The Reign of King Edward the Third · chunk 10 of 39
Anonymous / Shakespeare, William · published 1596 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1590-1595] (Annals) history · Derby's (Strange's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
But that your lips were sacred my Lord, You would profane the holy name of love, That love you offer me you cannot give, For Caesar owes that tribute to his Queen, That love you beg of me I cannot give, For Sara owes that duty to her Lord, He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp, Shall die my Lord, and will your sacred self, commit high treason against the King of heaven, To stamp his Image in forbidden metal, For getting your allegiance, and your oath, In violating marriage sacred law, You break a greater honour than yourself, To be a King is of a younger house, Than to be married, your progenitor Sole reigning Adam on the universe, By God was honoured for a married man, But not by him anointed for a king, It is a penalty to break your statutes, Though not enacted with your highness hand, How much more to infringe the holy act, Made by the mouth of God, sealed with his hand, I know my sovereign in my husband's love, Who now doth loyal service in his wars, Doth but to try the wife of Salisbury, Whither she will hear a wantons tale or no, Lest being therein guilty by my stay, From that not from my liege I turn away: Whether is her beauty by her words divine, Or are her words sweet chaplains to her beauty, Like as the wind doth beautify a sail, And as a sail becomes the unseen wind, So do her words her beauties, beauty words, O that I were a honey gathering Bee, To bear the comb of virtue from his flower, And not a poison sucking envious spider, To turn the vice I take to deadly venom, Religion is austere and beauty gentle, To strike a gardion for so fair a weed, O that she were as is the air to me, Why so she is, for when I would embrace her, This do I, and catch nothing but myself, I must enjoy her, for I cannot beat With reason and reproof fond love away. Here comes her father I will work with him, To bear my colours in this field of love. How is it that my sovereign is so sad, May I with pardon know your highness grief, And that my old endeavour will remove it, It shall not cumber long your majesty, A kind and voluntary gift thou proferest. That I was forward to have begged of thee, But O thou world great nurse of flattery, Why dost thou tip men's tongues with golden words, And poise their deeds with weight of heavy lead, That fair performance cannot follow promise, O that a man might hold the hearts close book, And choke the lavish tongue when it doth utter The breath of falsehood not charactered there:
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)
But that your lippes were ſacred my Lord, You would prophane the holie name of loue, That loue you offer me you cannot giue, For Caeſar owes that tribut to his Queene, That loue you beg of me I cannot giue, For Sara owes that duetie to her Lord, He that doth clip or counterfeit your ſtamp, Shall die my Lord, and will your ſacred ſelfe, Comit high treaſon againſt the King of heauen, To ſtamp his Image in forbidden mettel, For getting your alleageance, and your othe, In violating mariage ſecred law, You breake a greater honor then your ſelfe, To be a King is of a yonger houſe, Then to be maried, your progenitour Sole ragning Adam on the vniuerſe, By God was honored for a married man, But not by him annointed for a king, It is a pennalty to breake your ſtatutes, Though not enacted with your highnes hand, How much more to infringe the holy act, Made by the mouth of God, ſeald with his hand, I know my ſouereigne in my husbands loue, Who now doth loyall ſeruice in his warrs, Doth but to try the wife of Salisbury, Whither ſhee will heare a wantons tale or no, Leſt being therein giulty by my ſtay, From that not from my leige I tourne awaie: Whether is her bewtie by her words dyuine, Or are her words ſweet chaplaines to her bewtie, Like as the wind doth beautifie a ſaile, And as a ſaile becomes the vnſeene winde, So doe her words her bewties, bewtie wordes, O that I were a honie gathering bee, To beare the combe of vertue from his flower, And not a poiſon ſucking enuious ſpider, To turne the vice I take to deadlie venom, Religion is auſtere and bewty gentle, To ſtricke a gardion for ſo faire a weed, O that ſhee were as is the aire to mee, Why ſo ſhe is, for when I would embrace her, This do I, and catch nothing but my ſelfe, I muſt enioy her, for I cannot beate With reaſon and reproofe fond loue awaie. Here comes her father I will worke with him, To beare my collours in this feild of loue. How is it that my ſouereigne is ſo ſad, May I with pardon know your highnes griefe, And that my old endeuor will remoue it, It ſhall not comber long your maieſtie, A kind and voluntary giift thou profereſt. That I was forwarde to haue begd of thee, But O thou world great nurſe of flatterie, Whie doſt thou tip mens tongues with golden words, And peiſe their deedes with weight of heauie leade, That faire performance cannot follow promiſe, O that a man might hold the hartes cloſe booke, And choke the lauiſh tongue when it doth vtter The breath of falſhood not carectred there: