The Reign of King Edward the Third · chunk 8 of 39
Anonymous / Shakespeare, William · published 1596 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1590-1595] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.73 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
I have not to a period brought her praise. Her praise is as my love, both infinite, Which apprehend such violent extremes, That they disdain an ending period. Her beauty hath no match but my affection, Hers more than most, mine most, and more than more, Hers more to praise then tell the sea by drops, Nay more than drop the massy earth by sands, And said, by said, print them in memory, Then wherefore talkest thou of a period, To that which craves unended admiration. Read let us hear, More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades: That love hath two faults gross and palpable, Comparest thou her to the pale queen of night, Who being set in dark seems therefore light, What is she, when the sun lifts up his head, But like a fading taper dim and dead. My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon, And being unmasked outshine the golden sun, What is the other fault, my sovereign Lord, Read o'er the line again, More fair and chaste, I did not bid thee talk of chastity, To ransack so the treason of her mind, For I had rather have her chased then chaste, Out with the moon line, I will none of it, And let me have her likened to the sun, Say she hath thrice more splendour than the sun, That her perfections emulates the sun, That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun, That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun, That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun, That she doth dazzle gazers like the sun, And in this application to the sun, Bid her be free and general as the sun, Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows, As lovingly as on the fragrant rose, let's see what follows that same moonlight line, More fair and chaste than is the lover of shades, More bold in constancy. In constancy then who, Then Iudith was, O monstrous line, put in the next a sword And I shall woo her to cut of my head Blot, blot, good Lodwick let us hear the next. There's all that yet is done. I thank thee then thou hast done little ill, But what is done is passing passing ill, No let the Captain talk of boisterous war, The prisoner of emured dark constraint, The sick man best sets down the pangs of death, The man that starves the sweetness of a feast, The frozen soul the benefit of fire, And every grief his happy opposite, Love cannot sound well but in lovers tongues, Give me the pen and paper I will write, But soft here comes the treasurer of my spirit, Lodwick thou know'st not how to draw a battle, These wings, these flankers, and these squadrons, Argue in thee defective discipline, Thou shouldest have placed this here, this other here,
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)
I haue not to a period brought her praiſe. Her praiſe is as my loue, both infinit, Which apprehend ſuch violent extremes, That they diſdaine an ending period. Her bewtie hath no match but my affection, Hers more then moſt, myne moſt, and more then more, Hers more to praiſe then tell the ſea by drops, Nay more then drop the maſſie earth by ſands, And ſaid, by ſaid, print them in memorie, Then wherefore talkeſt thou of a period, To that which craues vnended admiration. Read let vs heare, More faire and chaſt then is the queen of ſhades: That loue hath two falts groſſe and palpable, Compareſt thou her to the pale queene of night, Who being ſet in dake ſeemes therefore light, What is ſhe, when the ſunne lifts vp his head, But like a fading taper dym and dead. My loue ſhall braue the ey of heauen at noon, And being vnmaskt outſhine the golden ſun, What is the other faulte, my ſoueraigne Lord, Readeore the line againe, More faire and chaſt, I did not bid thee talke of chaſtitie, To ranſack ſo the treaſon of her minde, For I had rather haue her chaſed then chaſt, Out with the moone line, I wil none of it, And let me haue hir likened to the ſun, Say ſhee hath thrice more ſplendour then the ſun, That her perfections emulats the ſunne, That ſhee breeds ſweets as plenteous as the ſunne, That ſhee doth thaw cold winter like the ſunne, That ſhe doth cheere freſh ſommer like the ſunne, That ſhee doth dazle gazers like the ſunne, And in this application to the ſunne, Bid her be free and generall as the ſunne, Who ſmiles vpon the baſeſt weed that growes, As louinglie as on the fragrantroſe, Lets ſee what followes that ſame moonelightline, More faire and chaſt then is the louer of ſhades, More bould in conſtancie. In conſtancie then who, Then Iudith was, O monſtrousline, put in the next a ſword And I ſhall woo her to cut of my head Blot, blot, good Lodwicke let vs heare the next. Theres all that yet is donne. I thancke thee then thou haſt don litle ill, But what is don is paſſing paſſing ill, No let the Captaine talke of boyſtrous warr, The priſoner of emured darke conſtraint, The ſick man beſt ſets downe the pangs of death, The man that ſtarues the ſweetnes of a feaſt, The frozen ſoule the benefite of fire, And euery griefe his happie oppoſite, Loue cannot ſound well but in louers toungs, Giue me the pen and paper I will write, But ſot here comes the treaſurer of my ſpirit, Lodwick thou knowſt not how to drawe a battell, Theſe wings, theſe flankars, and theſe ſquadrons, Argue in thee defectiue diſcipline, Thou ſhouldeſt haue placed this here, this other here,