Shakespeare, William · published 1598 · first performed or written c.1595 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hay. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport: away. Sweet hearts we shallbe rich ere we depart, If Fairings come thus plentifully in. A Lady walled about with Diamonds: Look you, what I have from the loving King. Madame, came nothing else along with that? Nothing but this: yes as much love in Rhyme, As would be crambd up in a sheet of paper Writ a both sides the leaf, margin and all, That he was feign to seal on Cupid's name. That was the way to make his godhead Wax: For he hath been five thousand year a Boy. I and a shroud unhappy gallows too. You'll near be friends with him, a killed your sister. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy, And so she died: had she been Light like you, of such a merry nimble stirring spirit, she might a been Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart lives long. What's your dark meaning mouse, of this light word? A light condition in a beauty dark. We need more light to find your meaning out. Yole mar the light by taking it in snuff: Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. Look what you do, you do it still i'th' dark. So do not you, for you are a light Wench. In deed I weigh not you, and therefore light. You weigh me not, O that's you care not for me. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rasaline, you have a Favour too? Who sent it? and what is it? I would you knew. And if my face were but as fair as yours, My Favour were as great, be witness this. Nay I have Vearses too, I thank Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbering too, I were the fairest Goddess on the ground. I am compared to twenty thousand fairs. O he hath drawn my picture in his letter. Any thing like? Much in the letters, nothing in the praise. Beauteous as Ink: a good conclusion. Fair as a text B in a Copy book. Aware pensalls, How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominical, my golden letter, O that your face were not so full of O's. A Pox of that jest, and I beshrew all shrews. But Katherine what was sent to you From fair Dumain? Madame, this Glove▪ Did he not send you twain? Yes Madam: and moreover, Some thousand Verses of a faithful Lover. A huge translation of hypocrisy, Vildly compiled, profound simplicity. This, and these Pearl, to me sent Longavile. The Letter is too long by half a mile.
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)
Ile make one in a daunce, or ſo: or I will play on the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hey. Moſt Dull, honeſt Dull, to our ſport: away. Sweete hartes we ſhalbe rich ere we depart, Yf Fayrings come thus plentifully in. A Ladie walde about with Diamondes: Looke you, what I haue from the louing King. Madame, came nothing els along with that? Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be crambd vp in a ſheete of paper Writ a both ſides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine to ſeale on Cupids name. That was the way to make his god-head Wax: For he hath been fiue thouſand yeere a Boy. I and a ſhrowde vnhappie gallowes too. Youle neare be friendes with him, a kild your ſiſter. He made her melancholie, ſad, and heauie, And ſo ſhe died: had ſhe bin Light like you, of ſuch a mery nimble ſtiring ſpirit, ſhe might a bin Grandam ere ſhe died. And ſo may you: For a light hart liues long. Whats your darke meaning mouce, of this light word? A light condition in a beautie darke. We neede more light to finde your meaning out. Yole marre the light by taking it in ſnuffe: Therefore Ile darkly ende the argument. Looke what you do, you do it ſtill i'th darke. So do not you, for you are a light Wench. In deede I waigh not you, and therefore light. You waigh me not, O thats you care not for me. Great reaſon: for paſt care, is ſtill paſt cure. Well bandied both, a ſet of Wit well played. But Raſaline, you haue a Fauour too? Who ſent it? and what is it? I would you knew. And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be witneſſe this. Nay I haue Vearſes too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbring too, I were the fayreſt Goddeſſe on the ground. I am comparde to twentie thouſand fairs. O he hath drawen my picture in his letter. Any thing like? Much in the letters, nothing in the praiſe. Beautious as Incke: a good concluſion. Faire as a text B in a Coppie booke. Ware penſalls, How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominicall, my golden letter, O that your face were not ſo full of Oes. A Poxe of that ieſt, and I beſhrow all Shrowes. But Katherine what was ſent to you From faire Dumaine? Madame, this Gloue▪ Did he not ſend you twaine? Yes Madame: and moreouer, Some thouſand Verſes of a faithfull Louer. A hudge tranſlation of hipocriſie, Vildly compyled, profound ſimplicitie. This, and theſe Pearle, to me ſent Longauile. The Letter is too long by halfe a mile.