Lyly, John · published 1591 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 2(?)] (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (first) · before the Court T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.83 · 559 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
There cometh no soft syllable within my lips, custom hath made my words bloody, and my heart barbarous: that pelting word love, how waterish it is in my mouth, it carrieth no sound, hate, horror, death, are speeches that nourish my spirits. I like honey but I care not for the bees, I delight in music but I love not to play on the bagpipes, I can vouchsafe to hear the voice of women, but to touch their bodies I disdain it, as a thing childish, and fit for such men as can digest nothing but milk. A hard heart, shall we die for your love, and find no remedy. I have already taken a surfeit. Good master pity them. Pity them Epi? no I do not think that this breast shallbe pestered with such a foolish passion. What is that the gentlewoman carrieth in a chain? Why it is a Squirrel. A squirrel? O Gods what things are made for money. Is not this gentleman overwise? I could stay all day with him, if I feared not to be shent. Is it not possible to meet again. Yes at any time. Then let us hasten home. Sir Tophas, the God of war deal better with you, than you do with the God of love. Our love we may dissemble, digest we cannot, but I doubt not but time will hamper you, and help us. I defy time, who hath no interest in my heart: come Epi. let me to the battle with that hideous beast, love is pap and hath no relish in my taste, because it is not terrible. Indeed a black sheep is a perilous beast, but let us in till another time. I shall long for that time. No rest Endymion? still uncertain how to settle thy steps by day, or thy thoughts by night? thy truth is measured by thy fortune, and thou art judged unfaithful because thou art unhappy. I will see if I can beguile myself with sleep, & if no slumber will take hold in my eyes, yet will I embrace the golden thoughts in my head, and wish to melt by musing: that as ebon, which no fire can scorch, is yet consumed with sweet savours, so my heart which cannot be bent by the hardness of fortune, may be bruised by amorous desires, On yonder bank never grew any thing but Lunary, and hereafter I will never have any bed but that bank. O Endymion, Tellus was fair, but what availeth Beauty without wisdom? Nay Endymion she was wise, but what availeth wisdom without honour? she was honourable Endymion, bely her not, I but how obscure is honour without fortune? Was she not fortunate whom so many followed? Yes, yes, but base is fortune without Majesty: thy Majesty Cynthia all the world knoweth and wondereth at, but not one in the world that can imitate it or comprehend it. No more Endymion, sleep or die; Nay die for to sleep it is impossible, and yet I know not how it cometh to pass, I feel such a heaviness both in mine eyes and heart, that I am suddenly benumbed, yea in every joint: it may be weariness, for when did I rest? it may be deep melancholy, for when did I not sigh? Cynthia, I so, I say Cynthia.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
There cōmeth no soft syllable within my lips, custome hath made my wordes bloudy, and my hart barbarous: that pelting word loue, how watrish it is in my mouth, it carrieth no sound, hate, horror, death, are speaches that nourish my spirits. I like hony but I care not for the bees, I delight in musicke but I loue not to play on the bagpipes, I can vouchsafe to heare the voice of women, but to touch their bodies I disdaine it, as a thing childish, and fit for such men as can digest nothing but milke. A hard heart, shall wee dye for your loue, and finde no remedy. I haue already taken a surfet. Good master pittie them. Pittie them Epi? no I do not thinke that this breast shalbe pestred with such a foolish passion. What is that the gentlewoman carrieth in a chaine? Why it is a Squirrill. A Squirril? O Gods what things are made for money. Is not this gentleman ouerwise? I could stay all day with him, if I feared not to be shent. Is it not possible to meete againe. Yes at any time. Then let vs hasten home. Sir Tophas, the God of warre deale better with you, than you doo with the God of loue. Our loue we may dissemble, disgest we cannot, but I doubt not but time will hamper you, and helpe vs. I defie time, who hath no interest in my heart: come Epi. let me to the battaile with that hideous beast, loue is pappe and hath no relish in my taste, because it is not terrible. Indeede a blacke sheepe is a perrilous beast, but let vs in till another time. I shall long for that time. No rest Endimion? still vncertaine how to settle thy steps by day, or thy thoughts by night? thy trueth is measured by thy fortune, and thou art iudged vnfaithfull because thou art vnhappy. I will see if I can beguile my selfe with sleep, & if no slumber will take hold in my eyes, yet will I imbrace the golden thoughts in my head, and wish to melt by musing: that as Ebone, which no fire can scorch, is yet cōsumed with sweet sauours, so my heart which cannot bee bent by the hardnes of fortune, may be brused by amorous desires, On yonder banke neuer grewe any thing but Lunary, and hereafter I will neuer haue any bed but that banke. O Endimion, Tellus was faire, but what auaileth Beautie without wisedome? Nay Endimion she was wise, but what auaileth wisdome without honour? Shee was honourable Endimion, belie her not, I but howe obscure is honor without fortune? Was she not fortunate whome so many followed? Yes, yes, but base is fortune without Maiestie: thy Maiestie Cynthia al the world knoweth and wondereth at, but not one in the world that can immitate it or comprehend it. No more Endimion, sleepe or dye; Nay die for to sleepe it is impossible, and yet I knowe not how it commeth to passe, I feele such a heauines both in mine eyes and hart, yt I am sodainly benummed, yea in euery iont: it may be wearinesse, for when did I rest? it may bee deepe melancholy, for when did I not sigh? Cynthia, I so, I say Cynthia.