Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Nov 9-30, payment] (Annals) romance · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Not so, for when her soul steals into her heart, and her heart leaps up to her eyes, and her eyes drop into her hands, then if she say, Here's my hand, she's your own, else never. Here's a pair of your prisoners, let's try their opinion. My kind prisoners well encountered, the Prince of Cyprus here and myself have been wrangling about a question of love: My Lord of Orleans, you look lean, and likest a lover; Whether is it more torment to love a Lady and never enjoy her, or always to enjoy a Lady, whom you cannot choose but hate? To hold her ever in mine arms whom I loathe in my heart, were some plague, yet the punishment were no more than to be enjoined to keep poison in my hand, yet never to taste it. But say you should be compelled to swallow the poison. Then a speedy death would end a speeding misery: But to love a Lady and never enjoy her, oh it is not death, but worse than damnation; 'tis hell, 'tis. No more, no more, good Orleans, nay then I see my prisoner is in love too. methinks, soldiers cannot fall into the fashion of love. methinks, a Soldier is the most faithful lover of all men else: for his affection stands not upon complement: his wooing is plain homespun stuff: there's no outlandish thread in it, no Rhetoric: a Soldier casts no figures to get his mistress heart, his love is like his valour in the field, when he pays downright blows. True, Madam, but would you receive such payment? No, but I mean, I love a Soldier best, for his plain dealing. That's as good as the first. Be it so, that goodness I like: for what Lady can abide to love a Spruce silken face Courtier, that stands every morning two or three hours learning how to look by his Glass, how to speak by his Glass, how to sigh by his glass, how to court his Mistress by his Glass. I would wish him no other plague, but to have a Mistress as brittle as glass. And that were as bad as the horn plague. Are any lovers possessed with this madness? What madmen are not possessed with this love? yet by my troth, we poor women do but smile in our sleeves to see all this foppery: yet we all desire to see our lovers attired gallantly, to hear them sing sweetly, to behold them dance comely and such like; but this apish monkey fashion of effeminate niceness, out upon it: Oh, I hate it worse than to be counted a scold. Indeed men are most regarded, when they least regard themselves. And women most honoured, when they show most mercy to their lovers. But be't not a miserable tyranny, to see a Lady triumph in the passions of a soul languishing through her cruelty?
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)
Not so, for when her soule steales into her heart, and her heart leapes vp to her eyes, and her eyes drop into her hands, then if shee say, Heres my hand, shees your owne, else neuer. Heres a paire of your prisoners, lets try their opinion. My kind prisoners well encountred, the Prince of Cyprus here and my selfe haue beene wrangling about a question of loue: My Lord of Orleans, you looke leane, and likest a louer; Whether is it more torment to loue a Lady and neuer enioy her, or alwaies to enioy a Lady, whome you cannot choose but hate? To hold her euer in mine armes whome I loath in my heart, were some plague, yet the punishment were no more then to be enioyned to keepe poyson in my hand, yet neuer to taste it. But say you should be compeld to swallow ye poyson. Then a speedy death would end a speeding miserie: But to loue a Lady and neuer enioy her, oh it is not death, but worse then damnation; Tis hell, tis. No more, no more, good Orleans, nay then I see my prisoner is in loue too. Me thinkes, souldiers cannot fal into the fashion of loue. Me thinkes, a Souldier is the most faithfull louer of all men els: for his affection stands not vpon complement: his wooing is plaine home-spun stuffe: theres no outlandish thred in it, no Rethoricke: a Souldier casts no figures to get his mistris heart, his loue is like his valour in the field, when he payes downe-right blowes. True, Madam, but would you receiue such paiment? No, but I meane, I loue a Souldier best, for his plaine dealing. Thats as good as the first. Be it so, that goodnesse I like: for what Lady can abide to loue a Spruce silken face Courtier, that stands euery morning two or three howres learning how to looke by his Glasse, how to speake by his Glasse, how to sigh by his glasse, how to court his Mistris by his Glasse. I would wish him no other plague, but to haue a Mistris as brittle as glasse. And that were as bad as the horne plague. Are any louers possest with this madnes? What madmen are not possest with this loue? yet by my troth, wee poore women doe but smile in our sleeues to see all this fopperie: yet we all desire to see our louers attirde gallantly, to heare them sing sweetely, to behold them daunce comely and such like; but this apish monkie fashion of effeminate nicenesse, out vpon it: Oh, I hate it worse then to bee counted a scould. Indeede men are most regarded, when they least regard themselues. And women most honored, when they shew most mercy to their louers. But ist not a miserable tyranie, to see a Lady triumph in the passions of a soule languishing through her crueltie?