Nabbes, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1638 (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) (?); King's Revels Company (?) · Salisbury Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 547 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Silence your noise, ye clamorous ministers Of this injustice. Bellamie is lost; she's lost to me. Nor her fierce Uncle's rage Who whets your eager aptness to pursue me With threats or promises; nor his painted terrors Of law's severity, could ever work Upon the temper of my resolute soul, To soften't into fear, till she was lost: Not all th'illusive horrors which the night Presents unto th'imagination T'affright a guilty conscience, could possess me, Whilst I possessed my Love: the dismal shrieks Of fatal Owls, and groans of dying Mandrakes, Whilst her soft palm warmed mine, were music to me, And were this hand but once more clasped in hers, This should resist th'assault, inspired by love With more than humane vigour. Follow, follow, follow. Their light appears. No safety doth consist In passion or complaints. Night, let thine arms Again receive me; and if no kind minister Of better fate guide me to Bellamie; Be thou eternal. Follow, follow, follow. Come, wing your hasts: I'll sweeten all your labours With large rewards: do but recover them, I'll ease your rents; exact no costly customs; Quarrel no more about your commons title. Good neighbours forward: London's not far off. 'Tis so far off, that I cannot see it. The day will soon discover it. That day is sure a notable informer; yet I believe He spies more bad than he mends. Come, follow me this way. Yes, we will follow; but at some wiser distance: Stay neighbour let him go. Shall we rob our carcases of sleep all night, that have been sufficiently tired with the day's toils, for his reward? what will that be think you? a Christmas dinner; with a Chine of his great Ox that died at watering of the blain. You say well neighbour: And a stale hare with a great pudding in her belly. And the discourse of his Worships hunting her: how many doubles she made, and mocked his Worship's hope of a better dinner so long, till he thought in his conference she was a Lancashire Witch. Yes neighbour, and a choler of Brawn that was fattened with stale porridge. And a goose that broke her neck, creeping through the hedge into the parson's stubble. No neighbour, let the young couple go, and much joy go with them. Let us take up our rests in this thicket, or the next house; for I am as sleepy as if I had eaten a Puppy. How, eat a Puppy! Yes, a Puppy; I heard our Landlord's Carter speak it last Whitsuntide in a Play. And I am as drowsy as a Constable at midnight. Why then resolved: 'twill be day presently: let's put on't the candle, and go to bed, and farewell Landlord. The day begins to break; and trembling light As if affrighted with this night's disaster, Steals through the farthest air, and by degrees Salutes my weary longings. Yet 'tis welcome, Though it betray me to the worst of fate Love and desire e'er suffered. Oh my Worthgood, Thy presence would have checked these passions; And shot delight through all the mists of sadness, To guide my fear safe through the paths of danger: But thou art lost, and all my joys are fled Not to return without thee.
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)
Silence your noyse, ye clamorous ministers Of this injustice. Bellamie is lost; Shee's lost to me. Nor her fierce Vncles rage Who whets your eagre aptnes to pursue me With threats or promises; nor his painted terrors Of lawes severity, could ever worke Vpon the temper of my resolute soule, To soften't into feare, till she was lot: Not all th'illusive horrors which the night Presents unto th'imagination T'affright a guilty conscience, could possesse me, Whilst I possest my Love: the dismall shrieks Of fatall Owles, and groanes of dying Mandrakes, Whilst her sost palme warm'd mine, were musicke to me, And were this hand but once more clasp't in hers, This should resist th'assault, inspir'd by love With more then humane vigour. Follow, follow, follow. Their light appeare's. No safety doth conist In passion or complaints. Night, let thine armes Againe receive me; and if no kinde minister Of better fate guide me to Bellamie; Be thou eternall. Follow, follow, follow. Come, wing your hasts: I'le sweeten all your labours With large rewards: doe but recover them, I'le ease your rents; exact no costly customes; Quarrell no more about your commons title. Good neighbours forward: London's not farre off. 'Tis so farre off, that I cannot see it. The day will soone discover it. That day is sure a notable informer; yet I believe He spyes more bad then he mends. Come, follow me this way. Yes, we will follow; but at some wiser distance: Stay neighbour let him goe. Shall wee rob our carcasses of sleepe all night, that have beene sufficiently tyr'd with the dayes toyles, for his reward? what will that be thinke you? a Christmas dinner; with a Chine of his great Oxe that dy'd at watering of the blayne. You say well neighbour: And a stale hare with a great pudding in her belly. And the discourse of his Worships hunting her: how many doubles shee made, and mock't his Worhips hope of a better dinner so long, till hee thought in his conference she was a Lancashire Witch. Yes neighbour, and a choller of Brawne that was fatten'd with stale porredge. And a goose that broke her necke, creeping through the hedge into the Parsons stubble. No neighbour, let the young couple goe, and much joy go with them. Let us take up our rests in this thicket, or the next house; for I am as sleepy as if I had eaten a Puppie. How, eat a Puppie▪ Yes, a Puppie; I heard our Landlords Carter speake it last Whitsontide in a Play. And I am as drousie as a Constable at midnight. Why then resolv'd: 'twill be day presently: let's put ont the candle, and go to bed, and farewel Landlord. The day begins to breake; and trembling light As if affrighted with this nights disaster, Steales through the farthest ayre, and by degrees Salutes my weary longings. Yet 'tis welcome, Though it betray me to the worst of fate Love and desire e're suffer'd. Oh my Worthgood, Thy presence would have check't these passions; And shot delight through all the mists of sadnesse, To guide my feare safe through the paths of danger: But thou art lost, and all my joyes are fled Not to returne without thee.