Shirley, James · published 1639 · first performed or written 1626 [licensed for stage, Feb 9] (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Hay ho, who would have thought I should have been in love with a stripling, have I seen so many maidenheads suffer before me, and must mine come to the block at forty years old, if this Diego have the grace to come on, I shall have no power to keep myself chaste any longer; how many maids have been overrun with this love? but Here's my Lady. Sir, you love my sister. With an obedient heart. Where do you think Don Antonio hath made choice To place his love? There where I wish it may grow older in desire, And be crowned with fruitful happiness. Hath your affection had no deeper root, That 'tis rent up already, I had thought It would have stood a Winter, but I see A Summer storm hath killed it, fare you well sir. How's this, a Summer's storm! Lady by the honour of your birth, Put off these clouds, you maze me, take off The wonder you have put upon Valasco, And solve these riddles. You love Berinthia. With a devoted heart, else may I die Contempt of all mankind, not my own soul Is dearer to me. And yet you wish Antonio may be crowned With happiness in his love, he loves Birinthia. How? Beyond expression, to see how a good nature Free from dishonour in itself, is backward To think another guilty, suffers itself Be poisoned with opinion, did your eyes Empty their beams so much in admiration Of your Berinthia's beauty, you left none To observe your own abuses, Doth not Antonio dedicate his thoughts To your acceptance, 'tis impossible, I heard him praise you to the heavens, above 'em; Made himself hoarse but to repeat your virtues As he had been in ecstasy; love Birinthia? Hell is not blacker than his soul, if he Love any goodness but yourself. That lesson he with impudence hath read To my own ears, but shall I tell you sir? We are both made but properties to raise Him to his partial ends, flattery is The stalking horse of policy, saw you not, How many flames he shot into her eyes When they were parting, for which she paid back Her subtle tears, he wrung her by the hand, Seemed with the greatness of his passion To have been o'er borne, Oh cunning treachery! Worthy our justice, true be commended me; But could you see the Fountain that sent forth So many cozening streams, you would say Styx Were Christ all to it, and waste not to the Count, Whom he supposed was in pursuit of me; Nay, whom he knew did love me, that he might Fire him the more to consummate my marriage That I disposed he might have of access To his beloved Berinthia, the end Of his desires I can confirm it, he prayed To be so happy with my father's leave To be her amorous servant, which he nobly Denied, partly expressing your engagements; If you have least suspicion of this truth: Butdee' think she love you?
seed 43: T31 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hay ho, who would have thought I should have benne in love with a stripling, have I seene so many maiden-heades snffer before me, and must mine come to the blocke at fortie yeares old, if this Diego have the grace to come on, I shall have no power to keepe my selfe chast any longer; how many maides have beene overrunne with this love? but eres my Lady. Sir, you love my sister. With an obedient heart. Where do you think Don Antonio hath made choice To place his love? There where I wish it may grow older in desire, And be crown'd with fruitfull happinesse. Hath your aff ction had no deeper roote, That tis rent up already, I had thought It would have stood a Winter, but J see A Summer storme hath kil'd it, fare you well sir. How's this, a Summers storme! Lady by the honour of your birth, Put off these cloudes, you maze me, take off The wonder you have put upon Valasco, And solve these riddles. You love B rinthia. With a devoted heart, else may I die Contempt of all mankinde, not my owne soule Is deerer to me. And yet you wish Antonio may be crown'd With happinesse in his love, he loves Birinthia. How? Beyond expression, to see how a good nature Free from dishonour in it selfe, is backward To thinke another guilty, suffers it selfe Be poisoned with opinion, did your eyes Emptie their beames so much in admiration Of your Berinthias beauty, you left none To observe your owne abuses, Doth not Antonio dedicare his thoughts To your acceptance, 'tis impossible, I heard him praise you to the heavens, above 'em; Made himselfe hoarse but to repeate your vertues As he had beene in extasie; love Birinthia? Hell is not blacker than his soule, if he Love any goodnesse but your selfe. That lesson he with impudence hath reade To my owne eares, but shall I tell you sir? We are both made but properties to raise Him to his partiall ends, flattery is The stalkeing horse of pollicy, saw you not, How many flames he shot into her eyes When they were parting, for which she pay'd backe Her subtill teares, he wrung her by the hand, Seem'd with the greatnesse of his passion To have beene o're borne, Oh cunning treachery! Worthy our justice, true be commended me; But could you see the Fountaine that sent forth So many c zening streames, you would say Styx Were Christ all to it, and wast not to the Count, Whom he suppos'd was in pursuite of me; Nay, whom he knew did love me, that he might Fire him he more to consummate my marriage That I disposed he might have of accesse To his belov'd Berinthia, the end Of his desires I can confirme it, he praid To be so happy with my fathers leave To be her amorous servant, which he nobly Denied, partly expressing your engagements; If you have least suspition of this truth: But dee' thinke she love you?