Fisher, Jasper · published 1633 · first performed or written 1625 [c.1611-1633] (Annals) history · at University unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
ay, falling Stars. False Echo, don't blaspheme that glorious sex, Whose beauteous rays can strike rash gazers blind. Love should be blind. Pray, leave this Cynic humour, whilst I sigh My Mistress praise: Her beauty's past compare: O would she were more kind, or not so fair. Her modest smiles both curb and kindle love: The Court is dark without her; when She rises, The morning is her handmaid, strewing roses About love's Hemisphere: The lamps above Eclipse themselves for shame, To see her eyes Outshine their Chrysolites, and more bless the skies, Than they the Earth— Give me her Name. Her body is a Crystal cage, whose pure Transparent mould not of gross elements Compacted, but the extracted Quintessence Of sweetest forms distilled: where Graces bright Do live immured, but not exempt from sight.— I prithee speak her. Her model is beyond all poets' brains, And painter's pencils: All the lively Nymphs, Syrens, and Dryads, are but kitchenmaids, If you compare. To frame the like Pandore, The Gods repine, and Nature would grow poor.— By Love, who is't? hath she no mortal Name? For here you find great Juno's stately front, Pallas' grey eye, Venus her dimpled chin, Aurora's rosy fingers, the small waist Of Ceres' daughter, and Medusa's hair, Before it hist:— O Love, as deaf, as thou art blind! Good Eulinus Call home thy soul, and tell thy Mistress name. O strange! what ignorant still? whenas so plainly These Attributes describe her: why? She is A Rhapsody of Goddesses. The elixir Of all their several perfections. She is (Now bless your ears) by mortals called Landora. What: Landora the Trinobantic Lady? How grow your hopes, what metal is her breast? All steel and adamant. 'tis beauty's pride, To stain Her lily white with blood of Lovers slain. Their groans make music, and their scalding sighs Raise a perfume, and vulturelike she gnaws Their bleeding hearts. No gifts, no learned flattery, No stratagems can work Landora's battery. As a tall Rock maintains majestic state, Though Boreas gallop on the tottering seas, And tilting split his froth out spurging waves Upon his surly breast: So she resists: And all my projects on her cruel heart, Are but retorted to their author's smart. Why then, let scorn succeed thy love, and bravely Conquer thyself, If thou wilt conquer her: Stomachs, with kindness cloyed, Disdain must stir. Most impious thoughts! O let me rather perish, And loving die, than living cease to love: And when I faint, let her but hear me cry, ay me, there's none, which truly loves, but I. O ye cross darts of Cupid! this very Lady, This Lady-wasp woes me, as thou dost her, With glances, jewels, bracelets of her hair, Lascivious banquets, and most eloquent eyes: All which my heart misconters as immodest, It being pointed for another Pole. But hence learn courage, Coosse; why stand you dumb? Women are women, and may be o'ercome.
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, falling Starres. False Eccho, don't blaspheme that glorious sexe, Whose beautious raies can strike rash gazers blind. Loue should be blind. Pray, leaue this Cynicke humour, whilst I sigh My Mistresse praise: Her beauty's past compare: O would she were more kind, or not so faire. Her modest smiles both curb and kindle loue: The Court is darke without her; when Shee rises, The morning is her hand-maid, strewing roses About loues Hemispheare: The lampes aboue Eclipse themselues for shame, To see her eies Out-shine their Chrysolites, and more blesse the skies, Than they the Earth — Giue me her Name. Her body is a Chrystall cage, whose pure Transparent mould not of grosse elements Compacted, but the extracted Quintessence Of sweetest formes distill'd: where Graces bright Doe liue immur'd, but not exempt from sight. — I prethee speake her. Her modell is beyond all Poets braynes, And Painters pencells: All the liuely Nymphes, Syrens, and Dryads, are but kitchin-maydes, If you compare. To frame the like Pandore, The Gods repine, and Nature would grow poore.— By Loue, who ist? hath she no mortall Name? For heere you find great Iunoes stately front, Palla's gray eie, Venus her dimpled chinne, Auroraes rosie fingers, the small wast Of Ceres daughter, and Medusaes haire, Before it hist:— O Loue, as deafe, as thou art blind! Good Eulinus Call home thy soule, and tell thy Mistresse name. O strange! what ignorant still? when as so plainely These Attributes describe her: why? She is A Rhapsody of Goddesses. The Elyxar Of all their seuerall perfections. She is (Now blesse your eares) by mortals called Landora. What: Landora the Trinobanticke Lady? How grow your hopes, what mettall is her breast? All steele and adamant. Tis beauties pride, To staine Her lilly white with blood of Louers slaine. Their groanes make musick, and their scalding sighes Raise a perfume, and vulture-like she gnawes Their bleeding hearts. No gifts, no learned flattery, No stratagems can worke Landoraes battery. As a tall Rocke maintaines maiesticke state, Though Boreas gallop on the tottering seas, And tilting split his froath out spurging waues Vpon his surly breast: So she resists: And all my proiects on her cruell hart, Are but retorted to their Authors smart. Why then, let scorne succeed thy loue, and brauely Conquer thy selfe, If thou wilt conquer her: Stomackes, with kindnesse cloy'd, Disdaine must stirre. Most impious thoughts! O let me rather perish, And louing die, than liuing cease to loue: And when I faint, let her but heare me cry, Aye me, there's none, which truely loues, but I. O ye crosse darts of Cupid! this very Ladie, This Lady-waspe woes me, as thou dost her, With glaunces, iewells, bracelets of her haire, Lasciuious banquets, and most eloquent eies: All which my heart misse-consters as immodest, It being pointed for another Pole. But hence learne courage, Coosse; why stand you dumbe? Women are women, and may be ore-come.