Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (second) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.75 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Approach good sir. I did send for you to draw me a device, an Imprezza, by synecdoche a Mott. By Phoebus crimson taffeta mantle, I think I speak as melodiously, look you sir, how think you on't? I would have you paint me, for my device, a good fat leg of ewe mutton, swimming in stewed broth of plums (boy keel your mouth, it runs over) and the word shall be; Hold my dish, whilst I spill my pottage. Sure, in my conscience, 'twould be the most sweet device, now. 'twould sent of kitchen-stuff too much. God's neakes, now I remember me, I ha' the rarest device in my head that ever breathed. Can you paint me a drivelling reeling song, & let the word be, Vh. A belch. O, no no: Vh, paint me vh, or nothing. It can not be done sir, but by a seeming kind of drunkenness. No? well, let me have a good massy ring, with your own poesy graven in it, that must sing a small treble, word for word, thus; And if you will my true lover be, Come follow me to the green wood. O Lord, sir, I can not make a picture sing. Why? 'zlid, I have seen painted things sing as sweet: But I have't will tickle it, for a conceit i'faith. O dear Feliche, give me thy device. How shall I purchase love of Rossaline? S'will, flatter her soundly. Her love is such, I can not flatter her: But with my utmost vehemence of speech, I have adored her beauties. Hast writ good moving unaffected rhymes to her. O, yes, Feliche, but she scorns my writ. Hast thou presented her with sumptuous gifts? Alas, my fortunes are too weak to offer them. O, than I have it, I'll tell thee what to do. What, good Feliche? Go and hang thyself, I say, go hang thyself, If that thou canst not give, go hang thyself: I'll rhyme thee dead, or verse thee to the rope. How thinkst thou of a Poet that sung thus; Munera sola pacant, sola addunt munera formam: Munere solicits Pallada, Cypris erit. Munera, munera. I'll go and breathe my woes unto the rocks, And spend my grief upon the deafest seas. I'll weep my passion to the senseless trees, And load most solitary air with plaints. For woods, trees, sea, or rocky Apennine, Is not so ruthless as my Rossaline. Farewell dear friend, expect no more of me, Here ends my part, in this loves Comedy. Now master Balurdo, whether are you going, ha? signor Feliche, how do you faith, & by my troth, how do you? Whether art thou going, bully? And as heaven help me, how do you? How, do you i'faith he? Whether art going man? O god, to the Court, i'll be willing to give you grace and good countenance, if I may but see you in the presence.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Approach good sir. I did send for you to drawe me a deuise, an Imprezza, by Sinecdoche a Mott. By Phoebus crymson taffata mantle, I thinke I speake as melodiously, looke you sir, how thinke you ont? I wold haue you paint mee, for my deuice, a good fat legge of ewe mutton, swimming in stewde broth of plummes (boy keele your mouth, it runnes ouer) and the word shall be; Holde my dish, whilst I spill my pottage. Sure, in my conscience, twould be the most sweete deuice, now. Twould sent of kitchin-stuffe too much. Gods neakes, now I remember mee, I ha the rarest deuise in my head that euer breathed. Can you paint me a driueling reeling song, & let the word be, Vh. A belch. O, no no: Vh, paint me vh, or nothing. It can not be done sir, but by a seeming kinde of drunkennesse. No? well, let me haue a good maffe ring, with your owne poesie grauen in it, that must sing a small trebble, worde for word, thus; And if you will my true louer be, Come followe mee to the greene wodde. O Lord, sir, I can not make a picture sing. Why? z'lid, I haue seen painted things sing as sweet: But I hau't will tickle it, for a conceipt ifaith. O deare Feliche, giue me thy deuice. How shall I purchase loue of Rossaline? S'will, flatter her soundly. Her loue is such, I can not flatter her: Bu with my vtmost vehemence of speach, I haue ador'd her beauties. Hast writ good mouing vnaffected rimes to her. O, yes, Feliche, but she scornes my writ. Hast thou presented her with sumptuous gifts? Alas, my fortunes are too weake to offer them. O, then I haue it, Ile tell thee what to doe. What, good Feliche? Goe and hang thy selfe, I say, goe hang thy selfe, If that thou canst not giue, goe hang thy selfe: Ile rime thee dead, or verse thee to the rope. How thinkst thou of a Poet that sung thus; Munera sola pacant, sola addunt munera formam: Munere solicites Pallada, Cypris erit. Munera, munera. Ile goe and breath my woes vnto the rocks, And spend my griefe vpon the deafest seas. Ile weepe my passion to the senselesse trees, And load most solitarie ayre with plaints. For wods, trees, sea, or rocky Appenine, Is not so ruthlesse as my Rossaline. Farewell deare friend, expect no more of mee, Here ends my part, in this loues Comedy. Now master Balurdo, whether are you going, ha? Signior Feliche, how doe you faith, & by my troth, how doe you? Whether art thou going, bully? And as heauen helpe mee, how doe you? How, doe you ifaith he? Whether art going man? O god, to the Court, ile be willing to giue you grace and good countnance, if I may but see you in the presence.