The Ladies' Privilege (The Lady's Privilege) · chunk 27 of 31
Glapthorne, Henry · published 1640 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1640] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court unassigned nearest T28 Marriage-making: weddings, brides and ma · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T28: married, marriage, wedding, day, bride, father, wife, luce, love, husband.
'tis but vain: a Saint may sooner be o'ercome to sell His native Piety: come thou grim man, Thou art to me more lovely than the face of perfect Beauty: Do thy office, it will free me From these perplexities. Well my Lord, Since I'm unworthy to enjoy in life Your fair society, my soul shall haste To wait on you to death, there is no bliss Without your presence, since you will not have Mercy on your own life, by your example I'll be as harsh to mine, I'll go Before you to the other world, And be your loved Ghosts Harbinger. Hold, hold the Lady— Let no hand presume to seize me, For the meanest touch that shall Endeavour to prevent my will Shall urge my speedier ruin: Good my Lord, Shall I have answer? I would fain be going On my long journey. I'm confounded In my imagination, I must yield, You have enforced a benefit upon me, I Can hardly thank you for, yet I will try To love you as my wife; that I were lost In Clouds of black forgetfulness. My Lord, Your pardon's sealed as soon as by the Priest You are conjoined in marriage: I'll not leave you Till't be solemnized, Hymen light thy Pine, Death's tapers fade at the clear flame of thine. IS the Priest prepared For his Hymn after Nuptials, and the virgins Ready to gratulate the Bride, and Bridegroom With the appointed dance? The Priest I think Has the song perfect, but it is a question Among the wisest, whether in the City There be seven Virgins to be found to furnish The dance as't should be; but you must accept them With all their faults; this music speaks their entrance. TRiumph appear, Hymen invites Thee to wait upon this feast, Mix thy joys with his delights, 'Tis the General is chief guest. Bid the Drum not leave to teach, The Soldiers fainting heart to beat, Nor wars loud music Canon cease, Breasts with deathful fire to heat. Thy waving Ensigns in the air display, The General lives, 'tis triumphs Holiday; Come bright virtues that reside In heaven, as in your proper sphere, Though all contained in the fair bride, Chastity do thou first appear, With Temperance and innocent grace, Rose-coloured Modesty and truth, Dance harmless measures in this place, With health, and a perpetual youth: And all your Virgin Trophies bring away, To grace these Nuptials, Triumphs Holiday. You have our hearty thanks, and we shall study To give you fair requital; come my Lord Erect your drowsy spirits, let your soul, Dance airy measures in your jocund breast; This is a day on which each Bridegroom ought To wear no earth about him; air and fire Are Hymen's proper elements, your mirth Ought to infuse into your frolic guests, An humour apt for revelling and sport: Your disposition is more dull, than if You were to be chief muttoner at a corpse: For shame shake off this sadness.
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)
Tis but vaine: a Saint may sooner be o're-come to sell His native Piety: come thou grim man, Thou art to me more lovely then the face of perfect Beauty: Do thy office, it will free me From these perplexities. Well my Lord, Since I'me unworthy to enjoy in life Your faire society, my soule shall hast To waite on you to death, there is no blisse Without your presence, since you will not have Mercy on your owne life, by your example Ile be as harsh to mine, Ile goe Before you to the other world, And be your lov'd Ghosts Harbenger. Hold, hold the Lady— Let no hand presume to seize me, For the meanest touch that shall Endeavour to prevent my will Shall urge my speedier ruine: Good my Lord, Shall I have answer? I would fayne be going On my long journy. I'me confounded In my imagination, I must yield, You have enforc'd a benefit upon me, I Can hardly thank you for, yet I will try To love you as my wife; that I were lost In Clouds of black forgetfulnesse. My Lord, Your pardon's seal'd as soone as by the Priest You are conjoyn'd in marriage: Ile not leave you Till't be solemniz'd, Hymen light thy Pine, Deaths tapers fade at the cleare flame of thine. IS the Priest prepar'd For his Hymne after Nuptialls, and the virgins Ready to gratulate the Bride, and Bridegroome With the appoynted dance? The Priest I thinke Has the song perfect, but it is a question Among the wisest, whether in the City There be seven Virgins to be found to furnish The dance as't should be; but you must accept them With all their faults; this musicke speaks their enterance. TRiumph appeare, Hymen invites Thee to wait upon this feast, Mixe thy joyes with his delights, 'Tis the Generall is chiefe guest. Bid the Drumme not leave to teach, The Souldiers fainting heart to beate, Nor warres loud musicke Canon cease, Breasts with deathfull fire to heate. Thy waving Ensignes in the aire display, The Generall lives, tis triumphes Holyday; Come bright vertues that reside In heaven, as in your proper spheare, Though all contain'd in the faire bride, Chastity doe thou first appear, With Temperance and innocent grace, Rose-colourd Modesty and truth, Dance harmlesse measures in this place, With health, and a perpetuall youth: And all your Virgin Trophies bring away, To grace these Nuptialls, Triumphs Holyday. You have our hearty thanks, and we shal study To give you faire requitall; come my Lord Erect your drowsie spirits, let your soule, Dance ayry measures in your jocund breast; This is a day on which each Bridegroome ought To weare no earth about him; ayre and fire Are Hymens proper elements, your mirth Ought to infuse into your frolicke guests, An humour apt for revelling and sport: Your disposition is more dull, than if You were to be chiefe mout'ner at a Coarse: For shame shake off this sadnesse.