Anonymous / Kyd, Thomas / Shakespeare, William / Watson, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1591 [1588-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
A word or two sweet heart, and then I will, 'tis yet but early days, thou needest not fear. Where is your husband? 'tis now high water, and he is at the key. There let him be, hence forward know me not. Is this the end of all thy solemn oaths? Is this the fruit thy reconcilement buds? Have I for this given thee so many favours. incurred my husband's hate, and out alas, Made shipwreck of mine honour for thy sake, And dost thou say hence forward know me not? Remember when I locked thee in my closet, What were thy words and mine, did we not both Decree, to murder Arden in the night. The heavens can witness, and the world can tell, Before I saw that falsehood look of thine, 'fore I was tangled with thy 'ticing speech. Arden to me was dearer than my soul, And shall be still, base peasant get thee gone. And boast not of thy conquest over me, Gotten by witchcraft, and mere sorcery. For what hast thou to countenance my love, being descended of a noble house, And matched already with a gentleman, Whose servant thou mayst be, and so farewell. Ungentle and unkind Alice, now I see That which I ever feared, and find too true: A woman's love is as the lightning flame, Which even in bursting forth consumes itself, To try thy constancy have I been strange, Would I had never tried, but lived in hope. What needs thou try me, whom thou never found false Yet pardon me for love is jealous, So list the sailor to the mermaid's song, So looks the traveller to the Basilisk, I am content for to be reconciled, And that I know will be mine overthrow. Thine overthrow? first let the world dissolve, Nay Mosbie let me still enjoy thy love, And happen what will, I am resolute, My saving husband hoards up bags of gold, To make our children rich, and now is he Gone to unload the goods that shall be thine, And he and Franklin will to London straight. To London Alice, if thou'lt be ruled by me, we'll make him sure enough for coming there. Ah, would we could. I happened on a Painter yesternight, The only cunning man of Christendom: For he can temper poison with his oil, That who so looks upon the work he draws, Shall with the beams that issue from his sight, Suck venom to his breast and slay himself, Sweet Alice he shall draw thy counterfeit, That Arden may by gazing on it perish ay but Mosbie that is dangerous, For thou or I, or any other else, Coming into the Chamber where it hangs, may die. ay but we'll have it covered with a cloth, And hung up in the study for himself. It may not be, for when the picture's drawn, Arden I know will come and show it me. Fear not we'll have that shall serve the turn, This is the painter's house I'll call him forth,
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A word or two sweete hart, and then I will, Tis yet but early daies, thou needest not feare. Where is your husband? Tis now high water, and he is at the key. There let him be, hence forward know me not. Is this the end of all thy solemne oathes? Is this the frute thy reconcilement buds? Have I for this giuen thée so many fauours. Incurd my husbands hate, and out alas, Made shipwrack of myne honour for thy sake, And doest thou say hence forward know me not? Remember when I lockt the in my closet, What were thy words and mine, did we not both Decree, to murder Arden in the night. The heauens can witnes, and the world can tell, Before I saw that falshoode looke of thine, Fore I was tangled with thy tysing speach. Arden to me was dearer then my soule, And shall be still, base pesant get thée gone. And boast not of thy conquest ouer me, Gotten by witch-craft, and méere sorcery. For what hast thou to countenaunce my loue, béeing discended of a noble house, And matcht already with a gentleman, Whose seruant thou maist be, and so farewell. Ungentle and vnkinde Ales, now I sée That which I ever feard, and finde too trew: A womans loue is as the lightning flame, Which euen in bursting forth consumes it selfe, To trye thy constancie haue I béene strange, Would I had neuer tryed, but liued in hope. What needs thou try me, whom thou neuer found false Yet pardon me for loue is Ielious, So list the Sailer to the Marmaids song, So lookes the trauellour to the Baūliske, I am content for to be reconcilde, And that I know will be mine overthrow. Thine ouerthrow? first let the world dissolue, Nay Mosbie let me still inioye thy loue, And happen what will, I am resolute, My sauing husband hoordes vp bagges of gould, To make our children rich, and now is hee Gone to vnload the goods that shall be thine, And he and Francklin will to London straight. To London Ales, if thoult be rulde by mée, Weele make him sure enough for comming there. Ah, would we could. I happend on a Painter yesternight, The onely cunning man of Christendoome: For he can temper poyson with his oyle, That who so lookes vpon the worke he drawes, Shall with the beames that issue from his sight, Suck venomme to his breast and slay him selfe, Sweete Ales he shall draw thy counterfet, That Arden may by gaizing on it perish I but Mosbie that is dangerous, For thou or I, or any other els, Comming into the Chamber where it hangs, may die. I but weele haue it couered with a cloath, And hung vp in the studie for himselfe. It may not be, for when the pictur's drawne, Arden I know will come and shew it me. Feare not weele haue that shall serue the turne, This is the painters house Ile call him foorth,