Middleton, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1613 (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Swan unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
How does he, ere I look on't? Seldom better, h'as a contented health now. I am most glad on't. Dead Sir? He is: Now Wife let's but get the Girl Upon her Legs again, and to Church roundly with her. O sick to Death he tells me: How does he after this? Faith feels no pain at all, he's dead sweet Mistress. Peace close mine Eyes. The Girl, look to the Girl Wife. Moll, Daughter, sweet Girl speak, Look but once up, thou shalt have all the wishes of thy heart That wealth can purchase. O she's gone for ever, that Letter broke her heart. As good now then, as let here lie in torment, And then break it. O Susan, she thou lovedst so dear, is gone. O sweet Maid! This is she that helped her still, I've a reward here for thee Take her in, Remove her from our sight, our shame, and sorrow. Stay, let me help thee, 'tis the last cold kindness I can perform for my sweet Brother's sake. All the whole Street will hate us, and the World Point me out cruel: It is our best course Wife, After we have given order for the Funeral, To absent ourselves, till she be laid in ground. Where shall we spend that time? I'll tell thee where Wench, go to some private Church, And marry Tim to the rich Brecknock Gentlewoman. Mass a match, We'll not lose all at once, somewhat we'll catch. Ho my Wives quickened, I am a Man for ever, I think I have bestirred my stumps i'faith: Run, get your Fellows altogether instantly, Then to the Parish-Church, and ring the Bells. It shall be done Sir. Upon my love I charge you Villain, that you make a Bonfire before the Door at night. A Bonfire Sir? A thwacking one I charge you. This is monstrous. Run, tell a hundred pound out for the Gentleman That gave my Wife the Drink, the first thing you do. A hundred pounds' Sir? A bargain, as our joys grows, We must remember still from whence it flows, Or else we prove ungrateful multipliers: The Child is coming, and the Land comes after, The news of this will make a poor Sir Walter. I have struck it home i'faith. That you have marry Sir. But will not your Worship go to the Funeral Of both these Lovers? Both, go both together? I Sir, the Gentleman's Brother will have it so, 'Twill be the pitifullest sight, there's such running, Such rumours, and such throngs, a pair of Lovers Had never more spectators, more Men's pities, Or Women's wet Eyes. My Wife helps the number then? There's such drawing out of Handkerchers, And those that have no Handkerchers, lift up Aprons. Her Parents may have joyful Hearts at this, I would not have my cruelty so talked on, To any Child of mine, for a Monopoly. I believe you Sir. 'Tis cast so too, that both their Coffins meet, Which will be lamentable.
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)
How does he, ere I looke on't? Seldome better, h'as a contented health now. I am moſt glad on't. Dead Sir? He is: Now Wife let's but get the Gerle Vpon her Legges againe, and to Church roundly with her. O ſicke to Death he telles me: How does he after this? Faith feeles no paine at all, he's dead ſweet Miſtris. Peace cloſe mine Eyes. The Girle, looke to the Girle Wife. Moll, Daughter, ſweet Girle ſpeake, Look but once vp, thou ſhalt haue all the wiſhes of thy hart That wealth can purchaſe. O ſhe's gone for euer, that Letter broake her hart. As good now then, as let here lye in torment, And then breake it. O Suſan, ſhe thou louedſt ſo deere, is gone. O ſweet Mayd! This is ſhe that help't her ſtill, I'ue a reward here for thee Take her in, Remoue her from our ſight, our ſhame, and ſorrow. Stay, let me helpe thee, 'tis the laſt cold kindneſſe I can performe for my ſweet Brothers ſake. All the whole Street will hate vs, and the World Point me out cruell: It is our beſt courſe Wife, After we haue giuen order for the Funerall, To abſent our ſelues, till ſhe be layd in ground. Where ſhall we ſpend that time? I'le tell thee where Wench, goe to ſome priuate Church, And marry Tim to the rich Brecknocke Gentlewoman. Maſſe a match, We'le not looſe all at once, ſome-what we'le catch. Ho my Wiues quickned, I am a Man for euer, I thinke I haue beſtur'd my ſtumps I faith: Run, get your Fellowes altogether inſtantly, Then to the Pariſh-Church, and ring the Belles. It ſhall be done Sir. Vpon my loue I charge you Villaine, that you make a Bon-fier before the Doore at night. A Bon-fier Sir? A thwacking one I charge you. This is monſtrous. Run, tell a hundred pound out for the Gentleman That gaue my Wife the Drinke, the firſt thing you doe. A hundred pounds Sir? A bargaine, as our ioyes growes, We muſt remember ſtill from whence it flowes, Or elſe we proue vngratefull multiplyers: The Child is comming, and the Land comes after, The newes of this will make a poore Sr Walter. I haue ſtrooke it home I faith. That you haue marry Sir. But will not your Worſhip goe to the Funerall Of both theſe Louers? Both, goe both together? I Sir, the Gentlemans Brother will haue it ſo, 'Twill be the pittifulleſt ſight, there's ſuch running, Such rumours, and ſuch throngs, a paire of Louers Had neuer more ſpectators, more Mens pitties, Or Womens wet Eyes. My Wife helpes the number then? There's ſuch drawing out of Handkerchers, And thoſe that haue no Handkerchers, lift vp Aprons. Her Parents may haue ioyfull Hearts at this, I would not haue my crueltie ſo talk't on, To any Child of mine, for a Monopoly. I beleeue you Sir. 'Tis caſt ſo too, that both their Coffins meet, Which will be lamentable.