they are pure, Without all mixture of unnoble thoughts. Can you be ever mine? I am so low In mine own fortunes, and my Father woes, That I want words to tell ye, you deserve A worthier choice. But give me leave to hope. My friend is serious. Sir, this for answer: If I ever thrive In an earthly happiness, the next To my good Fathers wisht recovery, Must be my thankfulness to your great merit; Which I dare promise for the present time: You cannot urge more from me. Ho, Cleophyla? This Gentleman is moved. Your eyes, Parthenophill, Are guilty of some passion. Friend, what ails thee? All is not well within me, Sir. Meleander within. Cleophyla? Sweet Maid, forget me not; we now must part. Still you shall have my prayer. Still you my truth. do not I look freshly, and like a Youth of the Trim? As rare an old Youth as ever walked cross-gartered. Here are my mistresses mustered in white and black. Kala the Waiting-woman. I will first begin at the soot: stand thou for Kala. I stand for Kala, do your best and your worst. I must look big, and care little or nothing for her, because she is a creature that stands at livery. Thus I talk wisely, and to no purpose. Wench, as it is not fit that thou shouldst be either fair or honest; so considering thy service, thou art as thou art, and so are thy betters, let them be what they can be. Thus in despite and defiance of all thy good parts, if I cannot endure thy baseness, 'tis more out of thy courtesy, than my deserving, and so I expect thy answer. I must confess— Well said. You are— That's true too. To speak you right, a very scurvy fellow.— Away, away, dost think so? A very foul-mouthed, and misshapen Coxcomb I'll never believe it by this hand. A maggot, most unworthy to creep in— To the least wrinkle of a Gentlewoman's (What d''ee call) good conceit, or so, or what You will else.— Were you not refined by Courtship And education, which in my blear eyes Makes you appear as sweet as any nosegay, Or savoury cod of Musk new fallen from th'Cat. This shall serve well enough for the Waiting-woman. My next Mistress is Cleophyla, the old madman's daughter: I must come to her in whining tune, sigh, wipe mine eyes, fold my Arms, and blubber out my speech as thus: Even as a Kennel of Hounds (sweet Lady) cannot catch a Hare, when they are full paunched on the Carrion of a dead Horse: so, even so the gorge of my affections being full crammed with the garboils of your condolements, doth tickle me with the prick (as it were) about me, and fellow-feeling of howling outright. This will do't, if we will hear.
seed 43: T56 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Cleophyla, although these blacker clouds Of sadnes, thicken and make darke the sky Of thy faire eyes, yet giue me leaue to follow The streame of my affections: they are pure, Without all mixture of vnnoble thoughts. Can you be euer mine? I am so low In mine owne fortunes, and my Father woes, That I want words to tell yee, you deserue A worthier choice. But giue me leaue to hope. My friend is serious. Sir, this for answer: If I euer thriue In an earthly happinesse, the next To my good Fathers wisht recouery, Must be my thankfulnesse to your great merit; Which I dare promise for the present time: You cannot vrge more from me. Ho, Cleophyla? This Gentleman is moou'd. Your eyes, Parthenophill, Are guilty of some passion. Friend, what ailes thee? All is not well within me, Sir. Meleander within. Cleophyla? Sweet Maid, forget me not; we now must part. Still you shall haue my prayer. Still you my truth. DOe not I looke freshly, and like a Youth of the Trim? As rare an old Youth as euer walkt crosse-gartered. Here are my Mistrisses mustred in white and blacke. Kala the Waiting-woman. I will first begin at the soote: stand thou for Kala. I stand for Kala, doe your best and your worst. I must looke bigge, and care little or nothing for her, because shee is a creature that stands at liuery. Thus I talke wisely, and to no purpose. Wench, as it is not fit that thou should'st be either faire or honest; so considering thy seruice, thou art as thou art, and so are thy betters, let them bee what they can bee. Thus in despite and defiance of all thy good parts, if I cannot indure thy basenesse, tis more out of thy courtesie, then my deseruing, and so I expect thy answer. I must confesse— Well said. You are— That's true too. To speake you right, a very scuruy fellow.— Away, away, do'st thinke so? A very foule-mouth'd, and misshapen Cockscombe Ile neuer beleeue it by this hand. A Magot, most vnworthy to creepe in— —To the least wrinckle of a Gentlewomans (What d'ee call) good conceit, or so, or what You will else.—Were you not refin'd by Courtship And education, which in my bleare eyes Makes you appeare as sweet as any nosegay, Or sauory cod of Muske new fall'n from th'Cat. This shall serue well enough for the Waiting-woman. My next Mistris is Cleophyla, the old mad-mans daughter: I must come to her in whining tune, sigh, wipe mine eyes, fold my Armes, and blubber out my speech as thus: Euen as a Kennell of Hounds (sweet Lady) cannot catch a Hare, when they are full pauncht on the Carrion of a dead Horse: so, euen so the gorge of my affections being full cramm'd with the garboyles of your condolements, doth tickle me with the prick (as it were) about mee, and fellow-feeling of howling outright. This will doo't, if we will heare.