Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 474 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Nay I'll go along. And if you hinder me you do me wrong. Tut I have lost myself I am not here, This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Tell me in sadness whom she is you love? What shall I groan and tell thee? Why no, but sadly tell me who. Bid a sick-man in sadness make his will. Ah word ill urged to one that is so ill. In sadness cozen I do love a woman. I aimed so right, when as you said you loved. A right good markman, and she's fair I love. A right fair mark fair Cousin is soon hit. But in that hit you miss, she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Diana's wit, And in strong proof of chastity well armed: 'Gainst Cupid's childish bow she lives unharmed, she'll not abide the siege of loving terms, Nor open her lap to Saint seducing gold, Ah she is rich in beauty, only poor, That when she dies with beauty dies her store. Of honourable reckoning are they both, And pity 'tis they live at odds so long: But leaving that, what say you to my suit? What should I say more than I said before, My daughter is a stranger in the world, She hath not yet attained to fourteen years: Let two more summers whither in their pride, Before she can be thought fit for a Bride. Younger than she are happy mothers made. But too soon marred are these so early married: But woo her gentle Paris, get her heart, My word to her consent is but a part. This night I hold an old accustomed Feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love: yet you among the store, One more most welcome makes the number more. At my poor house you shall behold this night, Earth treadding stars, that make dark heaven light: Such comfort as do lusty young men feel, When well apparaild April on the heel Of lumping winter treads, even such delights Amongst fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house, hear all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shallbe. Such amongst view of many mine being one, May stand in number though in reckoning none. Where are you sirrah, go trudge about Through fair Verona streets, and seek them out: Whose names are written here and to them say, My house and welcome at their pleasure stay. Seek them out whose names are written here▪ and yet I know not who are written here: I must to the learned to learn of them, that's as much to say, as the Tailor must meddle with his last, the Shoemaker with his needle, the Painter with his nets, and the Fisher with his Pencil, I much to the learned.
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)
Nay Ile goe along. And if you hinder me you doo me wrong. Tut I haue lost my selfe I am not here, This is not Romeo, hee's some other where. Tell me in sadnes whome she is you loue? What shall I grone and tell thee? Why no, but sadly tell me who. Bid a sickman in sadnes make his will. Ah word ill vrgde to one that is so ill. In sadnes Cosen I doo oue a woman. I aimde so right, when as you said you lou'd. A right good markman, and shee's faire I loue. A right aire marke faire Cose is soonest hit. But in that hit you misse, shee'le not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dianes wit, And in strong proofe of chastitie well arm'd: Gainst Cupids childish bow she liues vnharm'd, Shee'le not abide the siedge of louing tearmes, Nor ope her lap to Saint seducing gold, Ah she is rich in beautie, only poore, That when she dies with beautie dies her store. Of honorable reckoning are they both, And pittie tis they liue at ods so long: But leauing that, what say you to my sute? What should I say more than I said before, My daughter is a stranger in the world, Shee hath not yet attainde to fourteene yeares: Let two more sommers wither in their pride, Before she can be thought fit for a Bride. Younger than she are happie mothers made. But too soone marde are these so early maried: But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, My word to her consent is but a part. This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a guest, Such as I loue: yet you among the store, One more most welcome makes the number more. At my poore house you shall behold this night, Earth treadding stars, that make darke heauen light: Such comfort as doo lusty youngmen eele, When well apparaild Aprill on the heele Of lumping winter treads, euen such delights Amongst fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house, heare all, all see, And like her most, whose merite most shalbe. Such amongst view of many myne beeing one, May stand in number though in reckoning none. Where are you sirra, goe trudge about Through faire Verna streets, and seeke them out: Whose names are written here and to them say, My house and welcome at their pleasure stay. Seeke them out whose names are written here▪ and yet I knowe not who are written here: I must to the learned to learne of them, that's as much to say, as the Taylor must meddle with his Laste, the Shoomaker with his needle, the Painter with his nets, and the Fisher with his Pensill, I much to the learned.