Middleton, Thomas · published 1630 · first performed or written 1613 (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Swan T13 Knights, squires and ladies typicality 0.79 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
The Knights proved Villain, all's come out now, his Niece an arrant Baggage, My poor Boy Tim, is cast away this morning, Even before Breakfast: Married a Whore Next to his Heart. A Whore? His Niece forsooth. I think we rid our Hands in good time of him. I knew he was past the best, when I gave him over. What is become of him pray Sir? Who the Knight? he lies i'th' Knights ward now. Your Belly Lady begins to blossom, there's no peace for him His Creditors are so greedy. Mr Tuchwood, hear'st thou this news? I am so endeared to thee for my wife's fruitfulness, That I charge you both, your Wife and thee, To live no more asunder for the World's frowns, I have Purse, and Bed, and Board for you: Be not afraid to go to your business roundly, Get Children, and I'll keep them. Say you so Sir? Prove me, with three at a birth, & thou dar'st now. Take heed how you dare a Man, while you live Sir That has good skill at his Weapon. 'Foot, I dare you Sir. Look Gentlemen, if ever you say the picture Of the unfortunate Marriage, yonder 'tis. Nay good sweet Tim. Come from the University, To marry a Whore in London, with my Tutor too? O Tempora! O Mors! Prithee Tim be patient. I bought a jade at Cambridge, I'll let her out to execution Tutor, For eighteen pence a day, or Brainford Horseraces, She'll serve to carry seven Miles out of Town well. Where be these Mountains? I was promised Mountains, But there's such a Mist, I can see none of 'em. What are become of those two thousand Runts? Let's have about with them in the mean time. A Vengeance Runt thee. Good sweet Tim have patience. Flectere si neguro Superos Acheronta mourbo, mother I think you have married her in Logic Tim. You told me once, by Logic you would prove A Whore, an honest Woman, prove her so Tim And take her for thy labour. Troth I thank you. I grant you I may prove another Man's Wife so, But not mine own. There's no remedy now Tim, You must prove her so as well as you may. Why then my Tutor and I will about her, As well as we can. Uxor non est Meritrix, ergo falacis. Sir if your Logic cannot prove me honest, There's a thing called Marriage, and that makes me honest. O there's a trick beyond your Logic Tim. I perceive then a Woman may be honest according to the English Print, when she is a Whore in the Latin. So much for Marriage and Logic. I'll love her for her Wit, I'll pick out my Runts there: And for my Mountains, I'll mount upon— So Fortune seldom deals two Marriages With one Hand, and both lucky: The best is, One Feast will serve them both: Marry for room, I'll have the Dinner kept in Goldsmiths-Hall, To which kind Gallants, I invite you all.
seed 43: T20 · seed 44: T17 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Knights prou'd Villaine, Al's come out now, his Neece an arrant Baggage, My poore Boy Tim, is caſt away this morning, Euen before Breakefaſt: Married a Whore Next to his Heart. A Whore? His Neece forſooth. I thinke we rid our Hands in good time of him. I knew he was paſt the beſt, when I gaue him ouer. What is become of him pray Sir? Who the Knight? he lies i'th' Knights ward now. Your Belly Lady begins to bloſſom, ther's no peace for him His Creditors are ſo greedy. Mr Tuchwood, hear'ſt thou this newes? I am ſo indeer'd to thee for my Wiues fruitfulneſſe, That I charge you both, your Wife and thee, To liue no more aſunder for the Worlds frownes, I haue Purſe, and Bed, and Bord for you: Be not afraid to goe to your buſineſſe roundly, Get Children, and I'le keepe them. Say you ſo Sir? Proue me, with three at a birth, & thou dar'ſt now. Take heed how you dare a Man, while you liue Sir That has good skill at his Weapon. 'Foot, I dare you Sir. Looke Gentlemen, if euer you ſay the picture Of the vnfortunate Marriage, yonder 'tis. Nay good ſweet Tim. Come from the Vniuerſitie, To marry a Whore in London, with my Tutor too? O Tempora! O Mors! Prethee Tim be pacient. I bought a Iade at Cambridge, I'e let her out to execution Tutor, For eighteene pence a day, or Brainford Horſe-races, She'le ſerue to carrie ſeuen Miles out of Towne well. Where be theſe Mountaines? I was promis'd Mountaines, But there's ſuch a Miſt, I can ſee none of 'em. What are become of thoſe two thouſand Runts? Let's haue about with them in the meane time. A Vengeance Runt thee. Good ſweet Tim haue patience. Flectere ſi neguro Superos Acherouta mourbo, mother I thinke you haue maried her in Logicke Tim. You told me once, by Logicke you would proue A Whore, an honeſt Woman, proue her ſo Tim And take her for thy labour. Troth I thanke you. I grant you I may proue another Mans Wife ſo, But not mine owne. There's no remedy now Tim, You muſt proue her ſo as well as you may. Why then my Tutor and I will about her, As well as we can. Ʋxor non eſt Meritrix, ergo falacis. Sir if your Logicke cannot proue me honeſt, There's a thing call'd Marriage, and that makes me honeſt. O there's a tricke beyond your Logicke Tim. I perceiue then a Woman may be honeſt according to the Engliſh Print, when ſhe is a Whore in the Latine. So much for Marriage and Logicke. I'le loue her for her Wit, I'le picke out my Runts there: And for my Mountaines, I'le mount vpon — So Fortune ſeldome deales two Marriages With one Hand, and both lucky: The beſt is, One Feaſt will ſerue them both: Marry for roome, I'le haue the Dinner kept in Gold-Smithes-Hall, To which kind Gallants, I inuite you all.