Rawlins, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1638 [1637-1639] (Annals) tragedy · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 455 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Have I ungrateful man, like to the Sun, That from the Heavens sends down his Cherishing beams on some religious plant, That with a bow the worship of the Thankful, pays the preserver of his life, And growth: But thou, unthankful man, In scorn of me, to love a calendar of many Years. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious Rite, The Heathens used to pay their gods, I offer up. A life, that until now ne'er knew a price; Made dear because you love it. Arise; it is a Ceremony due unto none but heaven. Here I'll take root, and grow into my grave, Unless dear god less you forget to be Cruel to him adores you with a zeal, Equal to that of Hermits. I believe you, and thus exchange a devout vow, Humbly upon my knees, that though the Thunder of my brother's rage should force divorce, Yet in my soul to love you; witness all The winged inhabitants of the highest heaven. If sudden lightning, such as vengeful Iove Clears the infectious air with, threatened to Scorch my daring soul to Cinders, if I Did love you, Lady, I would love you, spite Of the dogged Fates, or any power Those cursed Hags set to oppose me. Be thyself again. Madam, your Brother. Fie, you have done it ill, our brother, say you? Pray you take it home and mend it. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave. Love I am made thy envy; I am he This Votress prays unto, as unto thee: tailors are more than men; and here's the odds, They make fine Ladies; Ladies make them gods: And so they are not men, but far above them: This makes the Tailors proud; then Ladies love them. What's he that past? My tailor. There's something in his face I sure should know. But sister to your Beads; pray for distressed Scivel; Whilst I mount some watch tower, To o'erlook our enemies, religious laws Commands me fight for my loved country's cause. Love bids me pray, and on his Altars make A Sacrifice, for my loved tailor's sake. Stand. Stand. Stand. Give the word through the Army, stand there. Stand, stand, stand, stand hoe. Bid the Drum cease, whilst we embrace our love: Come my Philippa, like the twins of war, Laced in our freely Cornets, we're become The envy of those brain begotten gods, Mouldy Antiquity lifted to Heaven: Thus we exchange our breath; My honoured Lord, Duty commands, I pay it back again, 'Twill waste me into smoke else, Can my body retain that breath, that would Consume an Army, dressed in a rougher habit. Play deliver (come I'm a gentle thief) The breath you stole.
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)
Have I ungratefull man, like to the Sun, That from the Heavens sends downe his Cherishing beames on some religious plant, That with a bow the worship of the Thankfull, payes the preserver of his life, And groth: But thou, unthankfull man, In scorne of me, to love a Callender of many Yeares. Madam, upon my knees, a superstitious Rite, The Heathens us'd to pay their gods, I offer up. A life, that untill now nere knew a price; Made deare because you love it. Arise; it is a Ceremony due unto none but heaven. Here Ile take roote, and grow into my grave, Unlesse deare god lesse you forget to bee Cruell to him adores you with a zeale, Equall to that of Hermits. I beleeve you, and thus exchange a devout vow, Humbly upon my knees, that though the Thunder of my brothers rage should force divorce, Yet in my soule to love you; witnesse all The wing'd inhabitants of the highest heaven. If suddaine lightning, such as vengefull Iove Cleares the infectious ayre with, threatn'd to Scorch my daring soule to Cynders, if I Did love you, Lady, I wo'd love you, spight Of the dogged Fates, or any power Those curst Hagges set to oppose me. Be thy selfe againe. Madam, your Brother. Fye, you have done it ill, our brother, say you? Pray you take it home and mend it. Madam, it shall be done; I take my leave. Love I am made thy envy; I am he This Votresse prayes unto, as unto thee: Taylers are more than men; and here's the odds, They make fine Ladyes; Ladyes make them gods: And so they are not men, but farre above them: This makes the Tailers proud; then Ladies love them. What's he that past? My Tailer. Theres something in his face I sure should know. But sister to your Beads; pray for distress'd Scivel; Whilst I mount some watch tower, To o're-looke our enemies, religious lawes Commands me fight for my lov'd Countries cause. Love bids me pray, and on his Altars make A Sacrifice, for my lov'd Taylers sake. Stand. Stand. Stand. Give the word through the Army, stand there. Stand, stand, stand, stand hoe. Bid the Drum cease, whilst we embrace our love: Come my Philippa, like the twins of warre, Lac'd in our freely Cornets, we're become The envy of those braine begotten gods, Mouldy Antiquity lifted to Heaven: Thus we exchange our breath; My honour'd Lord, Duty commands, I pay it backe againe, 'Twill waste me into smoake else, Can my body retaine that breath, that wou'd Consume an Army, drest in a rougher habit. Play deliver (come I'me a gentle thiefe) The breath you stole.