Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1632 [licensed for stage, Apr 20] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
What mean you? You shall have fifty pounds for forty weeks To do you a pleasure. You'll not use me thus? Fare you well, you have miraculously brought things about. You work by stratagem and Ambuscado. Do you not think yourself a proper gentleman, Whom by your want of hair some hold a wit too, You know my heart, and every thought within it How I am caught, do I not melt like honey Itt'h dog days, why do you look so staring. Do not you love me for all this? Would I had Art enough to draw your picture, It would show rarely at the exchange, you have A medley in your face of many Nations, Your Nose is Roman, which your next debauchment, At Tavern with the help of pot or candlestick May turn to Indian flat, your lip is Austrian, And you do well to bit it; for your Chin It does incline to the Bavarian poke, But seven years may disguise it with a beard, And make it more ill favoured; you have eyes Especially when you goggle thus, not much Unlike a Jews, and yet some men might take 'em For Turkes, by the two halfe Moones that rise about m, I am an Infidel to use him thus. Till now I never was myself, farewell For ever woman, not worth love or anger. D'ee hear one word, I'd fain speak kindly to him, Why dost not rail at me? No, I will laugh at thee and at myself, To have been so much a fool, y'are a fine may game. I shall fool too much, but one word more, By all the faith and love of womankind, Believe me now, it won't out. Farewell When next I dote upon thee be a Monster. Hark sir the Nightingale, there is better luck Coming towards us. When you are out of breath You will give over, and for better luck, I do believe the bird, for I can leave thee, And not be in love with my own torment. How sir. I ha' said, stay you and practise with the bird, 'twas Philomel they say, and thou wert one, I should new ravish thee. I must to th' Coach and weep, my heart will break else, I'm glad he does not see me. Whither will you walk my Lord? you may engage yourself too far and lose your sport! I would Go farther for a little sport, you mean The horse race, they're not come into the Park yet, I might do something else, and return time Enough to win five hundred pieces. Your Lordship had no fortune in the last match, I wished your confidence a happier success. We must lose sometimes— hark the Nightingale You win my Lord I dare engage myself. You make the Omen fortunate, this bird Doth prophesy good luck. 'tis the first time I heard it. And I this spring, let's walk a little further. I am not weary but— You may trust your person Lady.
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)
What meane you? You shall have fifty pounds for forty wekes To do you a pleasure. Youle not use me thus? Fare you well, you have miraculously brought things about. You worke by stratagem and Ambuscado. Do you not thinke your selfe a proper gentleman, Whom by your want of haire some hold a wit too, You know my heart, and every thought within it How I am caught, do I not melt like hony It'h dogge daies, why do you looke so staring. Do not you love me for all this? Would I had Art enough to draw your picture, It would shew rarely at the exchange, you have A medly in your face of many Nations, Your Nose is Romane, which your next debauchment, At Taverne with the helpe of pot or candlesticke May turne to Indian flat, your lip is Austrian, And you do well to bit it; for your Chinne It does incline to the Bavarian poke, But seven yeares may disguise it with a bard, And make it more ill favoured; you have eyes Especially when you goggle thus, not much Vnlike a Iewes, and yet some men might take em For Turkes, by the two halfe Moones that rise about m, I am an Infidell to use him thus. Till now I never was my selfe, farewell For ever woman, not worth love or anger. Dee heare one word, I'de faine speake kindly to him, Why dost not raile at me? No, I will laugh at thee and at my selfe, To have bin so much a foole, y'are a fine may game. I shall foole too much, but one word more, By all the faith and love of womankinde, Beleeve me now, it wonot out. Farewell When next I dote upon thee be a Monster. Harke sir the Nightingale, there is better lucke Comming towards us. When you are out of breath You will give over, and for better lucke, I do beleeve the bird, for I can leave thee, And not be in love with my owne torment. How sir. I ha said, stay you and practise with the bird, Twas Philoml thy say, and thou wert on, I should new ravish thee. I must to th' Coach and weepe, my heart will brak else, I'me glad he does not see me. Whither will you walke my Lord? you may engag Your selfe too farre and lose your sport! I would Goe farther for a little sport, you mane The horse race, they're not come into the Park yt, I might doe something else, and returne time Enough towinn five hundred peeces. Your Lordship had no fortune in the last match, I wish'd your confidence a happier successe. We must loose sometimes—harke the Nightingale You win my Lord I dare engag my selfe. You make the Omen fortunate, this bird Doth prophesie good lucke. Tis the first time I heard it. And I this spring, lets walke a little fur thr. I am not weary but— You may trust your person Lady.