Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1616 [Oct-Nov (?)] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and typicality 0.83 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
I have placed him With justice Eytherside, to get so much law— As thou hast conscience. Come, come, thou dost wrong Pretty Plutarch, who had not his name, For nothing: but was borne to train the youth Of London, in the military truth— That way his Genius lies. My Cousin Euerill! O, are you here, Sir? 'pray you let us whisper. Father, dear Father, trust him if you love me. Why, I do mean it, boy; but, what I do, Must not come easily from me: We must deal With Courtiers, boy, as Courtiers deal with us. If I have a Business there, with any of them, Why, I must wait, I'm sure on it, Son: and though My Lord dispatch me, yet his worshipful man— Will keep me for his sport, a month, or two, To show me with my fellow Citizens. I must make his train long, and full, one quarter; And help the spectacle of his greatness. There, Nothing is done at once, but injuries, boy: And they come headlong! all their good turns move not, Or very slowly Yet sweet father, trust him. Well, I will think. Come, you must do it, Sir. I'm undone else, and your Lady Tail-bush Has sent for me to dinner, and my cloaths Are all at pawn. I had sent out this morning, Before I heard you were come to town, some twenty Of my epistles, and no one return— Why, I ha' told you o' this. This comes of wearing Scarlet, gold lace, and cutworks! your fine gartering! With your blown roses, Cousin! and your eating Pheasant, and Godwit, here in London! haunting The Globes, and Mermaids! wedging in with Lords, Still at the table! and affecting lechery, In velvet! where could you ha' contented yourself With cheese, salt-butter, and a pickled herring, I' the Low-countrieses; there worn cloth, and fustian! Been satisfied with a leap o' your Host's daughter, In garrison, a wench of a stoter! or, Your Sutler's wife, i' the leaguer, of two blanks! You never, than, had run upon this flat, To writ your letters missive, and sand out Your privy seals, that thus have frighted of All your acquaintance; that they shun you at distance, Worse, than you do the Bailies! Pox upon you. I come not to you for counsel, I lack money. You do not think, what you own me already? I? They own you, that mean to pay you. I'll besworne, I never meant it. Come, you will project, I shall undo your practice, for this month else: You know me. I, ye are a right sweet nature! Well, that's all one! You'll leave this Empire, one day? You will not ever have this tribute paid, Your sceptre o' the sword? Tie up your wit, Do, and provoke me not— Will you, Sir, help, To what I shall provoke another for you?
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)
I haue plac'd him With Iuſtice Eytherſide, to get ſo much law— As thou haſt conſcience. Come, come, thou doſt wrong Pretty Plutarchus, who had not his name, For nothing: but was borne to traine the youth Of London, in the military truth— That way his Genius lies. My Couſin Euerill! O, are you heere, Sir? 'pray you let vs whiſper. Father, deare Father, truſt him if you loue mee. Why, I doe meane it, boy; but, what I doe, Muſt not come eaſily from mee: Wee muſt deale With Courtiers, boy, as Courtiers deale with vs. If I haue a Buſineſſe there, with any of them, Why, I muſt wait, I'am ſure on 't, Son: and though My Lord diſpatch me, yet his worſhipfull man— Will keepe me for his ſport, a moneth, or two, To ſhew mee with my fellow Cittizens. I muſt make his traine long, and full, one quarter; And helpe the ſpectacle of his greatneſſe. There, Nothing is done at once, but iniuries, boy: And they come head-long! all their good turnes moue not, Or very ſlowly Yet ſweet father, truſt him. VVell, I will thinke. Come, you muſt do 't, Sir. I'am vndone elſe, and your Lady Tayle-buſh Has ſent for mee to dinner, and my cloaths Are all at pawne. I had ſent out this morning, Before I heard you were come to towne, ſome twenty Of my epiſtles, and no one returne— VVhy, I ha' told you o' this. This comes of wearing Scarlet, gold lace, and cut-works! your fine gartring! VVith your blowne roſes, Couſin! and your eating Pheſant, and Godwit, here in London! haunting The Globes, and Mermaides! wedging in with Lords, Still at the table! and affecting lechery, In veluet! where could you ha' contented your ſelfe VVith cheeſe, ſalt-butter, and a pickled hering, I' the Low-countries; there worne cloth, and fuſtian! Beene ſatisfied with a leape o' your Hoſt's daughter, In garriſon, a wench of a ſtoter! or, Your Sutlers wife, i' the leaguer, of two blanks! You neuer, then, had runne vpon this flat, To write your letters miſſiue, and ſend out Your priuy ſeales, that thus haue frighted off All your acquintance; that they ſhun you at diſtance, VVorſe, then you do the Bailies! Pox vpon you. I come not to you for counſell, I lacke money. You doe not thinke, what you owe me already? I? They owe you, that meane to pay you. I'll beſworne, I neuer meant it. Come, you will proiect, I ſhall vndoe your practice, for this moneth elſe: You know mee. I, yo' are a right ſweet nature! Well, that's all one! You'll leaue this Empire, one day? You will not euer haue this tribute payd, Your ſcepter o' the ſword? Tye vp your wit, Doe, and prouoke me not— Will you, Sir, helpe, To what I ſhall prouoke another for you?