Suckling, John · published 1638 · first performed or written 1637 (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
He is the man then— blush not Orithie, 'tis a sin to blush for loving him, though none at all to love him. I can admit of rivalship without a jealousy— nay shall be glad of it: we two will sit, and think, and think, and sigh, and sigh, and talk of love— and of Thersames. Thou shalt be praising of his wit, while I admire he governs it so well: like this thing, said thus, th'other thing thus done, and in good language him for these adore, while I want words to do't, yet do it more. Thus will we do, till death itself shall us divide, and then whose fate 'tshall be to die first of the two, by legacy shall all her love bequeath, and give her stock to her that shall survive; for no one stock can serve, to love Thersames so as he'll deserve. What have we here impossibility? a constant night, and yet within the room that, that can make the day before the Sun? silent Aglaura too? I know not what to say: ●…s't to your pity, or your scorn, I owe the favour of this visit (Sir?) for such my fortune is, it doth deserve them both: And such thy beauty is, that it makes good all Fortunes, sorrow looks lovely here; and there's no man, that would not entertain his griefs as friends, were he but sure they'd show no worse upon him— but I forget myself, I came to chide. If I have sinned so high, that yet my punishment equals not my crime, do Sir; I should be loath to die in debt to Justice, how ill soe'er I paid the scores of Love.— And those indeed thou hast but paid indifferently to me, I did deserve at least fair death, not to be murdered thus in private: that was too cruel, Mistress. And I do know thou dost repent, and wilt yet make me satisfaction: What satisfaction Sir? I am no monster, never had two hearts; One is by holy vows another's now, and could I give it you, you would not take it, for'tis alike impossible for me, to love again, as you love Perjury. O Sir! consider, what a flame love is. If by rude means you think to force a light, that of itself it would not freely give, you blow it out, and leave yourself i'th' dark. The Prince once gone, you may as well persuade the light to stay behind, when the Sun posts to th'other world, as me; alas! we two, have mingled souls more than two meeting brooks; and whosoever is designed to be the murderer of my Lord, (as sure there is, has angered heaven so far, that 'tas decreed him to increase his punishment that way) would he but search the heart, when he has done, he there would find Aglaura murdered too.
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)
Hee is the man then— blush not Orithie, 'tis a sinne to blush for loving him, though none at all to love him. I can admit of rivalship without a jealousie—nay shall be glad of it: wee two will sit, and thinke, and thinke, and sigh, and sigh, and talke of love—and of Thersames. Thou shalt be praising of his wit, while I admire he governes it so well: like this thing, said thus, th'other thing thus done, and in good language him for these adore, while I want words to doo't, yet doe it more. Thus will wee doe, till death it selfe shall us divide, and then whose fate 'tshall be to die first of the two, by legacie shall all her love bequeath, and give her stock to her that shall survive; for no one stock can serve, to love Thersames so as hee'll deserve. What have wee here impossibilitie? a constant night, and yet within the roome that, that can make the day before the Sunne? silent Aglaura too? I know not what to say: s't to your pitie, or your scorne, I owe the favour of this visit (Sir?) for such my fortune is, it doth deserve them both: And such thy beautie is, that it makes good all Fortunes, sorrow lookes lovely here; and there's no man, that would not entertaine his griefes as friends, were hee but sure they'd shew no worse upon him—but I forget my selfe, I came to chide. If I have sinn'd so high, that yet my punishment equalls not my crime, doe Sir; I should be loth to die in debt to Justice, how ill soere I paid the scores of Love.— And those indeed thou hast but paid indifferently to mee, I did deserve at least faire death, not to be murthered thus in private: that was too cruell, Mistresse. And I doe know thou do'st repent, and wilt yet make mee satisfaction: What satisfaction Sir? I am no monster, never had two hearts; One is by holy vowes anothers now, and could I give it you, you would not take it, for'tis alike impossible for mee, to love againe, as you love Perjurie. O Sir! consider, what a flame love is. If by rude meanes you thinke to force a light, that of it selfe it would not freely give, you blow it out, and leave your selfe i'th' darke. The Prince once gone, you may as well perswade the light to stay behinde, when the Sun posts to th'other world, as mee; alas! wee two, have mingled soules more than two meeting brooks; and whosoever is design'd to be the murtherer of my Lord, (as sure there is, has anger'd heav'n so farre, that 'tas decreed him to encrease his punishment that way) would hee but search the heart, when hee has done, hee there would finde Aglaura murther'd too.