Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Jan 19] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
You have, my Lord. But laws of hospitality, and fair rites, Would have made me acquainted. I' your own house, I do acknowledge: Else, I much had trespassed. But in an Inn, and public, where there is licence Of all community: a pardon o' course May be sued out. It will, my Lord, and carry it. I do not see, how any storm, or tempest Can help it, now. The thing being done, and past, You bear it wisely, and like a Lady of judgement. She is that, secretary Pru. Why secretary? My wise Lord? is your brain lately married? Your reign is ended, Pru, no sovereign now: Your date is out, and dignity expired. I am annulled, how can I treat with Lovel, Without a new commission? Thy gown's commission. Have patience, Pru, expect, bid the Lord joy. And this brave Lady too. I wish them joy. joy. jour. joy. jug. All joy. ay, the house full of joy. Play the bells, Fiddlers, crack your strings with joy. But Lady Letice, you showed a neglect Un-to-be-pardoned, towards my Lady, your kinswoman, Not to advise with her. Good politic Pru, Urge not your state-advice, your afterwit; 'Tis near upbraiding. Get our bed ready, Chamberlain, And Host, a Bride-cup, you have rare conceits, And good ingredients, ever an old Host upo' the road, has his provocative drinks. He is either a good bawd, or a Physician. 'Twas well he heard you not, his back was turned. A bed, the Genial bed, a brace of boys tonight I play for. Give us points, my Lord. Here take 'em, Pru, my codpiece point, and all, I ha' clasps, my Letice armes here take 'em boys. What is the chamber ready? speak, why stare you! On one another? No Sir. And why no? My master has forbid it. He yet doubts That you are married. Ask his vicar general, His Fly, here. I must make that good, they are married. But I must make it bad, my hot young Lord. Gi' him his doublet again, the air is piercing; You may take cold, my Lord. See whom you ha'married, Your host's son, and a boy. You are abused. Much joy, my Lord. If this be your Latitia, she'll prove a counterfeit mirth, and a clipped Lady. A boy, a boy; my Lord has married a boy. Raise all the house in shout, and laughter, a boy! Stay, what is here! peace rascals, stop your throats. That maggot, worm, that insect! O my child, My daughter! where's that Fly? I'll fly in his face, The vermin, let me come to him. Why Nurse Shelee? Hang thee thou Parasite, thou son of crumbs, And orts, thou hast undone me, and my child, My daughter, my dear daughter. What means this? O Sir, my daughter, my dear child is ruined, By this your Fly, here, married in a stable, And sold unto a husband. Stint thy cry, Harlot, if that be all, didst thou not sell him To me for a boy? and brought'st him in boys' rags, Here to my door, to beg an alms of me?
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)
You haue, my Lord. But lawes of hospitality, and faire rites, Would haue made me acquainted. I' your owne house, I doe acknowledge: Else, I much had trespass'd. But in an Inne, and publique, where there is licence Of all community: a pardon o' course May be su'd out. It will, my Lord, and carry it. I doe not see, how any storme, or tempest Can helpe it, now. The thing being done, and past, You beare it wisely, and like a Lady of iudgement. She is that, secretary Pru. Why secretary? My wise Lord? is your braine lately maried? Your raigne is ended, Pru, no soueraigne now: Your date is out, and dignity expir'd. I am annul'd, how can I treat with Lovel, Without a new commission? Thy gown's commission. Haue patience, Pru, expect, bid the Lord ioy. And this braue Lady too. I wish them ioy. Ioy. Ior. Ioy. Iug. All ioy. I, the house full of ioy. Play the bels, Fidlers, crack your strings with ioy. But Lady Letice, you shew'd a neglect Vn-to-be-pardon'd, to'ards my Lady, your kinswoman, Not to advise with her. Good politique Pru, Vrge not your state-aduice, your after-wit; 'Tis neare vpbraiding. Get our bed ready, Chamberlain, And Host, a Bride-cup, you haue rare conceipts, And good ingredients, euer an old Host Vpo' the road, has his prouocatiue drinks. He is either a good Baud, or a Phyfician. 'Twas well he heard you not, his back was turn'd. A bed, the Geniall bed, a brace of boyes To night I play for. Giue vs points, my Lord. Here take 'hem, Pru, my cod-piece point, and all, I ha' claspes, my Letice ames here take 'hem boyes. What is the chamber ready? speake, why stare you! On one another? No Sir. And why no? My master has forbid it. He yet doubts That you are married. Aske his vicar generall, His Fly, here. I must make that good, they are married. But I must make it bad, my hot yong Lord. Gi' him his doublet againe, the aier is peircing; You may take cold, my Lord. See whom you ha'married, Your hosts sonne, and aboy. You are abus'd. Much ioy, my Lord. If this be your Latitia, Shee'l prue a counterfeit mirth, and a clip'd Lady. A boy, a boy; my Lord has married a boy. Raise all the house in shout, and laughter, a boy! Stay, what is here! peace rascals, stop your throats. That magot, worme, that insect! O my child, My daughter! where's that Fly? Ile fly in his face, The ermin, let me come to him. Why Nurse Shele? Hang thee thou Parasite, thou sonne of crums, And ottes, thou hast vndone me, and my child, My daughter, my dare daughter. What meanes this? O Sir, my daughter, my deare child is tuin'd, By this your Fly, here, married in a stable, And sold vnto a husband. Stint thy cry, Harlot, if that be all, did'st thou not sell him To me for a boy? and brought'st him in boyes rags, Here to my doore, to beg an almes of me?