Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.82 · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
O, stay, my love: the hopes thou dost conceive Of thy quick death, and of thy future life, Are not authentical. Thou choosest death, So thou might'st joy thy love, in th'other life. But know (my princely love) when thou art dead, Thou only must survive in perfect soul; And in the soul, are no affections: We power out our affections with our blood; And with our bloods affections, fade our loves. " No life hath love in such sweet state, as this; No essence is so dear to moody sense, " As flesh, and blood; whose quintessence is sense. Beauty, composed of blood, and flesh, moves more, " And is more plausible to blood, and flesh, Then spiritual beauty can be to the spirit. Such apprehension, as we have in dreams (When sleep, the bond of senses, locks them up) Such shall we have, when death destroys them quite. If love be then thy object, change not life; Live high, and happy still: I still below, Close with my fortunes, in thy height, shall joy. Ay me, that virtue, whose brave eagles wings With every stroke, blow stars, in burning heaven; Should like a swallow (preying toward storms) Fly close to earth: and with an eager plume, Pursue those objects, which none else can see, But seem to all the world, the empty air. Thus thou (poor OVID) and all virtuous men Must prey like swallows, on invisible food; Pursuing flies, or nothing: and thus love, And every worldly fancy, is transposed, By worldly tyranny, to what plight it list. O, father, since thou gav'st me not my mind, Strive not to rule it: Take, but what thou gav'st To thy disposure. Thy affections Rule not in me; I must bear all my griefs, Let me use all my pleasures: virtuous love Was never scandal to a Goddess state. But, he's inflexible! and, my dear love, Thy life may chance be shortened, by the length Of my unwilling speeches to depart. Farewell, sweet life: though thou be yet exiled Th'officious court, enjoy me amply, still: My soul, in this my breath, enters thine ears, And on this turret's floor, will I lie dead, Till we may meet again. In this proud height, I kneel beneath thee, in my prostrate love, And kiss the happy sands, that kiss thy feet. " Great JOVE submits a sceptre, to a cell; And lovers, ere they part, will meet in hell. Farewell, all company; and if I could All light with thee: hell's shade should hide my brows, Till thy dear beauty's beams redeemed my vows. OVID, my love: alas, may we not stay A little longer (think'st thou) undiscerned? For thine own good, fair Goddess, do not stay: Who would engage a firmament of fires, Shining in thee, for me, a falling star? Be gone, sweet lifeblood: if I should discern thyself but touched, for my sake, I should die. I will be gone, then; and not heaven itself Shall draw me back.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1516–1577 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 40 of 57 in this edition
Length
501 words · 700 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T4 — Love-longing and the lover's complaintcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.824 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
O, stay, my loue: the hopes thou do'st conceiue Of thy quicke death, and of thy future life, Are not autenticall. Thou choosest death, So thou might'st ioy thy loue, in th'other life. But know (my princely loue) when thou art dead, Thou onely must suruiue in perfect soule; And in the soule, are no affections: We powre out our affections with our bloud; And with our blouds affections, fade our loues. "No life hath loue in such sweet state, as this; "No essence is so deare to moodie sense, "As flesh, and bloud; whose quintessence is sense. "Beautie, compos'd of bloud, and flesh, moues more, "And is more plausible to bloud, and flesh, "Then spirituall beautie can be to the spirit. Such apprehension, as we haue in dreames (When sleepe, the bond of senses, locks them vp) Such shall we haue, when death destroies them quite. If loue be then thy obiect, change not life; Liue high, and happy still: I still below, Close with my fortunes, in thy height, shall ioy. Ay me, that vertue, whose braue eagles wings With euery stroke, blow starres, in burning heauen; Should like a swallow (preying toward stormes) Fly close to earth: and with an eager plume, Pursue those obiects, which none else can see, But seeme to all the world, the emptie aire. Thus thou (poore OVID) and all vertuous men Must prey like swallowes, on inuisible foode; Pursuing flies, or nothing: and thus loue, And euery worldly phansie, is transpos'd, By worldly tyrannie, to what plight it list. O, father, since thou gau'st me not my mind, Striue not to rule it: Take, but what thou gau'st To thy disposure. Thy affections Rule not in me; I must beare all my griefes, Let me vse all my pleasures: vertuous loue Was neuer scandall to a Goddesse state. But, hee's inflexible! and, my deare loue, Thy life may chance be shortned, by the length Of my vnwilling speeches to depart. Farewell, sweet life: though thou be yet exil'd Th'officious court, enioy me amply, still: My soule, in this my breath, enters thine eares, And on this turrets floore, will I lie dead, Till we may meet againe. In this proud height, I kneele beneath thee, in my prostrate loue, And kisse the happy sands, that kisse thy feet. "Great IOVE submits a scepter, to a cell; "And louers, ere they part, will meet in hell. Farewell, all companie; and if I could All light with thee: hells shade should hide my browes, Till thy deare beauties beames redeem'd my vowes. OVID, my loue: alas, may we not stay A little longer (think'st thou) vndiscern'd? For thine owne good, faire Goddesse, doe not stay: Who would ingage a firmament of fires, Shining in thee, for me, a falling starre? Be gone, sweet life-bloud: if I should discerne Thy selfe but toucht, for my sake, I should die. I will be gone, then; and not heauen it selfe Shall draw me backe.