Marlowe, Christopher / Nashe, Thomas · published 1594 · first performed or written 1586 [c.1585-1586; possibly 1591] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) 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.
Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings Were up in arms, for making thee my love? How Carthage did rebel, Iarbus storm, And all the world calls me a second Helen, For being entangled by a stranger's looks: So thou wouldst prove as true as Paris did, Would, as fair Troy was, Carthage might be sacked, And I be called a second Helena. Had I a son by thee, the grief were less, That I might see Aeneas in his face: Now if thou goest, what canst thou leave behind, But rather will augment then case my woe? In vain my love thou spendst thy fainting breath, If words might move me I were overcome. And wilt thou not be moved with Dido's words? Thy mother was no Goddess perjured man, Nor Dardanus the author of thy flock: But thou art sprung from Scythian Caucasus, And Tigers of Hyrcania gave thee suck: Ah foolish Dido to forbear this long! Wast thou not wracked upon this Libyan shore, And cam'st to Dido like a Fisher swain? Repaired not I thy ships, made thee a King, And all thy needy followers Noblemen? O Serpent that came creeping from the shore, And I for pity harboured in my bosom, Wilt thou now flay me with thy venomed sting, And hiss at Dido for preserving thee? Go go and spare not, seek out Italy, I hope that that which love forbids me do, The Rocks and sea-gulfs will perform at large, And thou shalt perish in the billows ways, To whom poor Dido doth bequeath revenge, I traitor, and the waves shall cast thee up, Where thou and false Achates first set foot: Which if it chance, I'll give ye burial, And weep upon your lifeless carcases, Though thou nor he will pity me a whit. Why starest thou in my face? if thou wilt stay, Leap in mine arms, mine arms are open wide: If not, turn from me, and I'll turn from thee: For though thou hast the heart to say farewell, I have not power to stay thee: is he gone? I but he'll come again, he cannot go, He loves me to too well to serve me so: Yet he that in my sight would not relent, Will, being absent, be obdurate still. By this is he got to the water side, And, see the Sailors take him by the hand, But he shrinks back, and now remembering me, Returns amain: welcome, welcome my love: But where's Aeneas? ah he's gone he's gone! What means my sister thus to rave and cry? O Anna, my Aeneas is aboard, And leaving me will sail to Italy. Once didst thou go, and he came back again, Now bring him back, and thou shalt be a Queen, And I will live a private life with him. Wicked Aeneas.
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)
Desine meque tuis incendere teque querelis, Italiam non sponte sequor. Hast thou forgot how many neighbour kings Were vp in armes, for making thee my loue? How Carthage did rebell, Iarbus storme, And all the world calles me a second Helen, For being intangled by a strangers lookes: So thou wouldst proue as true as Paris did, Would, as faire Troy was, Carthage might be sackt, And I be calde a second Helena. Had I a sonne by thee, the griefe were lesse, That I might see Aeneas in his face: Now if thou goest, what canst thou leaue behind, But rather will augment then case my woe? In vaine my loue thou spendst thy fainting breath, If words might moue me I were ouercome. And wilt thou not be mou'd with Didos words? Thy mother was no Goddesse periurd man, Nor Dardanus the author of thy slocke: But thou art sprung from Scythian Caucasus, And Tygers of Hircania gaue thee sucke: Ah foolish Dido to forbeare this long! Wast thou not wrackt vpon this Libian shoare, And cam'st to Dido like a Fisher swaine? Repairde not I thy ships, made thee a King, And all thy needie followers Noblemen? O Serpent that came creeping from the shoare, And I for pitie harbord in my bosome, Wilt thou now flay me with thy venomed sting, And hisse at Dido for preseruing thee? Goe goe and spare not, seeke out Italy, I hope that that which loue forbids me doe, The Rockes and Sea-gulfes will performe at large, And thou shalt perish in the billowes waies, To whom poore Dido doth bequeath reuenge, I traytor, and the waues shall cast thee vp, Where thou and false Achates first set foote: Which if it chaunce, Ile giue ye buriall, And weepe vpon your liueles carcases, Though thou nor he will pitie me a whit. Why star'st thou in my face? if thou wilt stay, Leape in mine armes, mine armes are open wide: If not, turne from me, and Ile turne from thee: For though thou hast the heart to say farewell, I haue not power to stay thee: is he gone? I but heele come againe, he cannot goe, He loues me to too well to serue me so: Yet he that in my sight would not relent, Will, being absent, be abdurate still. By this is he got to the water side, And, see the Sailers take him by the hand, But he shrinkes backe, and now remembring me, Returnes amaine: welcome, welcome my loue: But wheres Aeneas? ah hees gone hees gone! What meanes my sister thus to raue and crye? O Anna, my Aeneas is abourd, And leauing me will saile to Italy. Once didst thou goe, and he came backe againe, Now bring him backe, and thou shalt be a Queene, And I will liue a priuate life with him. Wicked Aeneas.