Fedele and Fortunia (Two Italian Gentlemen) · chunk 5 of 30
Pasqualigo, Luigi / Munday, Anthony · published 1585 · first performed or written 1584 [1579-1584] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Ah poor Victoria, here it was thy guise, To stand and see Fortunio passing by: Whose lovely shape hath caught me by mine eyes, And means to make me prisoner while I die. To gaze on him was life to me before: His absence death, because I see no more. Oh greedy love that never feeleth glut, How have I boasted of Victoria's grace? With fear at last from favour to be shut, And lose the light of such a shining face? Shall neither tears, nor toil, nor broken sleep: Have force enough a lady's love to keep? And hath Fortunio now forgot the way. Which by my window learned of late to walk: See the disturber of my peace this day, Fedele comes to proffer me some talk. Sith he is here, his patience I will prove: Whom for Fortunio's sake I cannot love. I serve a Mistress whiter than the snow, Straighter than Cedar, brighter than the Glass: Finer in trip and swifter than the Roe, More pleasant than the Field of flowering Grass. More gladsome to my withering joys that fade: Than Winter's Sun, or summers cooling shade, Sweeter than swelling grape of ripest wine, Softer than feathers of the fairest Swan: smother than jet, more stately than the Pine, Fresher than Poplar, smaller than my span. Clearer than Beauty's fiery pointed beam: Or icy crust of Crystals frozen stream. Yet is she curster than the Bear by kind, And harder hearted than the aged Oak: More glib than Oil, more fickle than the wind, Stiffer than Steel, no sooner bent but broke. lo thus my service is a lasting sore: Yet will I serve although I die therefore. Now must I either food him off with feigned courtesy: Or else be coy in talk, to rid me of his company. Sir Fedele well met, and so farewell, I must away: My business is such as will not suffer me to stay. Mistress Victoria: let us have one word before ye go, Oh love, oh death, between you both, vouchsafe to rid my woe. A wonder sure it is to see, how gentlemen complain: What cark, what care, what hell on earth, for women they sustain. Your peace is war, your sleep is watching, and your ease is toil: Your life is death, your mirth is moan, and your success a foil. These words are used for ornaments to beautify your style: And these I think you follow, poor Victoria to beguile. If for your sake alone, more than for any other dame: I were not thus tormented, then, I grant I were too blame. But sith your golden graces are the cause of all my grief: Give ear and credit to my plaint, and yield me some relief. If this be true, why did you part? and stay so long in Spain: Delay breeds loss, either I thought you would not come again. Or else that change of company would alter your delight, And absence put me out of mind, that shut me out of sight. Did not I say, that your departure would my death procure?
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)
Ah poor Victoria, héer it was thy guise, To stand and sée Fortunio passing by: Whose loouely shape hath caught me by mine eyes, And meanes to make me prisoner while I dye. To gaze on him was life to mée before: His absence death, because I sée no more. ¶Oh gréedy looue that neuer féeleth glut, How haue I boasted of Victoriaes grace? With feare at last from fauour to be shut, And lose the light of such a shining face? Shall neither teares, nor toyle, nor broken sléep: Haue force inough a Ladies looue to kéep? ¶And hath Fortunio now forgot the way. Which by my windowe learnd of late to walke: Sée the disturber of my peace this day, Fedele comes to proffer mée some talke. Sith hée is héer, his patience I will prooue: Whome for Fortunios sake I cannot looue. ¶I serue a Mistres whiter then the snowe, Straighter then Cedar, brighter then the Glasse: Finer in trip and swifter then the Roe, More pleasant then the Féeld of flowring Grasse. More gladsome to my withering Ioyes that fade: Then Winters Sun, or Sommers cooling shade, Swéeter then swelling grape of ripest wine, Softer then feathers of the fairest Swan: Smoother then Iet, more stately then the Pine, Fresher then Poplar, smaller then my span. Clearer then Beauties fiery pointed beam: Or Ysie cruste of Christalles frosen stream. Yet is shée curster then the Beare by kinde, And harder harted then the aged Oke: More glib then Oyle, more fickle then the winde, Stiffer then Stéele, no sooner bent but broke. Loe thus my seruice is a lasting sore: Yet will I serue although I dye therfore. ¶Now must I either fode him off with fained curtesie: Or els be coy in talke, to rid mée of his company. Sir Fedele well met, and so farwell, I must away: My busines is such as will not suffer me to staye. ¶Mistres Victoria: let us haue one woord before yée goe, Oh looue, oh death, betwéen you bothe, vouchsafe to rid my woe. ¶A wunder sure it is to sée, how gentlemen complain: What cark, what care, what hell on earth, for women they sustain. Your peace is war, your sléep is watching, and your ease is toyle: Your life is death, your mirth is mone, and your successe a foyle. These woordes are vsde for ornaments to beautifie your stile: And these I think you followe, poore Victoria to beguile. ¶If for your sake alone, more then for any other dame: I were not thus tormented, then, I graunt I were too blame. But sith your golden graces are the cause of all my gréfe: Giue eare and credit to my plaint, and yéeld me some reléefe. ¶If this be true, why did you part? and stay so long in Spain: Delay bréeds losse, either I thought you would not come again. Or els that change of company would alter your delight, And absence put me out of minde, that shut me out of sight. Did not I say, that your departure would my death procure?