Marlowe, Christopher · published 1633 · first performed or written 1589 [c.1589-1590] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown · before the Court unassigned nearest T33 Fathers, daughters and marriage negotiat · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T33: daughter, marriage, father, love, davus, matter, son, chremes, wife, mother.
For your sake and his own he's welcome hither. Daughter, a word more; kiss him, speak him fair, And like a cunning Iew so cast about, That ye be both made sure ere you come out. Oh father, Don Mathias is my love. I know it: yet I say make love to him; Do, it is requisite it should be so. Nay on my life it is my factor's hand, But go you in, I'll think upon the account: The account is made, for Lodowick dies. My Factor sends me word a Merchant's fled That owes me for a hundred Tun of Wine: I weigh it thus much; I have wealth enough. For now by this has he kissed Abigal; And she vows love to him, and he to her. As sure as heaven rained Manna for the Jews, So sure shall he and Don Mathias die: His father was my chiefest enemy. Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while. whither but to my fair love Abigal? Thou know'st, and heaven can witness it is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine. ay, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much: Oh heaven forbid I should have such a thought. Pardon me though I weep; the governor's son Will, whether I will or no, have Abigal: He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings. Does she receive them? she? No, Mathias, no, but sends them back, And when he comes, she locks herself up fast; Yet through the key hole will he talk to her, While she runs to the window looking out When you should come and hale him from the door Oh treacherous Lodowick! Even now as I came home, he slipped me in, And I am sure he is with Abigal. I'll rouse him thence. Not for all Malta, therefore sheath your sword; If you love me, no quarrels in my house; But steal you in, and seem to see him not; I'll give him such a warning e'er he goes As he shall have small hopes of Abigal. Away, for here they come, What hand in hand, I cannot suffer this. Mathias, as thou lov'st me, not a word. Well, let it pass, another time shall serve. Barabas, is not that the widow's son? ay, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death. My death? what is the base borne peasant mad? No, no, but happily he stands in fear Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon, My daughter here, a paltry silly girl. Why loves she Don Mathias? Doth she not with her smiling answer you? He has my heart, I smile against my will. Barabas, thou know'st I have loved thy daughter long. And so has she done you, even from a child. And now I can no longer hold my mind. Nor I the affection that I bear to 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)
For your sake and his own he's welcome hither. Daughter, a word more; kisse him, speake him faire, And like a cunning Iew so cast about, That ye be both made sure e're you come out. Oh father, Don Mathias is my loue. I know it: yet I say make loue to him; Doe, it is requisite it should be so. Nay on my life it is my Factors hand, But goe you in, I'le thinke vpon the account: The account is made, for Lodowicke dyes. My Factor sends me word a Merchant's fled That owes me for a hundred Tun of Wine: I weigh it thus much; I haue wealth enough. For now by this has he kist Abigall; And she vowes loue to him, and hee to her. As sure as heauen rain'd Manna for the Iewes, So sure shall he and Don Mathias dye: His father was my chiefest enemie. Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while. Wither but to my faire loue Abigall? Thou know'st, and heauen can witnesse it is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine. I, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much: Oh heauen forbid I should haue such a thought. Pardon me though I weepe; the Gouernors sonne Will, whether I will or no, haue Abigall: He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings. Does she receiue them? Shee? No, Mathias, no, but sends them backe, And when he comes, she lockes her selfe vp fast; Yet through the key hole will he talke to her, While she runs to the widow looking out When you should come and hale him from the doore Oh treacherous Lodowicke! Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, And I am sure he is with Abigall. I'le rouze him thence. Not for all Malta, therefore sheath your sword; If you loue me, no quarrels in my house; But stale you in, and seeme to see him not; I'le giue him such a warning e're he goes As he shall haue small hopes of Abigall. Away, for here they come, What hand in hand, I cannot suffer this. Mathias, as thou lou'st me, not a word. Well, let it passe, another time shall serue. Barabas, is not that the widowes sonne? I, and take heed, for he hath sworne your death. My death? what is the base borne peasant mad? No, no, but happily he stands in feare Of tht which you, I thinke, ne're dreame vpon, My daughter here, a paltry silly girle. Why loues she Don Mathias? Doth she not with her smiling answer you? He has my heart, I smile against my will. Barabas, thou know'st I haue lou'd thy daughter long. And so has she done you, euen from a child. And now I can no longer hold my minde. Nor I the affection that I beare to you