Selected quad for the lemma: sense_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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ID |
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Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
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A50795
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No wit, [no] help like a womans a comedy / by Tho. Middleton, Gent.
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Middleton, Thomas, d. 1627.
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1657
(1657)
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Wing M1985; ESTC R16728
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68,279
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140
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so And much about the age of our Girl there For both were nurs'd together Moth 'T is so fresh In my remembrance now y' have wakned it As if twelve years were but a twelve hours dream Sir Ol. That Girl is now a proper Gentlewoman As fine a body wife as ere was measured With an Indenture cut in farthing steaks Suns O say not so Sir Oliver you shall pardon me Sir Y'faith Sir you are too blame Sir Ol. Sings dances plays Touches an Instrument with a Motherly Grace Suns 'T is your own daughter that you mean that by Sav. There 's open Dutch indeed and he could take it Sir Ol. This wench under your leave Suns You have my love in 't Sir Ol. Is my sons wife that shall be Sav. Thus I 'd hold with 't Is your sons wife that should be Mr Sandfields Moth I come in happy time to a feast of marriages Sir Ol. And now you put 's i' th' minde the hour draws on At the new married Widows there we 're look'd for There will be entertainments sports and banquets There these yong lovers shall clap hands together The seed of one feast shall bring forth another Suns Well said Sir Oliver Sir Ol. Y' are a stranger Sir Your welcome will be best Dutch M. Good Sir excuse me Sir Ol. You shall along y'faith you must not refuse me Exit Manent Mother Sister Philip and Savorwit Phil. O Mother these new joys that sets my soul up Which had no means nor any hope of any Has brought me now so far in debt to you I know not which way to begin to thank you I am so lost in all I cannot ghess Which of the two my service most constrains Your last kinde goodness or your first deer pains Moth Love is a Mothers duty to a son As a sons duty is both love and fear Sav. I ow you a poor life Madam that 's all Pray call for 't when you please it shall be ready for you Moth Make much on 't Sir till then Sav. If Butter'd Sack will Moth Me thinks the more I look upon her son The more thy sisters face runs in my minde Phil. Belike she 's somewhat like her It makes the better Madam Moth Was Antwerp say you the first place you found her in Phil Yes Madam Why do you ask Moth Whose daughter were you Grace I know not rightly whose to speak truth Madam Sav. The Mother of her was a good twigger the whilst Moth No with whom were you brought up then Grace With those Madam To whom •'ve often heard the enemy sold me Moth What 's that Grace Too often have I heard this piteous story Of a distressed Mother I had once Whose comfortable sight I lost at Sea But then the years of childhood took from me Both the remembrance of her and the sorrows Moth Oh I begin to feel her in my blood My heart leaps to be at her What was that Mother Grace Some said an English Lady But I know not Moth What 's thy name Grace Grace Moth May it be so in Heaven For thou art mine on Earth welcome dear childe Unto thy Fathers house thy Mothers arms After thy forein sorrows Sav. 'T will prove gallant Moth What son such earnest work I bring thee joy now Will make the rest show nothing 't is so glorious Phil. Why 't is not possible Madam that mans happiness Should take a greater height then mine aspires Moth No now you shall confess it this shall quit thee From all fears present or hereafter doubts About this business Phil. Give me that sweet Mother Moth Here take her then and set thine arms a work There needs no ' fection 't is indeed thy sister Phil. My sister Sav. Cuds me I feel the razor Moth Why how now son how comes a change so soon Phil. Oh I beseech you Mother wound me anywhere But where you pointed last That 's present death Devise some other miserable torment Though ne'r so pittiless and I 'll run and meet it Some way more merciful let your goodness think on May steal away my joys but save my soul I 'll willingly restore back every one Upon that milde condition any thing But what you spake last will be comfortable Moth Y' are troubled with strange fits in England here Your first suit to me did entreat me hardly To say 't was she to have old wrath appeas'd And now 't is known your sister y' are not pleas'd How should I show my self Phil. Say 't is not she Moth Shall I deny my daughter Phil. O you kill me Beyond all tortures Moth Why do you deal thus with me Phil. She is my wife I married her at Antwerp I have known the way unto her Bed these three moneths Sav. And that 's too much by twelve weeks for a sister Moth I understand you now too soon too plain Phil. O Mother if you love my peace for ever Examine her again finde me not guilty Moth 'T is now too late her words make that too true Phil. Her words shall bare words overthrow a soul A body is not cast away so lightly How can you know 't is she let Sense decide it She then so yong and both so long divided Moth She tells me the sad story Phil. Does that throw me Many a distress may have the face of yours Tha• never was kin to you Moth But however Sir I trust you are not married Phil. Here 's the witness And all the wealth I had with her this Ring That joyn'd our hearts together Moth Oh too clear now Thou••• brought in evidence to o'rthrow thy self Had no one word been spoke onely this shown T 'had been enough to approv'd her for mine own See here two Letters that begun my name Before I knew thy Father this I gave her And as a Jewel fastned to her ear Grace Pardon me Mother that you finde it stray I kept it till I gave my heart away Phil. Oh to what Mountain shall I take my flight To hide the monster of my sin from sight Sav. I 'll to Wales presently there 's the best Hills To hide a poor knave in Moth Oh heap not desperation upon guilt Repent yet and all 's sav'd 't was but hard chance Amongst all sins Heaven pities ignorance She 's still the first that has her pardon sign'd All sins else see their faults she 's onely blinde Go to thy Chamber pray leave off and win One hours repentance cures a twelve moneths sin Exit cum Filia Grace O my distressed husband my dear Brother Phil. O Savorwit never came sorrow yet To mankinde like it I 'm so far distrest I 've no time left to give my heart attendance Too little all to wait upon my soul Before this empest came how well I stood Full in the beams of blessedness and joy The memory of man could never say So black a storm fell in so bright a day I am that man that ev'n life surfeits of Or if to live