Marmion, Shackerley · published 1633 · first performed or written 1633 [1632-1633] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) · before the Court T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.89 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Oh my heart, my heart. Would you would rip it up, that you might see yourself enthroned, and all my faculties Paying their homage to your memory. I think I do it indifferently. All this and more, Lovers can speak at pleasure. Propose a course how I might win belief: Were there a way to it, as deep with danger, As to the Centre, I will search it out. When I have nothing else to do. Your thoughts have found such easy utterance, That I suspect their truth, they seem to savour Of art, more than of passion. I have heard Great griefs are silent, neither do I find Those Symptoms of affection in your looks. You change no colour, and your joints are steady. Your eyes appear too full of petulancy, As if they did reflect with inward scorn, T'upbraid your falsehood. Now by all my hopes, By all the rites that crown a happy union, And by the rosy tincture of your cheeks, And by your all subduing eyes, more bright Than heaven. Hold there. I prize you 'bove the world. What should I say, when vows cannot prevail: If you persist, and still so cruel be, I'll swear there's no plague like love's tyranny. And all this while I do not care a pin for her. I have engaged it to your friend already. But love makes no distinction. If you say so, I must debar my heart the knowledge of you. This will not do, I must be more lascivious. Come my fair Venus, sit by thy Adonis. What do you start? are you afraid of love, That is all fair, and from whose brightest heaven, Are blown away all swollen clouds of despair? His brow is smooth, and all his face beset With banks full of delight, a golden Chain Of wanton smiles hangs round about his neck; And all his way before him strewed with roses. Come let us sit and dally, taste those pleasures. Love is no niggard, we may eat and surfeit. And yet our dainties still remain as fresh, As they were never touched. Is't come to that? I thought whither you tended. I am unskilful: Untaught in those deep, but ill mysteries. I'll teach you all, and lead your wandering steps, Through all those ways, where to find the way Will be to lose it. I am very sorry, The Time's disease has so prevailed upon you. 'tis the perfection now of compliment, The only end to corrupt honesty. To prostitute your oaths, and win our hearts To your belief, is the Court eloquence. These are harsh tunes, and ill become your beauty: Whose proper passion should be wantonness. Why should you lose the benefit of youth, And the delights? give freedom to your will. When age and weakness mortifies your thoughts, You may correct this looseness. Sir I cannot Hear you with safety. I must die then, I am slain, unless Those words, and smiles, that wounded me, do heal me.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh my heart, my heart. Would you would rip it up, that you might ſee Your ſelfe enthron'd, and all my faculties Paying their homage to your memory. I thinke I doe it indifferently. All this and more, Lovers can ſpeake at pleaſure. Propoſe a courſe how I might winne beliefe: Were there a way to it, as deepe with danger, As to the Center, I will ſearch it out. When I haue nothing elſe to doe. Your thoughts haue found ſuch eaſie utterance, That I ſuſpect their truth, they ſeeme to ſavour Of art, more then of paſſion. I haue heard Great griefes are ſilent, neither doe I find Thoſe Symptomes of affection in your lookes. You change no colour, and your ioynts are ſtedy. Your eyes appeare too full of petulancie, As if they did reflect with inward ſcorne, T'upbrayd your falſhood. Now by all my hopes, By all the rites that crowne a happy vnion, And by the roſie tincture of your cheeks, And by your all ſubduing eyes, more bright Then heaven. Hold there. I prize you 'boue the world. What ſhould I ſay, when vowes cannot prevaile: If you perſiſt, and ſtill ſo cruell be, Ile ſweare there's no plague like loues tyrannie. And all this while I doe not care a pin for her. I haue engagd it to your friend already. But loue makes no diſtinction. If you ſay ſo, I muſt debarre my heart the knowledge of you. This will not doe, I muſt be more laſcivious. Come my faire Venus, ſit by thy Adonis. What doe you ſtart? are you afraid of loue, That is all faire, and from whoſe brighteſt heaven, Are blowne away all ſwolne clouds of deſpaire? His brow is ſmooth, and all his face beſet With bankes full of delight, a golden Chaine Of wanton ſmiles hangs round about his neck; And all his way before him ſtrew'd with roſes. Come let us ſit and dally, taſt thoſe pleaſures. Loue is no niggard, we may eate and ſurfet. And yet our dainties ſtill remaine as freſh, As they were never toucht. Iſt come to that? I thought whither you tended. I am unskilfull: Vntaught in thoſe deepe, but ill myſteries. Ile teach you all, and lead your wandring ſteps, Through all thoſe wayes, where to find the way Will be to looſe it. I am very ſorry, The times diſeaſe has ſo prevail'd upon you. Tis the perfection now of complement, The onely end to corrupt honeſty. To proſtitute your oathes, and winne our hearts To your beliefe, is the Court eloquence. Theſe are harſh tunes, and ill become your beauty: Whoſe proper paſſion ſhould be wantonneſſe. Why ſhould you looſe the benefit of youth, And the delights? giue freedome to your will. When age and weakeneſſe mortifies your thoughts, You may correct this looſeneſſe. Sir I cannot Heare you with ſafetie. I muſt dye then, I am ſlaine, unleſſe Thoſe words, and ſmiles, that wounded me, doe heale me.