Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.80 · 523 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
This said: she cast a glance and spied my face, By sight whereof, Lord how she changed hue? So that for shame, I turned back a pace And to my home, myself in haste I drew: And as I could her woeful words rehearse, I set them down in this waymenting verse. Now Ladies you, that know by whom I sing, And feel the winter, of such frozen wills: Of courtesy, yet 'cause this noble spring, To sand his sun, above the highest hills: And so to shine, upon her fading sprays, Which now in woe, do wither thus always. Much like the seely Bird, which close in Cage is penned, So sing I now, not notes of joy, but lays of deep lament. And as the hooded Hawk, which hears the Partridge spring, Who though she feel herself fast tied, yet beats her bating wing: So strive I now to show, my feeble forward will, Although I know my labour lost, to hop against the Hill. The drops of dark disdain, did never drench my heart, For well I know I am beloved, if that might ease my smart. Ne yet the privy coals, of glowing iellosie, Can ever kindle needless fear, within my fantasy. The rigour of repulse, doth not renew my plaint, Nor choice of change doth move my moan, nor force me thus to faint. Only that pang of pain, which passeth all the rest, And cankerlike doth fret the heart, within the guiltless breast. Which is if any be, most like the pangs of death, That present grief now gripeth me, & strives to stop my breath. When friends in mind may meet, and heart in heart embrace, And absent yet are feign to plain, for lack of time and place: Then may I count, their love like seed, that soon is sown, Yet lacking drops of heavenvly dew, with weeds is overgrown. The Greyhound is aggrieved, although he see his game, If still in slip he must be stayed, when he would chase the same. So fares it now by me, who know myself beloved Of one the best, in each respect, that ever yet was proved. But since my luckless lot, forbids me now to taste, The dulcet fruits of my delight, therefore in woes I wast. And Swallow like I sing, as one enforced so, Since others reap the gainful crop, which I with pain did sow. Yet you that mark my song, excuse my Swallows voice, And bear with her unpleasant tunes, which cannot well rejoice. Had I or luck in love, or lease of liberty, Then should you hear some sweeter notes, so clear my throat would be. But take it thus in 'gree, and mark my plainsong well, No heart feels so much hurt, as that, which doth in absence devil. DEsire of Fame would force my feeble skill, To praise a Countess by her due desert: But dread of blame holds back my forward will, And quenched the coals which kindled in my heart. Thus am I plongd between dread and deep desire, To pay the dew which duty doth require.
Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico
Publication year (edition)
1575
First performance / composition (Annals)
1566
First performance (BritDrama)
1566 [1566-1567]
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Translation;Nonprofessional;University/Inns of Court
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 107 · TCP A01514 · DEEP 5007.03
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 3033–3084 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 49 of 68 in this edition
Length
523 words · 686 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T4 — Love-longing and the lover's complaintcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.796 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
This ſayed: ſhée caſt a glance and ſpied my face, By ſight whereof, Lord how ſhe chaunged hew? So that for ſhame, I turned backe a pace And to my home, my ſelfe in haſt I drew: And as I could hir woofull wordes reherſe, I ſet them downe in this waymenting verſe. Now Ladies you, that know by whom I ſing, And feele the winter, of ſuch frozen wills: Of curteſie, yet cauſe this noble ſpring, To ſend his ſunne, aboue the higheſt hilles: And ſo to ſhyne, vppon hir fading ſprayes, Which now in woe, do wyther thus alwayes. MVch like the ſéely Byrd, which cloſe in Cage is pent, So ſing I now, not notes of ioye, but layes of déepe lament. And as the hooded Hauke, which heares the Partrich ſpring, Who though ſhe féele hir ſelf faſt tied, yet beats hir bating wing: So ſtriue I now to ſhewe, my feeble forward will, Although I know my labour loſt, to hop againſt the Hill. The droppes of darke diſdayne, did neuer drench my hart, For well I know I am belou'd, if that might eaſe my ſmart. Ne yet the priuy coales, of glowing ielloſie, Could euer kindle néedleſſe feare, within my fantaſie. The rigor of repulſe, doth not renew my playnt, Nor choyce of change doth moue my mone, nor force me thus to faint. Onely that pang of payne, which paſſeth all the reſt, And cankerlike doth fret the hart, within the giltleſſe breſt. Which is if any bee, moſt like the panges of death, That preſent grief now gripeth me, & ſtriues to ſtop my breath. When friendes in mind may méete, and hart in hart embrace, And abſent yet are faine to playne, for lacke of time and place: Then may I compt, their loue like ſéede, that ſoone is ſowen, Yet lacking droppes of heauēly dew, with wéedes is ouergrowē. The Greyhound is agréeu'd, although he ſée his game, If ſtil in ſlippe he muſt be ſtayde, when he would chaſe the ſame. So fares it now by me, who know my ſelfe belou'd Of one the beſt, in eche reſpect, that euer yet was prou'd. But ſince my luckleſſe lot, forbids me now to taſte, The dulcet fruites of my delight, therfore in woes I waſt. And Swallow like I ſing, as one enforced ſo, Since others reape the gaineful crop, which I with pain did ſow. Yet you that marke my ſong, excuſe my Swallowes voyce, And beare with hir vnpleaſant tunes, which cannot wel reioyce. Had I or lucke in loue, or leaſe of libertie, Then ſhould you heare ſome ſwéeter notes, ſo cléere my throte would be. But take it thus in grée, and marke my playnſong well, No hart féeles ſo much hurt, as that, which doth in abſence dwell. DEſire of Fame would force my féeble ſkill, To prayſe a Counteſſe by hir dew deſert: But dread of blame holds backe my forward will, And quencht the coales which kindled in my hart. Thus am I plongd twene dread and déepe deſire, To pay the dew which dutie doth require.