Randolph, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1630 [licensed for stage, Nov 26] (Annals) pastoral · King's Revels Company · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 538 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Nay, Laurinda, You have bound yourself to stand to my award; The sentence now is past, and you must love him, It cannot be reversed; you are deceived, He is not guilty of this sin, his love To me, for mine, makes him against his conscience Seem to confess it, but believe him not. Nor will, he is all falsehood, and ingratitude. Laurinda, you may spare in this harsh language To utter your dislike: had you a beauty More than immortal, and a face whose glory far outshined Angels, I would make my choice Here, and no where but here; her virtue now Moves a more noble flame within my breast Then ere your beauty did; I am enamoured More of her soul, then ever yet I doted Upon your face: I do confess the fact; Pardon me virtuous maid, for though the action Be worthy death, the object most condemns me! Take me to death Corymbus; Amarillis, I go to write my story of repentance With the same ink, wherewith thou wrotes before The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell. Laurinda, and Alexis, do you call The Shepherds, and the virgins of Sicilia To see him sacrificed, whose death must make There loves more fortunate; this day shall be Happy to all Sicilians, but to me. Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort Which I shall take when my revenge is done, Will something ease the sorrow for my son. Amarillis, prithee call Amyntas to me, And Thestylis: I fain would have mine eye Behold them once again before I die. Come my Laurinda, through how many chances, Suspicions, errors, sorrows, doubts, and fears Love leads us to our pleasures; many storms Have we sailed through my Sweet, but who could fear A tempest, that had hope to harbour here. All, all but the distressed Amarillis Are happy, or less wretched; fair Laurinda Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus Hath lost a son, yet mitigates his grief In Claius death, my father Claius dies Yet joys to have the son of his old enemy A partner of his sorrows; my father loses Only himself; and Damon too no more; Amyntas but a father, only I Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon, And myself too; A father with Amyntas, And all the rest in Damon, and which more Affects me, I am cause of all; Pilumnus Had not else lost his son, nor had Amyntas Wept for a Father, nor poor Thestylis Bewailed a brother; Damon might have lived, And Claius but for me; all circumstances Concurreto make my miseries complete, And sorrows perfect: for I lost my father As soon as I had found him, and my Damon As soon as I had found he loved me: thus All I can find is loss; o too too wretched, Distressed virgin! when they both are dead Visit their Ashes, and first weep an hour On Claius Urn, then go, and spend another At Damon's; thence again go wet the tomb Of thy dead father, and from thence return Back to thy lover's grave; thus spend thy age In sorrows; and till death do end thy cares Betwixt these two equally share thy tears.
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)
Nay, Laurinda, You have bound your selfe to stand to my award; The sentence now is past, and you must love him, It cannot be revers'd; you are deceiv'd, He is not guilty of this sinne, his love To me, for mine, makes him against his conscience Seeme to confesse it, but believe him not. Nor will, he is all falshood, and ingratitude. Laurinda, you may spare in this harsh language To utter your dislike: had you a beauty More then immortall, and a face whose glory Farre outshind Angels, I would make my choyce Here, and no where but here; her vertue now Moves a more noble flame within my brest Then ere your beauty did; I am enamour'd More of her soule, then ever yet I doted Upon your face: I doe confesse the fact; Pardon me vertuous maid, for though the action Be worthy death, the object most condemnes mee! Take me to death Corymbus; Amarillis, I goe to write my story of repentance With the same inke, wherewith thou wrotes before The legend of thy love, farewell, farewell. Laurinda, and Alexis, doe you call The Sheapheards, and the virgins of Sicilia To see him sacrific'd, whose death must make There loves more fortunate; this day shall be Happy to all Sicilians, but to mee. Yet come thou cursed Claius, the sweet comfort Which I shall take when my revenge is done, Will something ease the sorrow for my sonne. Amarillis, prethee call Amyntas to mee, And Thestylis: I faine would have mine eye Behold them once again before I dye. Come my Laurinda, through how many chances, Suspicions, errors, sorrowes, doubts, and feares Love leads us to our pleasures; many stormes Have we sail'd through my Sweet, but who could feare A tempest, that had hope to harbour here. All, all but the distressed Amarillis Are happy, or lesse wretched; fair Laurinda Is ready for a wedding, old Pilumnus Hath lost a sonne, yet mitigates his griefe In Claius death, my father Claius dies Yet joyes to have the sonne of his old enemy A partner of his sorrowes; my father looses Only himselfe; and Damon too no more; Amyntas but a father, onely I Have lost all these; I have lost Claius, Damon, And my selfe too; A father with Amyntas, And all the rest in Damon, and which more Affects mee, I am cause of all; Pilumnus Had not else lost his sonne, nor had Amyntas Wept for a Father, nor poore Thestylis Bewail'd a brother; Damon might have liv'd, And Claius but for mee; all circumstances Concurreto make my miseries compleat, And sorrowes perfect: for I lost my father As soone as I had found him, and my Damon As soone as I had found he lov'd mee: thus All I can find is losse; o too too wretched, Distressed virgin! when they both are dead Visit their Ashes, and first weepe an howre On Claius Vrne, then go, and spend another At Damon's; thence again goe wet the tombe Of thy dead father, and from thence returne Back to thy lovers grave; thus spend thy age In sorrowes; and till death doe end thy cares Betwixt these two equally share thy teares.