Campaspe (Alexander, Campaspe, and Diogenes) · chunk 21 of 25
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 · 527 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
I must needs believe there are Gods: for I think thee an enemy to them. Why so? Because thou hast taught one of thy sons to rule his legs, and not to follow learning, the other to bend his body every way, and his mind no way. Thou dost nothing but snarl, and bark like a dog. It is the next way to drive away a thief. Now shall you hear the third, who signs like a Nightingale. I care not: for I have heard a Nightingale sing herself. Sing sirrah. lo Diogenes, I am sure thou canst not do so much. But there is never a Thrush but can. What hast thou taught Manes thy man? To be as unlike as may be thy sons. He hath taught me to fast, lie hard, and run away. how sayest thou Perim, wilt thou be with him? ay, so he will teach me first to run away. Thou needest not be taught, thy legs are so nimble. how sayest thou Milo wilt thou be with him? Nay, hold your peace, he shall not. Why? There is not room enough for him and me both to tumble in one tub. Well Diogenes, I perceive my sons brook not thy manners. I thought no less, when they knew my virtues. Farewell Diogenes, thou neededst not have scraped roots, if thou wouldest have followed Alexander. Nor thou have followed Alexander, if thou hadst scraped roots. I fear me Apelles, that thine eyes have blabbed that, which thy tongue durst not. What little regard hadst thou, whilst Alexander viewed the counterfeit of Campaspe, thou stoodst gazing on her countenance? If he espy or but suspect, thou must needs twice perish with his hate, and thine own love. Thy pale looks, when he blushed, thy sad countenance, when he smiled, thy sighs, when he questioned, may breed in him a jealousy, perchance a frenzy. O love, I never before knew what thou wert, and now haste thou made me that I know not what myself am? Only this I know, that I must endure intolerable passions, for unknown pleasures. Dispute not the cause wretch, but yield to it: for better it is to melt with desire, then wrestle with love. Cast thyself on thy careful bed, be content to live unknown, and die unfound. O Campaspe, I have painted thee in my heart, painted? nay, contrary to mine art, imprinted, and that in such deep Characters, that nothing can raze it out, unless it rub thy heart out. It shall go hard, but this peace shall bring us some pleasure. Down with arms, and up with legs, this is a world for the nonce. Sweet youths, if you knew what it were to save your sweet blood, you would not so foolishly go about to spend it. What delight can there be in gashing, to make foul scars in fair faces, & crooked maims in straight legs? as though men being borne goodly by nature, would of purpose become deformed by folly, and all forsooth for a new found term, called valiant, a word which breedeth more quarrels than the sense can commendation.
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 must needs beleeue there are Gods: for I think thee an enemie to them. Why so? Beecause thou hast taught one of thy sonnes to rule his legges, and not to follow learning, the other to bend his body euery way, and his minde no way. Thou doest nothing but snarle, and barke like a dogge. It is the next way to driue away a theefe. Now shall you heare the third, who signes like a Nightingall. I care not: for I haue heard a Nightingall sing her self. Sing sirha. Loe Diogenes, I am sure thou canst not doe so much. But there is neuer a Thrush but can. What hast thou taught Manes thy man? To be as vnlike as may be thy sonnes. He hath taught me to fast, lye hard, and runne away. Howe saiest thou Perim, wilte thou bee with him? I, so he will teach me first to runne away. Thou needest not be taught, thy legs are so nimble. Howe sayest thou Milo wilte thou bee with him▪ Nay, hold your peace, he shall not. Why? There is not roome enough for him and mee both to tumble in one tub. Well Diogenes, I perceiue my sonnes brook not thy manners. I thought no lesse, when they knewe my vertues. Farewell Diogenes, thou neededst not haue scraped rootes, if thou woldest haue followed Alexander. Nor thou haue followed Alexāder, if thou hadst scraped rootes. I feare me Apelles, that thine eies haue blabbed that, which thy tongue durste not. What little regarde hadst thou, whilest Alexander viewed the counterfeite of Campaspe, thou stoodest gazing on her countenaunce? If hee espy or but suspect, thou must needes twise perishe with his hate, and thine owne loue. Thy pale lookes, when he blushed, thy sadde countenaunce, when hee smyled, thy sighes, when he questioned, may breede in him a ielosie, perchaunce a frenzey. O loue, I neuer beefore knewe what thou wert, and nowe haste thou made mee that I know not what my self am? Onely this I knowe, that I must endure intollerable passions, for vnknowne pleasures. Dispute not the cause wretch, but yeelde to it: for better it is to melt with desire, then wrastle with loue. Cast thy selfe on thy carefull bedde, be content to lyue vnknown, and die vnfounde. O Campaspe, I haue painted thee in my hearte, paynted? nay, contrarye to mine arte, imprinted, and that in suche deepe Characters, that nothing can rase it out, vnlesse it rubbe thy hearte out. It shal go hard, but this peace shal bring vs some pleasure. Downe with armes, and vp with legges, this is a world for the nonce. Sweete youthes, if you knew what it were to saue your sweete bloud, you would not so foolishly go about to spend it. What delight can there be in gasshinge, to make foule scarres in faire faces, & crooked malmes in streight legges? as though men being borne goodlye by nature, would of purpose become deformed by follye, and all forsooth for a new found tearme, called valiant, a worde which breedeth more quarrelles then the sense can commendation.