A New Wonder, A Woman Never Vexed · chunk 40 of 45
Heywood, Thomas / Rowley, William · published 1632 · first performed or written 1611 [1611-1614] (Annals) comedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
I hope you both in smoother streams shall swim: he's now the Sheriff of London, and in counsel Set at the Guildhall, in his scarlet Gown With Maior and Aldermen, how to receive the King, Who comes to see Master Bruin's Hospital To morrow consecrated byth' Cardinal, And old Saint Marie's Spittle, here by Shoreditch. I sister, he and you may sit 'bout what you will; Heaven I'm sure prospers it, but I am ever crossed; You have been bound for thee great voyages, Yet ne'er run a ground; maid, wife, and widow, And wife again; have spread full and fair sails, No wracks you e'er did dread, nor e'er felt any; But even close ashore, I'm sunk, and midst of All my wealth made poor. You must thank heaven. I do indeed, for all. Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fall. Master Foster, the new Sheriff your brother Is come to Ludgate, and I am come in haste To know your pleasure, if you would see him. I'll see a fury first, hence, clap to the door I prithee. Why, 'tis your brother Sir. Father let's fly the thunder of his rage. Stand valiantly, and let me bear the storm, all hurts That are, and ruins in your bosoms I'll repair. Where's the Keeper, go Sir, take My Officers, and see your prisoners Presently conveyed from Ludgate unto Newgate, and the Counters. I shall Sir. Let the Constables of the Wards assist you, Go, dispatch and take these with you; how now, What mak'st thou here thou Caitiff? had com'st Thou to stitch his wounds that seeks to cut My Throat, dar'st thou in despite relieve this Dotard? Get thee from my sight, thou devil in red; Com'st thou in scarlet pride to tread on thy poor Brother in a jail, Is there but one small conduit- pipe that runs could water to my comfort, and Wouldst thou cut off that thou cruel man? Yes, I'll stop that pipe that thou mayst pining sit, When drops but fell on me, thou poisond'st it: Thou thrust'st a son's name from thy cruel breast, For clothing of his Uncle; now that Uncle Shall thrust him naked forth for clothing thee, Banished for ever from my wealth and me. Thou canst not be to nature so uneven, To punish that which has a pay from heaven; Pitty I mean, and duty; Wouldst thou strike? Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can, thou'rt no brother, and I'll be no man. Thou ravest. How can I choose? thou makest me mad, For shame thou shouldst not make these white hairs sad; Churl, beat not my poor boy, let him not lose Thy love for my sake, I had rather bruise My soul with torments for a thousand years, could I but live them, rather than salt tears thy Malice draw from him; see here's thy gold, Tell it, none's stole, my woes can ne'er be told. O misery Is nature quite forgot? Choke with thy dunghill muck, and vex me not.
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 hope you both in smoother streames shall swim: He's now the Sheriffe of London, and in counsell Set at the Guildhall, in his scarlet Gowne With Maior and Aldermen, how to receive the King, Who comes to see Master Bruines Hospitall To morow consecrated by'th Cardinall, And old Saint Marie's Spittle, here by Shoreditch. I sister, he and you may sit 'bout what you will; Heaven I'm sure prospers it, but I am ever crost; You have bin bound for thee great voyages, Yet ne're run a ground; maid, wife, and widdow, And wife agen; have spread full and faire sayles, No wracks you e're did dread, nor e're felt any; But even close a shore, I'm sunke, and midst of All my wealth made poore. You must thanke heaven. I doe indeed, for all. Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fall. Master Foster, the new Sheriffe your brother Is come to Ludgate, and I am come in haste To know your pleasure, if you would see him. I'l see a fury first, hence, clap to the doore I prethee. Why, 'tis your brother Sir. Father let's flye the thunder of his rage. Stand valiantly, and let me beare the storme, all hurts That are, and ruines in your bosomes I'l repayre. Where's the Keeper, goe Sir, take My Officers, and see your prisoners Presently convey'd from Ludgate unto Newgate, and the Counters. I shall Sir. Let the Constables of the Wards assist you, Goe, dispatch and take these with you; how now, What mak'st thou here thou Catiffe? had com'st Thou to stitch his wounds that seekes to cut My Throate, dar'st thou in dispight releeve this Dotard? Get thee from my sight, thou divell in red; Com'st thou in scarlet pride to tread on thy poore Brother in a Iayle, Is there but one small conduit- pipe that runs could water to my comfort, and Wouldst thou cut off that thou cruell man? Yes, I'l stop that pipe that thou maist pining sit, When drops but fell on me, thou poysond'st it: Thou thrus'st a sonnes name from thy cruell brest, For cloathing of his Vncle; now that Vncle Shall thrust him naked forth for clothing thee, Banisht for ever from my wealth and me. Thou canst not be to nature so uneven, To punish that which has a pay from heaven; Pirty I meane, and duty; Wouldst thou strike? Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can, That no brother, and I'le be no man. Thou ravest. How can I choose? thou makest me mad, For shame thou shouldst not make these white haires sad; Churle, beat not my poore boy, let him not lose Thy love for my sake, I had rather bruise My soule with torments for a thousand yeeres, could live them, rather than salt teares thy Malice draw from him; see here's thy gold, Tell it, none's stole, my woes can ne'r be told. O Is nature quite forgot? Choke with thy dung-hill muck, and vex me not.