Shakespeare, William · published 1598 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
I understand thy looks, that pretty Welsh, Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens, I am too perfect in, and but for shame In such a parley should I answer thee. I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation, But I will never be a truant love, Till I have learned thy language, for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned, Sung by a fair Queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division to her Lute. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. O I am ignorance itself in this. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down, And rest your gentle head upon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, And on your eyelids crown the God of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference twixt wake and sleep, As is the difference betwixt day and night, The hour before the heavenly harnessed team Gins his golden progress in the east. With all my heart i'll sit and hear her sing, By that time will our book I think be drawn. Do so, & those musicians that shall play to you, Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And strait they shallbe here, sit and attend. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying down, Come quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. Go ye giddy goose. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh, And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous, b'yr lady he is a good musician. Then should you be nothing but musical, For you are altogether governed by humours, Lie still ye thief, and hear the Lady sing in Welsh. I had rather hear lady my brach howl in Irish. Wouldst thou have thy head broken? No. Then be still. Neither, 'tis a woman's fault. Now God help thee. To the Welsh Ladies bed. What's that? Peace, she sings. Come Kate, i'll have your song too. Not mine in good sooth. Not yours in good sooth. heart, you swear like a comfit-makers wife, not you in good sooth, and as true as I live, and as God shall mend me, and as sure as day: And givest such sarsenet surety for thy oaths, As if thou never walkest further than Finsbury. Swear me Kate like a lady as thou art, A good mouthfilling oath, and leave in sooth, And such protest of pepper ginger bread To velvet guards, and Sunday Citizens. Come sing. I will not sing. 'tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher, and the indentures be drawn i'll away within these two hours, and so come in when ye will. Come come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow, As Hot. Lord Percy is on fire to go: By this our book is drawn, we'll but seal, And then to horse immediately.
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)
I vnderstand thy lookes, that prettie Welsh, Which thou powrest downe from these swelling heauens, I am too perfect in, and but for shame In such a parley should I answere thee. I vnderstand thy kisses, and thou mine, And thats a feeling disputation, But I will neuer be a truant loue, Till I haue learnt thy language, for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly pend, Sung by a faire Queene in a summers bowre, With rauishing diuision to her Lute. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. O I am ignorance it selfe in this. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you downe, And rest your gentle head vpon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, And on your eyelids crowne the God of sleepe, Charming your bloud with pleasing heauinesse, Making such difference twixt wake and sleepe, As is the difference betwixt day and night, The houre before the heauenly harnest teeme Begins his golden progresse in the east. With all my heartile sit and heare her sing, By that time will our booke I thinke be drawne. Do so, & those musitions that shal play to you, Hang in the aire a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shalbe here, sit and attend. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe, Come quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. Go ye giddy goose. Now I perceiue the diuell vnderstands Welsh, And tis no maruaile he is so humorous, Biady he is a good musition. Then should you be nothing but musicall, For you are altogither gouernd by humors, Lie still ye thiefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh. I had rather heare lady my brache howle in Irish. Wouldst thou haue thy head broken? No. Then be still. Neither, tis a womans fault. Nowe God helpe thee. To the Welsh Ladies bed. Whats that? Peace, she sings. Come Kate, ile haue your song too. Not mine in good sooth. Not yours in good sooth. Hart, you sweare like a comfit-makers wife, not you in good sooth, and as true as I liue, and as God shall mend me, and as sure as day: And giuest such sarcenet surety for thy oathes, As if thou neuer walkst further then Finsbury. Sweare me Kate like a ladie as thou art, A good mouthfilling oath, and leaue in sooth, And such protest of pepper ginger bread To veluet gards, and Sunday Citizens. Come sing. I will not sing. Tis the next way to turne taylor, or be redbrest teacher, and the indentures be drawn ile away within these two houres, and so come in when ye will. Come come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow, As Hot. Lord Percy is on fire to go: By this our booke is drawne, weele but seale, And then to horse immediatlie.