Lyly, John · published 1584 · first performed or written c.1583 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 525 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
ay, but I deny your Antecedent. ay, but you shall not. Have I not touched him Criticus? You have both done learnedly: for as sure as he is a smith, thou art a devil. And then he a devil, because a smith: for that it was his reason to make me a devil being a smith. There is no reasoning with these Mechanical dolts, whose wits are in their hands, not in their heads. Be not choleric, you are wise: but let us take up this matter with a song. I am content, my voice is as good as my reason. Than shall we have sweet music. But come, I will not break of. What unacquainted thoughts are these Phao, far unfit for thy thoughts, unmeet for thy birth, thy fortune, thy years, for Phao: unhappy, canst thou not be content to behold the sun, but thou must covet to build thy nest in the Sun? Doth Sapho bewitch thee, whom all the Ladies in Sicily could not woo: Yea, poor Phao, the greatness of thy mind is far above the beauty of thy face, and the hardness of thy fortune beyond the bitterness of thy words. Die Phao, Phao die: for there is no hope if thou be wise, nor safety, if thou be fortunate. Ah Phao, the more thou seekest to suppress those mounting affections, they soar the loftier, & the more thou wrestlest with them the stronger they wax, not unlike unto a ball, which the harder it is thrown against the earth, the higher it boundeth into the air: or our sicilian stone, which groweth hardest by hammering. O divine love, and therefore divine, because love, whose deity no conceit can compass, and therefore no authority can constrain, as miraculous in working as mighty, & no more to be suppressed then comprehended. how now Phao, whether art thou carried, committing idolatry with that God, whom thou hast cause to blaspheme. O Sapho, fair Sapho; peace miserable wretch, enjoy thy care in covert, we are willow in thy hat, and bay in thy heart. Lead a Lamb in thy hand, & a Fox in thy head, a dove on the back of thy hand, & a sparrow in the palm. Gold boileth best, when it bubbleth least, water runneth smoothest, where it is deepest. Let thy love hang at thy heart's bottom, not at the tongue's brim. Things untold, are undone, there can be no greater comfort, than to know much, nor any less labour, than to say nothing. But ah thy beauty Sapho, thy beauty. Beginnest thou to blab? I blab it Phao, as long as thou blabbest her beauty. Bees that die with honey, are buried with harmony. swans that end their lives with songs, are covered when they are dead, with flowers: and they that till their latter gasp commend beauty, shall be ever honoured with benefits. In these extremities I will go to none other Oracle, than Sibylla, whose old years have not been idle in these young attempts, & whose sound advice may mitigate (though the heavens cannot remove) my miseries. O Sapho, sweet Sapho, Sapho. Sibilla?
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)
I, but I denie your Antecedent. I, but you shal not. Haue I not toucht him Cryticus? You haue both done learnedly: for as sure as he is a smith, thou art a diuell. And then he a deuill, because a smith: for that it was his reasō to make me a deuil being a smith. There is no reasoning with these Mechanical doltes, whose wits are in their hands, not in their heads. Be not cholericke, you are wise: but let vs take vp this matter with a song. I am content, my voice is as good as my reason. Than shall we haue sweete musick. But come, I will not breake of. What vnacquainted thoughtes are these Phao, farre vnfit for thy thoughtes, vnmeet for thy birth, thy fortune, thy yeares, for Phao: vnhappy, canst thou not be content to beholde the sunne, but thou muste couet to build thy nest in the Sunne? Doth Sapho bewitch thee, whome all the Ladies in Sicily coulde not wooe: Yea, poore Phao, the greatnesse of thy mind is far aboue the bewtie of thy face, and the hardnesse of thy fortune beyonde the bitternesse of thy words. Die Phao, Phao die: for there is no hope if thou bee wise, nor safetie, if thou be fortunate. Ah Phao, the more thou seekest to suppresse those mounting affections, they soare the loftier, & the more thou wrastlest with them the stronger they waxe, not vnlike vnto a ball, which the harder it is throwne against the earth, the higher it boundeth into the ayre: or our Sycilyan stone, which groweth hardest by hammeringe. O diuine loue, and therefore diuine, because loue, whose deitie no conceite canne compase, and therfore no authoritie canne constraine, as miraculous in working as mightie, & no more to bee suppressed then comprehended. Howe now Phao, whether art thou caried, committing idolatrie with that God, whome thou hast cause to blaspheme. O Sapho, faire Sapho; peace miserable wretch, enioy thy care in couert, we are willow in thy hatte, and baies in thy hart. Leade a Lamb in thy hand, & a Fox in thy head, a doue on the back of thy hand, & a sparow in the palme. Gold boyleth best, whē it bubleth least, water runneth smoothest, where it is deepest. Let thy loue hang at thy hearts bottome, not at the tongues brimme. Things vntold, are vndone, there can be no greater comforte, then to know much, nor any lesse labour, then to saye nothing. But ah thy bewty Sapho, thy bewty. Beginnest thou to blabbe? I blabbe it Phao, as long as thou blabbest her bewty. Bees that die with honney, are buried with harmonie. Swannes that end their liues with songs, are couered when they are dead, with flowers: and they that till their latter gaspe commend bewty, shall be euer honoured with benefites. In these extreamities I will goe to none other Oracle▪ then Sybilla, whose olde yeares haue not beene idle in these young attemptes, & whose sound aduice may mitigate (though the heauēs cannot remoue) my miseries. O Sapho, sweete Sapho, Sapho. Sibilla?