Cowley, Abraham · published 1638 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1633-1636] (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T32 Rings and jewels as tokens · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T32: ring, ti, gave, finger, jewel, lady, lord, love, invisible, away.
The comely gravity which adorns your age, And makes you still seem lovely, hath so strucken me— Alas good soul! I must seem coy at first, But not too long, for fear I should quite lose him. That I shall perish utterly, unless Your gentle nature help me. Alas good Shepherd! And in troth I fain would help you But I am past those vanities of love. Oh no! Wise nature which preserved your life till now Doth it because you should enjoy these pleasures Which do belong to life, if you deny me, I am undone. Well you should not win me But that I am loath to be held the cause Of any young man's ruin, do not think it My want of chastity, but my good nature Which would see no one hurt. Ah pretty soul! How supple 'tis like wax before the Sun! Now cannot I choose but kiss her, there's the plague of 't, Let's then join our hearts, and seal them with a kiss Well, let us then: 'T were incivility to be your debtor, I'll give you back again your kiss, sweetheart, And come in th'afternoon, I'll see you; My husband will be gone to sell some kine, And Hylace tending the sheep, till then Farewell good Duck But do you hear, because you shall remember To come I'll give thee here this Ebon ring But do not wear it, lest my husband chance To see't: Farewell Duck. Lest her husband chance To see't; she cannot deny this, here's enough; My scene of love is done then, is she gone? I'll call her back; ho Truga; Truga hô: Why do you call me Duck? Only to ask one foolish question of thee: Ha'n't you a husband? Yes, you know I have. And do you love him? Why do you ask? I do. Yet you can be content to make him cuckold Rather than to see you perish in your flames. Why art thou now two hundred years of age, Yet hast no more discretion but to think That I could love thee? ha, ha, were't mine I'd sell thee to some gardener, thou wouldst serve To scare away the thieves as well as crows. Oh, you're disposed to jest I see, Farewell. Nay, I'm in very earnest; I love you? Why thy face is a vizard. Leave off these tricks, I shall be angry else, And take away the favours I bestowed. 'Tis known that thou hast eyes by the holes only, Which are crept farther in, than thy nose out, And that's almost a yard; thy quarreling teeth Of such a colour are, that they themselves Scare one another, and do stand at distance. Thy skin hangs loose as if it feared the bones (For flesh thou hast not) and is grown so black That a wild Centaur would not meddle with thee. To conclude, Nature made thee when she was Only disposed to jest, and length of time Hath made thee more ridiculous.
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)
The comely gravity which adornes your age, And makes you still seeme lovely, hath so strucken me— Alas good soule! I must seeme coy at first, But not too long, for feare I should quite lose him. That I shall perish utterly, unlesse Your gentle nature helpe me. Alas good Shepheard! And in troth I faine would helpe you But I am past those vanities of love. Oh no! Wise nature which preserv'd your life till now Doth it because you should enjoy these pleasures Which doe belong to life, if you deny me, I am undone. Well you should not win me But that I am loath to be held the cause Of any young mans ruine, doe not thinke it My want of chastity, but my good nature Which would see no one hurt. Ah pretty soule! How supple 'tis like wax before the Sun▪ Now cannot I chuse but kisse her, there's the plague of 't, Let's then joyne our hearts, and seale them with a kisse Well, let us then: 'T were incivility to be your debtor, I'le give you back againe your kisse, sweetheart, And come in th'afternoone, I'le see you; My husband will be gone to sell some kine, And Hylace tending the sheepe, till then Farewell good Duck But doe you heare, because you shall remember To come I'le give thee here this Ebon ring But doe not weare it, lest my husband chance To see't: Farewell Duck. Lest her husband chance To see't; she cannot deny this, here's enough; My Scoene of love is done then, is she gone? I'le call her back; ho Truga; Truga hô: Why doe you call me Duck? Only to aske one foolish question of thee: Ha'n't you a husband? Yes, you know I have. And doe you love him? Why doe you aske? I doe. Yet you can be content to make him cuckold Rather then to see you perish in your flames. Why art thou now two hundred yeares of age, Yet hast no more discretion but to thinke That I could love thee? ha, ha, were't mine I'de sell thee to some gardiner, thou wouldst serve To scare away the theeves aswell as crowes. Oh, you're dispos'd to jest I see, Farewell. Nay, I'me in very earnest; I love you? Why thy face is a vizard. Leave off these tricks, I shall be angry else, And take away the favours I bestow'd. 'Tis knowne that thou hast eyes by the holes only, Which are crept farther in, then thy nose out, And that's almost a yard; thy quarreling teeth Of such a colour are, that they themselves Scare one another, and doe stand at distance. Thy skin hangs loose as if it fear'd the bones (For flesh thou hast not) and is growne so black That a wilde Centaure would not meddle with thee. To conclude, Nature made thee when she was Only dispos'd to jest, and length of time Hath made thee more ridiculous.