Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.77 · 435 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
We follow thee, Iuliet, the County stays. Go Girl, seek happy nights to happy days. What shall this speeh be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without Apology? The date is out of such prolixity, we'll have no Cupid, hood winked with a scarf, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, Scaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. But let them measure us by what they will, we'll measure them a Measure, and be gone. Give me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy I will bear the light. Nay gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Not I believe me, you have dancing shoes With nimble soles, I have a sole of Lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. You are a Lover, borrow Cupid's wings, And soar with them above a common bound. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, To soar with his light feathers, and to bond: I cannot bond a pitch above dull woe, Under love's heavy burden do I sink. And to sink in it should you burden love, Too great oppression for a tender thing. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. If love be rough with you, be rough with love, Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down, Give me a Case to put my visage in, A Visor for a Visor, what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities: Here are the Beetle-brows shall blush for me. Come knock and enter, and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his legs. A Torch for me, let wantoness light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels: For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsire Phrase, I'll be a Candleholder and look on, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. Tut, dun the Mouse, the Constables own word, If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire. Or save your reverence love, wherein thou stickest up to the ears, come we burn daylight ho. Nay that's not so. I mean sir I delay, We wast our lights in vain, lights, lights, by day; Take our good meaning, for our judgement sits Five times in that, ere once in our fine wits. And we mean well in going to this Mask, But 'tis no wit to go. Why may one ask? I dreamt a dream to night. And so did I. Well what was yours? That dreamers often lie. In bed a sleep while they do dream things true.
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)
We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie ſtaies. Goe Gyrle, ſeeke happe nights to happy daies. What ſhall this ſpeeh be ſpoke for our excuſe? Or ſhall we on without Apologie? The date is out of ſuch prolixitie, Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarfe, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. But let them meaſure vs by what they will, Weele meaſure them a Meaſure, and be gone. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heauy I will beare the light. Nay gentle Romeo, we muſt haue you dance. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing ſhooes With nimble ſoles, I haue a ſoale of Lead So ſtakes me to the ground, I cannot moue. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings, And ſoare with them aboue a common bound. I am too ſore enpearced with his ſhaft, To ſoare with his light feathers, and to bound: I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I ſinke. And to ſinke in it ſhould you burthen loue, Too great oppreſſion for a tender thing. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boyſterous, and it pricks like thorne. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue me a Caſe to put my viſage in, A Viſor for a Viſor, what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities: Here are the Beetle-browes ſhall bluſh for me. Come knocke and enter, and no ſooner in, But euery man betake him to his legs. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the ſenceleſſe ruſhes with their heeles: For I am prouerb'd with a Grandſier Phraſe, Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on, The game was nere ſo faire, and I am done. Tut, duns the Mouſe, the Conſtables owne word, If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire. Or ſaue your reuerence loue, wherein thou ſtickeſt Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho. Nay that's not ſo. I meane ſir I delay, We waſt our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement ſits Fiue times in that, ere once in our fine wits. And we meane well in going to this Maske, But 'tis no wit to go. Why may one aske? I dreampt a dreame to night. And ſo did I. Well what was yours? That dreamers often lye. In bed a ſleepe while they do dreame things true.