The Spanish Bawd (Calisto and Meliboea) (Celestina) · chunk 52 of 205
Mabbe, James / Rojas, Fernando de · published 1631 · first performed or written 1631 (Annals) tragicomedy; literary play unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
madam, there is no need of pardon, where there is no fault committed. Ioue pardon you, and I do. For I thank you, you have left me here with very good company. Ioue grant she may long enjoy her noble youth, and this her flourishing prime; a time wherein more pleasures and delights are found, then in this old decay. Carcase of mine, which is nothing else but a very Spittle-house of diseases, an Inn full of infirmities, a Storehouse, or Magazine of sad and melancholy thoughts, a friend to brangling and brawling, a continual grief, and incurable plague: pitying that which is past, punished in that which is present: and full of wretched care in that which is to come: A near neighbour unto death; a poor cabin, without one bough of shelter, whereinto it rains on all sides; a stick of Willow; a staff of weak Osiers, which is doubled with any the least stress you put it to. Tell me (mother) why do you speak so ill of that, which the whole world so earnestly desireth to enjoy and see? They desire so much their more hurt; they desire so much their more grief; they desire to live to be old; because by living to be old, they live. And life (you know) is sweet; and living, they come to be old. Hence is it, that your children desire to be men; and your men to be old men; and your old men, to be more and more old; and though they live in never so much pain, yet do they still desire to live. For, (as it is in the Proverb) Fain would the Hen live, for all her pip; she would not be put out of her life, to be put out of her pain. But who is he (Lady) that can recount unto you the inconveniences of old age? The discommodities it brings with it? its torments, its cares, its troubles, its infirmities, its colds, its heats, its discontentments, its brawls, its janglings, its griefs, which like so many weights lie heavy upon it? Those deep furrows and deep wrinkles in the face? That change and alteration in the hair? That fading of fresh and lively colour? That want of hearing? That weakness of sight? That hollowness in the eyes? Seeing, as if they were shut up in a shade? That sinking and falling of the jaws? That toothlessness of the gums? That failingness of force and of strength? That feebleness of legs? That slowness in feeding? Besides, (madam) which makes me sigh to think upon it, when all these miseries I have told you of, come accompanied with poverty, all sorrows to this must stoop and strike sail, when the appetite shall be great, and the provision small; The stomach good, and the diet nought; For I never knew any worse habit, than that of hunger.
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)
Madame, there is no neede of pardon, where there is no fault committed. Ioue pardon you, and I doe. For I thanke you, you haue left mee heere with very good company. Ioue grant shee may long enioy her noble youth, and this her flourishing prime; a time wherein more pleasures and delights are found, then in this old decaye. Carkasse of mine, which is nothing else but a very Spittle-house of diseases, an Inne full of infirmities, a Store-house, or Magazine of sad and melancholy thoughts, a friend to brangling and brawling, a continuall griefe, and incurable plague: pittying that which is past, punished in that which is present: and full of wretched care in that which is to come: A neere neighbour vnto death; a poore Cabbin, without one bough of shelter, whereinto it raynes on all sides; a sticke of Willow; a staffe of weake Osiers, which is doubled with any the least stresse you put it to. Tell me (mother) why doe you speake so ill of that, which the whole world so earnestly desireth to enioy and see? They desire so much their more hurt; they desire so much their more griefe; they desire to liue to be old; because by liuing to be old, they liue. And life (you know) is sweete; and liuing, they come to be old. Hence is it, that your children desire to be men; and your men to be old men; and your old men, to be more and more old; and though they liue in neuer so much paine, yet doe they still desire to liue. For, (as it is in the Prouerbe) Faine would the Henne liue, for all her pip; she would not be put out of her life, to be put out of her paine. But who is hee (Lady) that can recount vnto you the inconueniences of old age? The discommodities it brings with it? it's torments, it's cares, it's troubles, it's infirmities, it's colds, it's heates, it's discontentments, it's brawles, it's janglings, it's griefes, which like so many weights lye heauy vpon it? Those deepe furrows and deepe wrinkles in the face? That change and alteration in the hayre? That fading of fresh and liuely colour? That want of hearing? That weaknesse of sight? That hollownesse in the eyes? Seeing, as if they were shut vp in a shade? That sinking and falling of the iawes? That toothlesnesse of the gummes? That failingnesse of force and of strength? That feeblenesse of legs? That slownesse in feeding? Besides, (Madame) which makes mee sigh to thinke vpon it, when all these miseries I haue told you of, come accompanied with pouerty, all sorrowes to this must stoope and strike saile, when the appetite shall be great, and the prouision small; The stomack good, and the dyet naught; For I neuer knew any worse habit, then that of hunger.