Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Antonio, thou wouldst turn Philosopher To do thy friend a kindness; but 'tis not words Our business asks, we must have action now. Thou seest my father's anger for this freeing Althaea from her death, swells like a tide Half flown, that labours 'gainst an adverse wind, And does command us leave the Court awhile, And pass for Greece (as if our travail could Be Bawd unto the chastity of faith That's vowed to virtue) when my long wearied mind, Already's toiling in a pilgrimage Up to the shrine of Nature's rich perfections: Therefore Antonio thou must take the shape Of all (save misery) that I contain: And for I know my father's jealousy Will entertain all rumours that are left Where ere my name pass; thou must be Lucilio: And so my name travail alone with thee It will suffice; for fame doth sometimes gull The best intelligence. Then shape thy course Farthest from Athens, to those parts of Greece Where I am least known. Pardon me my Lord If I consent not: for should your safety call To leap the Tyrrhene Cliffs into the main, Stand in the face of a fired Canon, Or hale a sleeping Lion from the way Where you must pass, my love would force me run Against the edge of danger for your life. But this is only a pretended show To win our absence, that none may interrupt Your torrent of impatience, that posts Like melted Snow from off the Apennine Down to destruction. Thou art curious still With our intentions, and mistak'st me much. believe't Antonio if I might have died When the vast flood of spleen was at the full, And thought to overflow whole worlds of love: When Envy stood a tiptoe to catch hold, And pull down innocence to trample on't, And sweet Revenge was at her on to speak From my bruised bones; then death had been a heaven: But now my head's turned brass, & speaks times past, And hardened is against the worst of ills, Though every frown my angry mother gives Should come like hammers 'gainst my forehead, May I believe't my Lord, By Heaven I will, And so resolve: yet for thy farther trust, I will be open to thee; my meaning is To put off name and habit for a while, Till I have found Althaea, and knit that knot Which hell itself shall never violate; And therefore carry rumour still with thee, That it may have no leisure to descry What I embrace. Farewell Antonio! And prithee let this evening be the last Of thy delay: Heaven will be my friend, And send content, or give my woes an end. Soft, I'll not leave you to go seek that end: your name shall travail, but I'll not carry it. Though you have vowed not to procure your death; you are in love— manet.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Antonio, thou wouldſt turne Philoſopher To doe thy friend a kindneſſe; but 'tis not wordes Our buſineſſe askes, we muſt have action now. Thou ſeeſt my fathers anger for this freeing Althea from her death, ſwels like a tide Halfe flowne, that labours 'gainſt an adverſe winde, And does command us leave the Court awhile, And paſſe for Greece (as if our travaile could Be Bawd unto the chaſtity of faith That's vow'd to vertue) when my long weary'd minde, Already's toyling in a pilgrimage Vp to the ſhrine of Natures rich perfections: Therefore Antonio thou muſt take the ſhape Of all (ſave miſery) that I containe: And for I know my fathers jealouſie Will entertaine all rumours that are left Where ere my name paſſe; thou muſt bee Lucilio: And ſo my name travaile alone with thee It will ſuffice; for fame doth ſometimes gull The beſt intelligence. Then ſhape thy courſe Fartheſt from Athens, to thoſe parts of Greece Where I am leaſt knowne. Pardon me my Lord If I conſent not: for ſhould your ſafety call To leap the Tyrrhene Cliffs into the maine, Stand in the face of a fir'd Canon, Or hale a ſleeping Lyon from the way Where you muſt paſſe, my love would force me runne Againſt the edge of danger for your life. But this is onely a pretended ſhew To win our abſence, that none may interrupt Your torrent of impatience, that poſts Like melted Snow from off the Apenine Downe to deſtruction. Thou art curious ſtill With our intentions, and miſtak'ſt me much. Beleev't Antonio if I might have dyed When the vaſt flood of ſpleene was at the full, And thought to overflow whole worlds of love: When Envy ſtood a tip-toe to catch hold, And pull downe innocence to trample on't, And ſweet Revenge was at her on to ſpeake From my bruis'd bones; then death had been a heaven: But now my head's turn'd braſſe, & ſpeakes times paſt, And harden'd is againſt the worſt of ils, Though every frowne my angry mother gives Should come like hammers 'gainſt my forehead, May I beleev't my Lord, By Heaven I will, And ſo reſolve: yet for thy farther truſt, I will bee open to thee; my meaning is To put off name and habit for a while, Till I have found Althea, and knit that knot Which hell it ſelfe ſhall never violate; And therefore carry rumour ſtill with thee, That it may have no leaſure to deſcry What I embrace. Farewell Antonio! And prethee let this evening bee the laſt Of thy delay: Heaven will be my friend, And ſend content, or give my woes an end. Soft, Ile not leave you to goe ſeek that end: your name ſhall travaile, but Ile not carry it. Though you have vow'd not to procure your death; you are in love—manet.