Fedele and Fortunia (Two Italian Gentlemen) · chunk 12 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 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
In such a fear at rising of the spirits we all were cast, That being scared, we lost our way and Image too at last. I marvel where Medusa is? She took her to her heels, And time I trow, for all the world methought did run on wheels. Sith this enchanting takes no place, go seek Fortunio straight, And tell him that to speak with him his pleasure I do wait. A word or two will serve my turn, go seek him out of hand, Where shall I seek him? for I know not where his house doth stand. By the Piazza, there I am sure that thou shalt see him walk, Spending the time with one or other of his friends in talk. I go. I was so troubled in my mind, with fright of sudden fear, That yet I feel my sinews shake, and tremble everywhere. Alas look where Fedele comes, I cannot scape unseen, He is importunate, I know not how to rid me of him clean. Ah cursed dames, their love is like a flame, Quivering in th'air between too blasts of wind, Borne here and there, by either of the same. Yet properly to none of both inclined. Hate and disdain is painted in their eyes, Deceit and treason in their bosom lies. Their promises are made of brittle glass, Ground with a fillip to the finest dust, Their thoughts as streaming rivers swiftly pass. Their words are oil, and yet they gather rust. Their virtues mount like billows to the skies, And vanish straight out of the gazer's eyes. True are they never found but in untruth, Constant in nought, but in inconstancy, The common foes of weal, and floods of ruth. Devouring cankers of man's liberty. Here doth the stain of modesty abide: And shroudingly desires herself to hide. But get thee straight to Sir Fortunio. Will him to come and speak a word with me, Haste and post haste with speed see that thou go, That he this treachery may quickly see. meanwhile on her whose face begins to glow: The burden of my breast I mean to throw. Then take you this Image of wax that you see, Crackstone the Captain delivered it to me. Being his turn as he said for to watch this night, And breaking up sentinel when it began to be light. This Image he told me in the street he found, Lying hard by the chapel upon the ground. This is the same that was made to enchant Fortunio, Behold it and see whether I say truth or no. He plows the seas, and fishes in the land, And loseth all the labour of them both, He fondly rears his fortress on the sand. That builds his trust upon a woman's troth. But get thee hence about thy business, That I may talk with this my good mistress. A Dio.
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)
¶In such a feare at rising of the spirites wée all were cast, That being scarde, we lost our way and Image too at last. I maruell where Medusa is? ¶Shée tooke her to her héeles, And time I trowe, for all ye world me thought did rūne on whéeles. ¶Sith this enchanting takes no place, go séeke Fortunio streighte, And tell him that to speake with him his pleasure I do wayte. A worde or two will serue my turne, goe séeke him out of hand, ¶Where shall I séeke him? for I knowe not where his house doth stand. ¶By ye Piazza, there I am sure yt thou shalt sée him walke, Spending the time with one or other of his friends in talke. ¶I goe. ¶I was so troubled in my minde, with fright of sudden feare, That yet I féele my sinewes shake, and tremble euery where. Alas looke where Fedele comes, I cannot scape vnséene, He is importunate, I knowe not how to ridde me of him cléene. ¶Ah cursed dames, their loue is like a flame, Quiuering in th'Ayre betwéene too blastes of wynde, Borne here and there, by either of the same. Yet properly to none of both enclinde. Hate and disdaine is painted in their eyes, Deceit and treason in their besome lies. Their promises are made of brittle glasse, Grounde with a fillop to the finest dust, Their thoughtes as streaming riuers swiftly passe. Their wordes are oyle, and yet they gather rust. Their vertues mount like billowes to the skyes, And vanish straight out of the gazers eyes. True are they neuer founde but in vntrueth, Constant in naught, but in inconstancie, The common foes of weale, and fluddes of rueth. Deuouring cankers of mans libertie. Here doth the staine of modestie abide: And shrowdingly desires her selfe to hide. But get thée streight to Sir Fortunio. Will him to come and speake a word with me, Haste and poste haste with spéede sée that thou goe, That he this treacherie may quickely sée. Meane while on her whose face beginnes to glow: The burden of my brest I meane to throw. ¶Then take you this Image of waxe that you sée, Crackstone the Captaine deliuered it to mée. Being his turne as he said for to watch this night, And breaking vp sentinel when it began to be light. This Image he tould me in the stréete he founde, Lying harde by the chappell vpon the grounde. This is the same that was made to inchante Fortunio, Beholde it and sée whether I say trueth or no. ¶He plowghes the seas, and fishes in the lande, And loseth all the labour of them both, He fondly reares his fortresse on the sande. That buildes his trust vpon a womans troth. But get thée hence about thy businesse, That I may talke with this my good mistresse. ¶A Dio.