Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
You speak riddles. Which times commentary Must only explain to you; and till then Farewell good Bellula, farewell good Hylace, I thank you both. Alas! my hopes are strangled. I will not yet despair: He may grow milder, He bade me farewell first; and looked upon me With a more steadfast eye, then upon her When he departed hence: 'twas a good sign; At least I will imagine it to be so, Hope is the truest friend, and seldom leaves one. I doubt not but this will move him, For they're good apples, but my teeth are gone, I cannot bite them; but for all that though I'll warrant you I can love a young Fellow As well as any of them all: I that I can, And kiss him too as sweetly. Oh! here's the madman. Hercules, Hercules, ho Hercules, where are you? Lend me thy club and skin, and when I ha'done, I'll fling them to thee again, why Hercules? Pox on you, are you drunk? can you not answer? I'll travel then without them, and do wonders. I quake all over, worse than any fit Of the palsy which I have had this forty years Could make me do. So I ha' found the plot out, First I'll climb up, on Porter Atlas' shoulders, And then crawl into Heaven, and I'm sure I cannot choose but find her there: What will become of me if he should see me? Truly he's a good proper Gentleman, If he were not mad, I would not be so 'fraid of him. What have I caught thee fairest of all women? Where hast thou hid thyself so long from Aphron? Aphron who hath been dead till this blessed minute? Ha, ha, ha, whom doth he take me for! Thy skin is whiter than the snowy feathers Of Leda's Swans. la you there now,— I thought I was not so unhandsome, as they'd make me Thy hairs are brighter than the Moons, Then when she spreads her beams and fills her orb Beshrew their heart that call this Gentleman mad, He hath his senses I'll warrant him, about him, As well as any fellow of them all. Thy teeth are like two Arches made of Ivory, Of purest Ivory. I for those few I have, I think they're white enough. Thou art as fresh as May is, and thy look Is picture of the Spring. Nay, I am but some fourscore years and ten And bear my age well; yet Alupis says I look like January, but I'll teach the knave Another tune I'll warrant him. Thy lips are cherries, let me taste them sweet? You have begged so handsomely. Ha! ye good Gods defend me! 'tis a Witch, a Hag. What am I? A witch, one that did take the shape Of my best Mistress, but thou couldst not long Belie her pureness.
seed 43: T17 · seed 44: T19 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
You speake riddles. Which times commentarie Must only explaine to you; and till then Farewell good Bellula, farewell good Hylace, I thanke you both. Alas! my hopes are strangled. I will not yet despaire: He may grow milder, He bade me farewell first; and lookt upon me With a more stedfast eye, then upon her When he departed hence: 'twas a good signe; At least I will imagine it to be so, Hope is the truest friend, and seldome leaves one. I doubt not but this will move him, For they're good apples, but my teeth are gone, I cannot bite them; but for all that though Ile warrant you I can love a young Fellow As well as any of them all: I that I can, And kisse him too as sweetly. Oh! here's the mad-man. Hercules, Hercules, ho Hercules, where are you? Lend me thy club and skin, and when I ha'done, Ile fling them to thee againe, why Hercules? Pox on you, are you drunke? can you not answer? Ile travell then without them, and doe wonders. I quake all over, worse then any fitt Of the palsie which I have had this forty yeares Could make me doe. So I ha' found the plot out, First I'le climbe up, on Porter Atlas shoulders, And then craule into Heaven, and I'me sure I cannot chuse but find her there▪ What will become of me if he should see me? Truly he's a good proper Gentleman, If he were not mad, I would not be so 'fraid of him. What have I caught thee fayrest of all women? Where hast thou hid thy selfe so long from Aphron? Aphron who hath beene dead till this blest minute? Ha, ha, ha, whom doth he take me for! Thy skin is whiter then the snowy feathers Of Leda's Swannes. Law you there now,— I thought I was not so unhandsome, as they'd make me Thy haires are brighter then the Moones, Then when she spreads her beames and fills her orbe Beshrew their heart that call this Gentleman mad, He hath his senses Ile warrant him, about him, As well as any fellow of them all. Thy teeth are like two Arches made of Ivory, Of purest Ivory. I for those few I have, I thinke they're white enough. Thou art as fresh as May is, and thy look Is picture of the Spring. Nay, I am but some fourscore yeares and tenne And beare my age well; yet Alupis sayes I looke like January, but I'le teach the knave Another tune Ile warrant him. Thy lips are cheryes, let me taft them sweet? You have begd so handsomly. Ha! yee good Gods defend me! 'tis a Witch, a Hag. What am I? A witch, one that did take the shape Of my best Mistris, but thou couldst not long Belye her purenesse.