The School of Compliment (Love Tricks) · chunk 28 of 44
Shirley, James · published 1631 · first performed or written 1625 [licensed for stage, Feb 11] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
To ratify an ancient vow I made. Any vows, what is't? I vowed whenever I married, my husband should not lie with me the first night. Should anybody else? Not any man. Come, 'twas a foolish vow, and must be broke. Not lie with me the first night? 'twere a sin beyond incontinency. I had rather lose half my estate, then miss thee but an hour out of mine arms this night. 'Tis but one night. Oh, 'tis an age, a world of time to me: why I have fed of oyster-pies, and rumps of Sparrows a whole month, in expectation of the first night, and leave it for a vow? Indeed you must. How? must, come? I know you do but jest, this is but your device to whet me on, and heighten me, as if old age at once hath soaked up all my marrow. Hark you, how old do ye think I am? Some threescore and seventeen. Out upon thy judgement: why I am not above, by all computation, six or seven and thirty: I am restored, renewed, when first I loved thee, by this hand I was. I see than you would tire me, by this beard you must not lie with me tonight. How? nay then I see you'll try my strength: thus I could force you. She has thrown me down, I know not how to take it, nor well how to bear it, my bones ache, a pox a Gasparo, a my conscience I am an old fool: ha? I will see more, and set a good face on't, you know who I am? Yes, old Rufaldo. Ha, old? 'tis so, my spirits faint again: what did you marry for? To make an ass of you. How? Thou credulous fool, Didst thou imagine I should ever love thee, Or lie with thee? but when I have a child Would shame the Father: Oh the power of dotage, That like an inundation doth o'ercome The little world of man, drown all his reason, And leave him spoilt, even of his common sense. Didst think I was a piece of stone sawn out By carver's art, so cold, so out of soul, So empty of all fire to warm my blood, I'd lie with thee, worse than the frigid Zone, Or icicles that hang on beard of winter? Have I with wearied patience looked to see, When thou'dst lay violent hands upon thyself; For being so mad, so impudent to love me, And wouldst thou bed me too? didst thou not tremble To dare the holy Rites and nuptial Tapers? Oh impious sacrilege! hence, go waste thyself with sorrow, pine that half-starved body, Until thy bones break thy skin, and fall To dust before thy face: nay, you shall endure me: For since y'ave tied me to you, I will be Thy constant Fury, worse than Hags or Nightmare, If thou dost talk of Love, or seek to be At reconcilement.
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)
To ratifie an ancient vow I made. Any vowes, what is't? I vowed when euer I married, my husband should not lie with me the first night. Should any body else? Not any man. Come, 'twas a foolish vow, and must bee broke. Not lie with me the first night? 'twere a sinne beyond incontinency. I had rather lose halfe my estate, then misse thee but an houre out of mine armes this night. 'Tis but one night. Oh, 'tis an age, a world of time to me: why I haue fed of Oister-pyes, and rumps of Sparrows a whole moneth, in expectation of the first night, and leaue it for a vow? Indeed you must. How? must, come? I know you doe but iest, this is but your deuice to whet me on, and heighten me, as if old age at once hath soakt vp all my marrow. Harke you, how old doe yee thinke I am? Some threescore and seuenteene. Out vpon thy iudgement: why I am not aboue, by all computation, sixe or seuen and thirty: I am restord, renewd, when first I lou'd thee, by this hand I was. I see then you would tire me, by this beard you must not lie with me to night. How? nay then I see you'l try my strength: thus I could force you. She has throwne me downe, I know not how to take it, nor well how to beare it, my bones ake, a pox a Gasparo, a my conscience I am an old foole: ha? I will see more, and set a good face on't, you know who I am? Yes, old Rufaldo. Ha, old? 'tis so, my spirits faint agen: what did you marry for? To make an asse of you. How? Thou credulous foole, Didst thou imagine I should euer loue thee, Or lie with thee? but when I haue a child Would shame the Father: Oh the power of dotage, That like an inundation doth o'recome The little world of man, drowne all his reason, And leaue him spoild, euen of his common sence. Didst thinke I was a piece of stone sawne out By Caruers art, so cold, so out of soule, So empty of all fire to warme my blood, I'de lie with thee, worse then the frigid Zone, Or Isicles that hang on beard of winter? Haue I with wearied patience lookt to see, When thou'dst lay violent hands vpon thy selfe; For being so mad, so impudent to loue me, And wouldst thou bed me too? didst thou not tremble To dare the holy Rites and nuptiall Tapers? Oh impious sacriledge! hence, goe waste Thy selfe with sorrow, pine that halfe-staru'd body, Vntill thy bones breake thy skinne, and fall To dust before thy face: nay, you shall endure me: For since y'aue tyed me to you, I will be Thy constant Fury, worse then Hags or Night-mare, If thou dost talke of Loue, or seeke to be At reconcilement.