Shirley, James · published 1640 · first performed or written 1631 [licensed for stage, May 17] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
'tis your favour, Yet when I commit a peccadillo Against your brightness, I deserve to be Extinguished your presence for't, I did love You Madam, as I remember when I was an Infant, How. We are Infants you will grant When we cannot speak, and I loved full eight months And a half ere I had power to tell you on't I'm certain. I was not worth so much. Nay for that Madam I'll show myself deserving, were you worthy 'twere the less act of mine to love you, That were a poor thing, I do not stand on worth. Madam I would not have you think so ignobly of me, That I affect you for your worth, I'd rather Upon my honour have you in your smock, Than all the Ladies in the world stark naked. Now your language is course. You shall pardon me for that. Your Lordship's feather waves to much toward the 'tis now in true point. (East, My love is pure and like the Sun transparent. Now you Compliment, I know You're excellent at it. Troth not I Lady, I cannot Compliment, I do but Refulgent your beauty, whose mellifluous voice pierces the ear— faith Madam credit me I ne'er could compliment in my life: Most fair, Whom young Apollo courted for her hair. There are poetical furies in the City, But I converse not with 'em. Were ever cheeks of roses, locks of amber Ordained to be imprisoned in a chamber, Laura I do but piddle, a pretender, I know not how to Compliment. You now do. Alas not I, I cannot make verses neither; Thy dainty seal of Virgin wax, That nothing but impression lacks. Your Lordship's cloak discovers not sufficiently the riches of the inside. An excellent Poet. I'll tell you Madam a strange thing, you see These trifles; before I was in love, I could Not ha' made an acrostic in a day, Sometimes two. Now you can make Chronograms. I think I can, and Anagrams for a need. signior you are wonderful improved, Love has inspired you richly. I perceive Cupid is a mute too. Oh now I cannot sleep for the multitude, Of Verses that are capering in my skull. I wonder you are not mad. You may. A hair in your honour's lock is disordered. But I've a gift to help it, I allow myself set times to vent 'em, they would blow Me up else. As how pray. Why thus i'th' morning When I have said my prayers in Verse, which fall From me, and I ne'er think on 'em, next my heart I scribble out an ode, after my breakfast I fall upon a Satire, when I've railed myself into a fresh stomach, I dine, Which done, because it is not good to study Upon repletion or full stomach, you Understand me; for a matter of two hours I dream as it comports with our Italian To sleep, than I say, I dream familiarly An Heroic Poem.
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)
Tis your favour, Yet when I commit a peccadillo Against your brightnesse, I deserve to be Extinguished your presence for't, I did love You Madam, as I remember when I was an Infant, How. We are Infants you will grant When we cannot speake, and I loved full eight moneths And a halfe ere I had power to tell you on't Ime certaine. I was not worth so much. Nay for that Madam Ile shew my selfe deserving, were you worthy Twere the lesse act of mine to love you, That were a poore thing, I doe not stand on worth. Madam I would not have you thinke so ignobly of me, That I affect you for your worth, Ide rather Vpon my honour have you in your smocke, Than all the Ladies in the world starke naked. Now your language is course. You shall pardon me for that. Your Lordships fether waves to much toward the Tis now in true point. (East, My love is pure and like the Sun transparent. Now you Complement, I know Y'are excellent at it. Troth not I Lady, I cannot Complement, I doe but Refulgent your beauty, whose mellifluous voice Peirces the eare—faith Madam credit me I nere could complement in my life: Most faire, Whom young Apollo courted for her haire. There are poeticall furies in the City, But I converse not with em. Were ever cheekes of roses, locks of amber Ordain'd to be imprison'd in a chamber, Laura I doe but piddle, a pretender, I know not how to Complement. You now doe. Alas not I, I cannot make verses neither; Thy dainty seale of Virgin wax, That nothing but impression lackes. Your Lordships cloake discovers not sufficiently the riches of the inside. An excellent Poet. Ile tell you Madam a strange thing, you see These trifles; before I was in love, I could Not ha made an Acrosticke in a day, Sometimes two. Now you can make Chronograms. I thinke I can, and Anagrams for a need. Signiour you are wonderfull improv'd, Love has inspir'd you richly. I perceive Cupid is a mute too. Oh now I cannot sleepe for the multitude, Of Verses that are capring in my skull. I wonder you are not mad. You may. A haire in your honours locke is disordered. But I've a gift to helpe it, I allow My selfe set times to vent em, they would blow Me up else. As how pray. Why thus ith' morning When I have said my prayers in Verse, which fall From me, and I nere thinke on em, next my heart I scrible out an ode, after my breakefast I fall upon a Satire, when I've rail'd My selfe into a fresh stomacke, I dine, Which done, because it is not good to study Vpon repletion or full stomacke, you Vnderstand me; for a matter of two houres I dreame as it comports with our Italian To sleepe, then I say, I dreame familiarly An Heroicke Poem.