Anonymous · published 1592 · first performed or written 1592 [c.1589-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
The sound is honey, but the sense is gall: The sweeting bless me with a cheerful look. How can mine eyes dart forth a pleasant look, When they are stopped with floods of flowing tears. If tongue with grief, and eyes with tears be filled, Say Virgin, how doth thy heart admit, The pure affection of great Soliman? My thoughts are like pillars of Adamant, Too hard to take an new impression. Nay then I see my stooping makes her proud, She is my vassal, and I will command, Coy Virgin knowest thou what offence it is, To thwart the will and pleasure of a king? Why thy life is done, if I but say the word. Why that's the period that my heart desires. And die thou shalt, unless thou change thy mind. Nay then Perseda grows resolute, Soliman's thoughts and mine resemble, Lives paralyse that never can be joined. Then kneel thou down, And army hands receive the stroke of death, doomed to thyself by thine own wilfulness. Strike, strike, thy words pierce deeper than thy blows. Brusor hide her, for her looks withhold me, O Brusor thou hast not hid her lips, For there sits Venus with Cupid on her knee, And all the Graces smiling round about her, So craving pardon that I cannot strike. Her face is covered over quite my Lord. Why, so. O Brusor, seest thou not her milk white neck, That Alabaster tower, 'twill break the edge of my keen scimitar, And pieces flying back will wound myself. Now she is all covered my Lord. Why now at last she dies. O Christ receive my soul. Hark Brusor she calls on Christ, I will not send her to him, Her words are music, The self same music that in ancient days, Brought Alexander from war to banqueting, And made him fall from skirmishing to kissing. No my dear Love would not let me kill thee, Though Majesty would turn desire to wrath, There lies my sword, humbled at thy feet, And I myself that govern many kings, Entreat a pardon for my rash misdeed. Now Soliman wrongs his imperial state, But if thou love me, and have hope to win, Grant me one boon that I shall crave of thee, whate'er it be, Perseda I grant it thee, Then let me live a Christian Virgin still, Unless my state shall alter by my will, My word is past, and I recall my passions, What should he do with crown and Empery, That cannot govern private fond affections, Yet give me leave in honest sort to court thee, To ease, though not to cure, my malady: Come sit thee down upon my right hand here, This seat I keep void for another friend: Go janissaries call in your Governor, So shall I joy between two captive friends, And yet myself be captive to them both, If friendship's yoke were not at liberty: See where he comes my other best beloved. My sweet and best beloved. My sweet and best beloved: For thee my dear Erastus have I lived.
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)
The sound is hunnie, but the sence is gall: The sweeting blesse me with a cheerefull looke. How can mine eyes dart foorth a pleasant looke, When they are stopt with flouds of flowing teares. If tongue with griefe, and eyes with teares be fild, Say Virgin, how dooth thy heart admit, The pure affection of great Soliman? My thoughts are like pillers of Adamant, Too hard to take an new impression. Nay then I see my stooping makes her proud, She is my vassaile, and I will commaund, Coye Virgin knowest thou what offence it is, To thwart the will and pleasure of a king? Why thy life is doone, if I but say the word. Why thats the period that my heart desires. And die thou shalt, vnlesse thou change thy minde. Nay then Perseda growes resolute, Solimans thoughts and mine resemble, Liues paralise that neuer can be ioyned. Then kneele thou downe, And army hands receiue the stroake of death, Domde to thy selfe by thine owne wilfulnes. Strike, strike, thy words pierce deeper then thy blows. Brusor hide her, for her lookes withhould me, O Brusor thou hast not hid her lippes, For there sits Venus with Cupid on her knee, And all the Graces smiling round about her, So crauing pardon that I cannot strike. Her face is couerd ouer quite my Lord. Why, so. O Brusor, seest thou not her milke white neck, That Alablaster tower, Twill breake the edge of my keene Semitor, And peeces flying back will wound my selfe. Now she is all couered my Lord. Why now at last she dyes. O Christ receiue my soule. Harke Brusor she cals on Christ, I will not send her to him, Her wordes are musick, The selfe same musick that in auncient dayes, Brought Alexander from warre to banquetting, And made him fall from skirmishing to kissing. No my deare Loue would not let me kill thee, Though Maiestie would turne desire to wrath, There lyes my sword, humbled at thy feete, And I my selfe that gouerne many kings, Intreate a pardon for my rash misdeede. Now Soliman wrongs his imperiall state, But if thou loue me, and haue hope to win, Graunt me one boone that I shall craue of thee, What ere it be, Perseda I graunt it thee, Then let me liue a Christian Virgin still, Vnlesse my state shall alter by my will, My word is past, and I recall my passions, What should he do with crowne and Emperie, That cannot gouerne priuate fond affections, Yet giue me leaue in honest sort to court thee, To ease, though not to cure, my maladie: Come sit thee downe vpon my right hand here, This seate I keepevoide for another friend: Go Ianisaries call in your Gouernour, So shall I ioy betweene two captiue friends, And yet my selfe becaptiue to them both, If friendships yoake were not at libertie: See where he comes my other best beloued. My sweete and best beloued. My sweete and best beloued: For thee my deare Erastus haue I liued.