Renaissance Drama — Topics · seed 42

The Lost Lady · chunk 42 of 42

Berkeley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals)
not in BritDrama
unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 495 words

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Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.

Observe me. Welcome my Lords, do you know this Lady? Most perfectly, and came to congratulate With the Prince, for her double recovery. I thank you my Lord, and when my friend and you Are reconciled, you may assure yourself I am your servant. What's in my power to give him satisfaction: He may command. Your friendship does it. my Lord, this reconcilement will make way unto my Pardon, I have not been wanting in my promise To you; but my daughter thinks she has chosen So well, that without any leave, she hath made her Self, her own disposer. Ages of happiness attend them: If I may hope to Gain the graces of the fair IRENE, I shall be happy too. If I have any power, she shall be yours. Let me beg the honour of interceding: your fortunes And condition are so equal, it were a sin to part you. Pray Sir, let him do it himself: the task is not So hard, to require a Mediator. Have you such skill in perspective? As good as any chiromancer's in Egypt Madam. He has reason, for I have opened my breast to him, And he has seen my heart, and you enthroned in't. He tells you true Lady. Indeed Sir: and pray what did it look like? Faith to deal truly, much like the wheel of Fortune, Which turning round, puts the same persons Sometimes at top, sometimes at bottom: but at last Love shot his dart through the axle-tree, And fixed you Regent. Well, I have considered, and my cousin's Example shall teach me. What in the name of doubt? To avoid the infinite troubles you procured her by your Fruitless solicitations: d''ee think your tears shall cost Me so many tears, as they have done her? You may excuse them by consenting To your friends desires. Sweet Madam, let me obtain this for him: He dies if you deny him. Dear IRENE, perfect the happiness of this day. You have great reason to persuade me To take him you abhorred. I was engaged. Well, if any here will pass their words He can continue constant a week, I will Be disposed by you. We all will be engaged for him. On this condition I admit him to a month's service, And myself to a perpetual servitude. I ever shall be yours. My father said so, till my mother wept. A notable wooing this. And as notably finished. Let's now unto my father, Who expects you to deliver his Commission to you. Come my MILESIA, tell my wounded heart No more, her sighs shall wander through the air Not knowing where to find thee: nor no more Shall the mistaken Tomb of false ONONE Be moistened with my tears; yet since she died To save thy life, her ghost could not expect A cheaper sacrifice: this I'll only add In memory of us, All Lovers shall Repute this day, as their great Festival.
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Details

Metadata, position in the edition, topic in the other seeds
PlayThe Lost Lady
AuthorBerkeley, William
Publication year (edition)1638
First performance / composition (Annals)1637 [1637-1638]
Genre (British Drama)not in BritDrama
Play typeProfessional;Adult Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEPedition 1070 · TCP A08731 · DEEP 887
Edition roleRepresentative edition — used in the analysis
Positionnodes 2586–2653 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 42 of 42 in this edition
Length495 words · 626 tokens
Topic (seed 42)unassigned by HDBSCAN · nearest topic T48 — Addressing a lady: love, desire and intimacy at 0.867
Other seedsseed 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)
Observe me. Welcome my Lords, doe you know this Lady? Most perfectly, and came to congratulate With the Prince, for her double recovery. I thanke you my Lord, and when my friend and you Are reconcil'd, you may assure your selfe I am your servant. What's in my power to give him satisfaction: He may command. Your friendship does it. my Lord, this reconcilement will make way unto my Pardon, I have not beene wanting in my promise To you; but my daughter thinkes she has chosen So well, that without any leave, she hath made her Selfe, her owne disposer. Ages of happinesse attend them: If I may hope to Gaine the graces of the faire IRENE, I shall be happy too. If I have any power, she shall be yours. Let me beg the honour of interceding: your fortunes And condition are so equall, it were a sin to part you. Pray Sir, let him doe it himselfe: the taske is not So hard, to require a Mediator. Have you such skill in perspective? As good as any Chyromancer's in AEgypt Madam. He has reason, for I have open'd my breast to him, And he has seene my heart, and you inthron'd in't. He tels you true Lady. Indeed Sir: and pray what did it looke like? Faith to deale truely, much like the wheele of Fortune, Which turning round, puts the same persons Sometimes at top, sometimes at bottome: but at last Love shot his dart thorough the Axel-tree, And fixt you Regent. Well, I have considered, and my Cozens Example shall teach me. What in the name of doubt? To avoid the infinite troubles you procur'd her by your Fruitlesse solicitations: d'ee thinke your teares shall cost Me so many teares, as they have done her? You may excuse them by consenting To your friends desires. Sweet Madam, let me obtaine this for him: He dyes if you deny him. Deare IRENE, perfit the happinesse of this day. You have great reason to perswade me To take him you abhorr'd. I was ingag'd. Well, if any here will passe their words He can continue constant a weeke, I will Be dispos'd by you. We all will be ingag'd for him. On this condition I admit him to a Months service, And my selfe to a perpetuall servitude. I ever shall be yours. My father said so, till my mother wept. A notable woing this. And as notably finish'd. Let's now unto my father, Who expects you to deliver his Commission to you. Come my MILESIA, tell my wounded heart No more, her sighes shall wander through the aire Not knowing where to find thee: nor no more Shall the mistaken Tombe of false ONONE Be moistened with my teares; yet since she dyed To save thy life, her ghost could not expect A cheaper sacrifice: this I'le onely adde In memory of us, All Lovers shall Repute this day, as their great Feastivall.