The Most Virtuous and Godly Susanna · chunk 4 of 29
Garter, Thomas · published 1578 · first performed or written 1569 [1563-1569] (Annals) moral unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
And when that they have got their wills, and so have wrought her shame myself will blow the leaden Trump of cruel slanderous fame, Lo thus my Dad I please I trow, and thus my nature show, Thus shall each man my power and might in every corner blow, And say that though the Devil himself, could not tempt Susan's grace The wit of Master Ill Report hath her and it defaced, Oh goodly wit, oh noble brain, whence cometh this device. Come in Master Sensualitas I pray thee, reach me thy hand and I will help thee. By my truth Voluptas I have need of thy aid, Such is my secret sorrow, my senses are dismayed. Though you judge me scant worth to be a proctor, Mark me well now, and I will play the Doctor. Amor vincit omnia, I nose cedamas Amori, Love overcometh every thing, love can each Mount remove, The Gods of old, and every man are subject unto love. Mark his tale. Trouble him not. Res est Solicia, Plena ten oris amor, How say you my masters this is good clamour▪ Love hath a pleasure in itself, yet love is full of fear, Love helps and it doth harm a man, love is not this good gear, Love from the Senses of a man can steal away the might, Love can make mad the mind of man, and love can blind the sight, But is not he a jolly man that love can so subdue, As he can lose it when he list, and it again renew, My friend God speed, Soft swift not friends so soon, Why sir I never gave you cause of offence, Nor to do it is our pretence, You lie like crafty knaves both, God speed so carterly to him ye never see before, For you and your speed, a stinking turd for you both, gogs blood were ye brought up at the cart, To break a man's tale in such sort, now I beshrew your heart, Oh blame us not sir I pray you, your talk I trow was of love, And hearing your arguments your wits did us move, To speak to you briefly for feeling that pain, Your Arguments said you could help us again. And though I can, what is that to thee, That you will sir I hope verily. Nay soft masters a while, it is a condition, That never yet was used, by expert Physician, His Patient or Cure to practise to heal, Before his disease he know very well, And therefore I say your secrets descry, Or else for your help I cannot apply. Marry sir love is my sickness. And what is the cause of your weakness, Love to good Gentleman. And for thy fair words, I will help thee if I can, But those that stand by will think it to strange, That I unto health your sickness should change. And business at this time doth call me away, And therefore farewell till another day.
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)
And when that they haue got their wils, and so haue wrought her shame My selfe will blow the leaden Trumpe of cruell slaunderous fame, Lo thus my Dad I please I trow, and thus my nature showe, Thus shall ech man my power and might in euery corner blow, And say that though the Deuill himselfe, could not tempt Susans grace The wit of Mayster Ill Report hath her and it defaste, Oh goodly wit, oh noble brayne, whence commeth this deuyce. ¶Come in Mayster Sensualitas I pray thee, Reche me thy hande and I will helpe thée. ¶By my truth Voluptas I haue néede of thy ayde, Such is my secrete sorrow, my sences are dismayde. ¶Though you iudge me scant worth to be a proctor, Marke me well now, and I will play the Doctor. Amor vincit omnia, I nose cedamas Amori, Loue ouercommeth euery thing, loue can eche Mount remoue, The Gods of olde, and euery man are subiect vnto loue▪ ¶Marke his tale. ¶Trouble him not. ¶Res est Solicia, Plena ten oris amor, How say you my maysters this is good clamor▪ Loue hath a pleasure in it selfe, yet loue is full of feare, Loue helpes and it doth harme a man, loue is not this good geare, Loue from the Sences of a man can steale away the might, Loue can make mad the mynde of man, and loue can blynde the sighte, But is not he a iolly man that loue can so subdue, As he can lose it when he list, and it agayne renue, ¶My friend God spéede, ¶Soft swift not friendes so soone, ¶Why syr I neuer gaue you cause of offence, ¶Nor to doe it is our pretence, ¶You lye lyke crafty knaues boeth, God spéede so carterly to him ye neuer sée before, For you and your speede, a stinking turde for you both, Gogges blood were ye brought vp at the cart, To breake a mans tale in such sort, now I beshrew your hart, ¶Oh blame vs not sir I pray you, your talke I trow was of loue, And hearing your argumentes your wits did vs moue, To speake to you breeely for feeling that payne, Your Argumentes sayd you could helpe vs agayne. ¶And though I can, what is that to thée, ¶That you will syr I hope verily. ¶Nay soft maysters a whyle, it is a condicion, That neuer yet was vsed, by expert Phisition, His Patient or Cure to practise to heale, Before his disease he know very well, And therefore I say your secretes discrye, Or else for your helpe I cannot applye. ¶Mary syr loue is my sicknesse. ¶And what is the cause of your weakenesse, ¶Loue to good Gentleman. ¶And for thy fayre wordes, I will helpe thée if I can, But those that stande by will thinke it to straunge, That I vnto health your sicknesse should chaunge. And busynesse at this time doth call me away, And therefore farewell till another day.