Lower, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1622-1639] (Annals) not in BritDrama T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti typicality 0.89 · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
For your good We will expose our lives unto all hazards, For we account them yours, and not our own, Since by your means we live, and do enjoy them: What's your command? Sir, since you do acknowledge You owe to me your life and liberty, Your cure, and other courtesies beside, I am endangered now as you were then. 'Tis now my turn, and I am like to suffer In all these things, unless your gentle nature And pity do relieve me. How sweet Lady I do beseech you comes it? doth the thief Rapinus dare to offer violence Unto your chastity, or threat your death Unless you yield unto him? I will soon (So much I'm obliged unto your goodness) Find out a way to send that fiend to hell, Although I suffer for it twenty deaths, If this procure your fear. This is the least, (Although I know not well how to avoid him) Of what I suffer. Let me know it then: Your life and liberty endangered? In need too of a cure, and not that way? Strange mystery, unfold it I beseech you, That if it lie in my poor power, I may Make known how much I love and honour you. Sir, 'tis a secret, and requires to be Spoken to you in private all alone. Should I not be unmannerly to crave Your friend's retirement for a little space? madam, there needs no ceremony in Your ladyship's commands to us your vassals. Now you can help me by an easy way Without your hurt, for know I am your Patient, But am ashamed to lay to you open my wound: Imagine in what nature 'tis by these My tears, my blushes, my abrupted sighs, My broken speeches, my dejected eyes, My strange unwonted passions: more, I am Your prisoner too by the commanding power Of all subduing love, now 'tis in you To cure me, 'tis in you to give me life And liberty at once: O be not cruel Fair Prince, but help a poor distressed Lady, Who craves but love, and in that suit your best Construction: take it not in the worst sense, Nor think me aught immodest, though I have Opened my sore which was procured by Your most majestic carriage. Heavens defend So great a Princess, and so beautiful, Of such imperial fortunes, should descend So low in thought, to look on such a wretch As I am, being the map of misery, Griefs Emblem, yea the tennis ball of fortune, Tossed by her angry Racket evermore Beneath the line, into a thousand hazards— For her disport, I love you better Lady Than so, to work your downfall, and should ill Requite your favours that way: you that may For beauty, birth, or fortune, match with any The greatest Prince of the terrestrial orb. 'Twere sin in me not to be pardoned, To wrong you with my love in way of marriage, Who can assure you nothing for a dower But sorrow and affliction,
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)
For your good We will expose our lives unto all hazards, For we account them yours, and not our owne, Since by your meanes we live, and doe enjoy them: What's your command? Sir, since you doe acknowledge You owe to me your life and liberty, Your cure, and other courties besides, I am endanger'd now as you were then. 'Tis now my turne, and I am like to suffer In all these things, unlesse your gentle nature And pitty doe relieve me. How sweet Lady I doe beseech you comes it? doth the theefe Rapinus dare to offer violence Vnto your chastity, or threat your death Vnlesse you yeeld unto him? I will soone (So much I'm oblig'd unto your goodnesse) Finde out a way to send that fiend to hell, Although I suffer for it twenty deaths, If this procure your feare. This is the least, (Although I know not well how to avoid him) Of what I suffer. Let me know it then: Your life and liberty endangered? In need too of a cure, and not that way? Strange mystery, unfold it I beseech you, That if it lye in my poore power, I may Make knowne how much I love and honour you. Sir, 'tis a secret, and requires to be Spoken to you in private all alone. Should I not be unmannerly to crave Your friends retirement for a little space? Madame, there needs no ceremony in Your Ladiships commands to us your vassals. Now you can help me by an easie way Without your hurt, for know I am your Patient, But am asham'd to lay to you ope my wound: Imagine in what nature 'tis by these My teares, my blushes, my abrupted fighes, My broken speeches, my dejected eyes, My strange unwonted passions: more, I am Your prisoner too by the commanding power Of all subduing love, now 'tis in you To cure me, 'tis in you to give me life And liberty at once: O be not cruell Faire Prince, but help a poor distressed Lady, Who craves but love, and in that uit your best Construction: take it not in the worst sence, Nor thinke me ought immodest, though I have Open'd my sore which was procu by Your most majesticke carriage. Heavens defend So great a Princesse, and so beautifull, Of such imperiall fortunes, should descend So low in thought, to looke on such a wretch As I am, being the map of misery, Griefes Embleme, yea the tennis ball of fortune, Toss'd by her angry Racket evermore Beneath the line, into a thousand hazards— For her desport, I love you better Lady Then so, to worke your downefall, and should ill Requite your favours that way: you that may For beauty, birth, or fortune, match with any The greatest Prince of the terrestriall orbe. 'Twere sinne in me not to be pardoned, To wrong you with my love in way of marriage, Who can assure you nothing for a dower But sorrow and affliction,