Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Now by what gods, for Heaven's sake? Not the meanest, such as we call under-deities, melancholy Saturn, (by his son ●iled and banished from the supreme rule) Phoebus, a mere Vassal to the earth, And forced each natural day to measure heaven; As Neptune, Sovereign o'er the Seas, to whom Our tributary rivers hourly pay: As Mercury, though son to Iove himself, Not better than his Footboy or his Page, Compelled at every summons to his speed: But of the potent Thunderer. He of whom You have learned to thunder these impossible braves. Io, I an ashamed. Yes, that your beauty's Composed of the grosser elements, Want that attraction to call Iove himself Down from his heavenly Fabric, to behold Us in our eminence. Strange wonder sure, To look upon that face in which we Mortals, And value it at best, can nothing spy, Breed admiration in a Deity! Appear, Iove, in thy glory, let them know Ei, shamed confess their fond surmises vain, And what it is, thy godhead to profane. Fly, fly, jest we be thunderstruck, away; Let's seek our safety, danger's in our stay. Thou Daphne, who Jove's presence now dost shun, Swifter ere long shalt from, Apollo run. But there lie that which makes us terrible, Affrighting gods and men. Io to thee In calms I come, and Fair one make me proud, To seal the love which I so long have vowed. What steal? what vow? Both thou shalt find impressed On thy smooth cheek, soft lip, and Ivory breast, Forbear to handle; yet I never known A man so bold and rude: Can gods dispense, To teach us Women unknown impudence? Nay rather we solicit you to prove What yet you have not tried, the sweets of love. Things that I would not learn. A Truant still? If you want art, Io, I can teach you skill: Give me your hand, your lip: why these but are The Prologue to a pastime much more rare. Women by nature are ambitious, and Long to know what they do not understand. I'll practise you in that which you before Never known. In all this lip-sport? or what more Is in these kisses meant? I an so dull,— All these my Comment shall explain at full. In vain you strive. Should I do aught save well, I were undone, my father's floods would tell; These are his banks, they'll blab: What mean you? fie; They swell above their bounds, only to spy And see what we are doing. Pish, away, Such deeds of darkness can you do by day? Besides, shall I consent to what you mean, Not all these silver drops can wash me clean. Where I do stain I can again make pure: And that Day shall not hinder us, be sure: Arise you fogs and damps, your vapours gather, To shrowded us both from Iuno and thy father.
seed 43: T28 · seed 44: T22 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Now by what gods, for Heav'ns ſake? Not the meaneſt, ſuch as we call under-deities, melancholy Saturn, (by his ſon il'd and baniſht from the ſupreme rule) Phoebus, a meere Vaſſal to the earth, And forc'd each naturall day to meaſure heaven; As Neptune, Soveraign o're the Seas, to whom Our tributary rivers hourely pay: As Mercury, though ſon to Iove himſelfe, No better than his Foot-boy or his Page, Compeld at every ſummons to his ſpeed: But of the potent Thunderer. He of whom You have learn'd to thunder theſe impoſſible braves. Io, I am aſham'd. Yes, that your beauty's Compoſed of the groſſer elements, Want that attraction to call Iove himſelfe Downe from his heavenly Fabrick, to behold Vs in our eminence. Strange wonder ſure, To looke vpon that face in which we Mortals, And value it at beſt, can nothing ſpy, Breed admiration in a Deity! Appeare, Iove, in thy glory, let them know Ei, ſham'd confeſſe their fond ſurmiſes vain, And what it is, thy god-head to prophane. Fly, fly, leſt we be thunder-ſtrooke, away; Let's ſeeke our ſafety, danger's in our ſtay. Thou Daphne, who Ioves preſence now doſt ſhun, Swifter ere long ſhalt from, Apollo run. But there lie that which makes us terrible, Affrighting gods and men. Io to thee In calmes I come, and Faire one make me proud, To ſeale the love which I ſo long have vow'd. What ſteale? what vow? Both thou ſhalt finde impreſt On thy ſmooth cheeke, ſoft lip, and Ivory breſt, Forbeare to handle; yet I never knew A man ſo bold and rude: Can gods diſpence, To teach us Women unknowne impudence? Nay rather we ſolicit you to prove What yet you have not try'de, the ſweets of love. Things that I would not learn. A Truant ſtill? If you want art, Io, I can teach you skill: Give me your hand, your lip: why theſe but are The Prologue to a paſtime much more rare. Women by nature are ambitious, and Long to know what they do not underſtand. I'le practiſe you in that which you before Ne're knew. In all this lip-ſport? or what more Is in theſe kiſſes meant? I am ſo dull,— All theſe my Comment ſhall explain at full. In vain you ſtrive. Should I do ought ſave well, I were vndone, my fathers flouds would tell; Theſe are his banks, they'l blab: What mean you? fie; They ſwell above their bounds, only to ſpie And ſee what we are doing. Piſh, away, Such deeds of darkneſſe can you do by day? Beſides, ſhall I conſent to what you mean, Not all theſe ſilver drops can waſh me clean. Where I doe ſtain I can again make pure: And that Day ſhall not hinder us, be ſure: Ariſe you fogs and damps, your vapors gather, To ſhroud us both from Iuno and thy father.