Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.78 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
We are come Not to disturb, but heighten your delights. Can you show any tricks then? Love-tricks Lady. Can you run through a Hoop? or fetch up money With your eyelids backward? Can you pierce your Tongue, Or cut your Throat, and yet live after it? Do y'thinkthinke us Tumblers then, or Jugglers? Both; And truly these would please us far above Your Love-tricks. Shall I draw some Ribbon then Out of my Throat? Shall I cast a Lock upon Your pretty cheeks, or seal your lovely lips Up? What will content you when you have done? A kiss. We do not use to grant such favours gratis. What will you take to give one then? A Muffler. I perceive you are well skilled In the whole course of Love, you but keep off To make delights more sweet. You would do well To do so too. Why Madam? do not fear me: I snore not in my sleep; this Nose of mine Will not proclaim. 'Tis something Trumpetlike; I would not trust myself with such an Instrument. Methinks 'tis somewhat guilty. How I love This pretty, pettish, froward, wanton anger? Give me a Pleasure that I struggle for. That Favour's genuinely sweet, that's wrested. Fear him not Madam; I'll be your defence; My soul is linked and chained unto your Tongue. You speak in a fit dialect; you relish O'th' Language of the place whence you came lately. But to be serious now awhile, pray speak, What do you see in us fit for desire? You cannot love us possibly. By this kiss. Stand off. And this. Your Oath's not good in Law. Tell us, what wrong hath either of us done you, That you should seek thus to revenge yourselves? You are too scornful, we too easy; come Let's hurry 'em to some place of secrecy, Where all their scoffing shan't prevail: you two Quickly seize her. Help, help. Help, help. YE Villains hold. What is the matter? why this violence? A little Love-sport only; we were arguing Pro, and Con out of Plato, and are now Going to practise his Philosophy. What they style Love-sport only, and misname An arguing out of Plato, would have proved A true and downright Rape, if that your presence Had not become our Rescue. Wicked Villains, That in your miseries can't forget your vices, Acting those crimes today, which e'er the Sun Thrice set, will elsewhere be your Torture. Cannot The chain and hunger kill those seeds of evil, But even in the midst of your misfortunes, Your sports must be the robbing of fair honour, And Rapes your Recreations? which, an't please The Gods, you call Philosophy. Leave the place; Infection's busy where you breath; the next Attempt installs you in the Dungeon. Most worthy Sir, your Nobleness hath shown A mind beyond your fortune: though it be not Real as we could wish it, yet believe it You hold a perfect Royalty in the hearts Of those, whose honours you have now preserved.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
We are come Not to disturbe, but heighten your delights. Can you shew any trickes then? Love-trickes Lady. Can you run through a Hoope? or fetch up mony With your eye-lids backward? Can you peirce your Tongue, Or cut your Throat, and yet live after it? Do y'thinke us Tumblers then, or Jugglers? Both; And truly these would please us farre above Your Love-trickes. Shall I draw some Ribbon then Out of my Throat? Shall I cast a Lock upon Your pretty cheekes, or seale your lovely lippes Up? What will content you when you have done▪ A kisse. We doe not use to grant such favours gratis▪ What will you take to give one then? A Muffler. I perceive you are well skill'd In the whole course of Love, you but keepe off To make delights more sweet. You would doe well To doe so too. Why Madam? doe not feare me: I snore not in my sleepe; this Nose of mine Will not proclaime. 'Tis something Trumpet-like; I would not trust my selfe with such an Instrument▪ Methinkes 'tis somewhat guilty▪ How I love This pretty, pettish, froward, wanton anger? Give me a Pleasure that I struggle for. That Favour's genuinely sweet, that's wrested. Feare him not Madam; I'le be your defence; My soule is link'd and chayn'd unto your Tongue. You speake in a fit dialect; you rellish O'th' Language of the place whence you came lately. But to be serious now awhile, pray speake, What doe you see in us fit for desire? You cannot love us possibly. By this kisse. Stand off. And this. Your Oath's not good in Law. Tell us, what wrong hath either of us done you, That you should seeke thus to revenge your selves▪ You are too scornefull, we too easie; come Let's hurry 'em to some place of secrecie, Where all their scoffing shan't prevaile: you two Quickly seize her. Helpe, helpe. Helpe, helpe. YEE Villaines hold. What is the matter? why this violence? A little Love-sport only; we were arguing Pro, and Con out of Plato, and are now Going to practise his Philosophy. What they stile Love-sport only, and misname An arguing out of Plato, would have prov'd A true and downe-right Rape, if that your presence Had not become our Rescue. Wicked Villaines, That in your miseries can't forget your vices, Acting those crimes to day, which e're the Sun Thrice set, will elsewhere be your Torture. Cannot The chayne and hunger kill those seedes of evill, But even in the midst of your misfortunes, Your sports must be the robbing of faire honour▪ And Rapes your Recreations? which, an't please The Gods, you call Philosophy. Leave the place; Infection's busie where you breath; the next Attempt installs you in the Dungeon. Most worthy Sir, your Noblenesse hath showne A minde beyond your fortune: though it be not Reall as we could wish it, yet beleeve it You hold a perfect Royalty in the hearts Of those, whose honours you have now preserv'd.