Blurt, Master Constable, or The Spaniard's Night Walk · chunk 4 of 34
Anonymous · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 [1601-1602] (Annals) romance · Children of Paul's (second) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.81 · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Not the measure out fair Mistress? No, fair servant, not the measure out, I have on the sudden a foolish desire to be out of the measure. What breeds that desire? Nay I hope it is no breeding matter, tush, tush, by my maidenhead I will not, the music likes me not, and I have a shoe wrings me toth' heart; beside I have a woman's reason, I will not dance, because I will not dance: prithee dear Hero take my prisoner there into the measure; fie I cannot abide to see a man sad nor idle, I'll be out once, as the Music is (in mine care) Lady, bid him whose heart no sorrow feels, Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels, I have too much lead at mine. I'll make it light. How? By a nimble dance. You hit it right. Your Keeper bids you dance. Then I obey, My heart I feel grows light, it melts away. In troth a very pretty French man, the carriage of his body likes me well; so does his footing so does his face, so does his eye above his face, so does himself, above all that can be above himself. Camillo thou hast played a foolish part, Thy prisoner makes a slave of thy loves heart. Shall Camillo then sing willow, willow, willow? not for the world: no, no, my French prisoner; I will use thee Cupid knows how, and teach thee to fall into the hands of a woman: if I do not feed thee with fair looks, near let me live: if thou getst out of my fingers till I have thy very heart, near let me love; nothing but thy life shall serve my turn, and how otherwise I'll plague thee, Monsieur you and I'll deal, only this, because I'll be sure he shall not start, I'll lock him in a little low room besides himself, where his wanton eye shall see neither Sun nor Moon: So, the dance is done, and my heart has done her worst, made me in love: farewell my Lord, I have much haste, you have many thanks, I am angered a little, but am greatly pleased: if you wonder that I take this strange leave; excuse it thus, that women are strange fools, and will take any thing. Tricks: tricks? kerry merry buff; how now lad, in a trance? Strange farewell: after, dear Hippolito, O what a maze is love of joy and woe! Strange frenzy; after wretched Fontinell, Oh what a heaven is love! oh what a hell! Boy, I am melancholy because I burn. And I am melancholy because I am a cold. I pine away with the desire of flesh. It's neither flesh nor fish that I pine for, but for both. Pilcher, Cupid hath got me a stomach, and I long for laced mutton. Plain mutton without a lace would serve me.
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)
Not the measure out faire Mistris? No, faire seruant, not the measure out, I haue on the sodaine a foolish desire to be out of the measure. What breeds that desire? Nay I hope it is no breeding matter, tush, tush, by my maiden-head I will not, the musicke likes me not, and I haue a shooe wrings me to'th heart; besides I haue a womans reason, I will not daunce, because I will not daunce: prethee deare Hero take my prisoner there into the measure; fye I cannot abide to see a man sad nor idle, Ile bee out once, as the Musicke is (in mine care) Lady, bid him whose heart no sorrow feeles, Tickle the rushes with his wanton heeles, I haue too much lead at mine. Ile make it light. How? By a nimble daunce. You hit it right. Your Keeper bids you daunce. Then I obay, My heart I feele growes light, it melts away. In troth a very pretty French man, the carriage of his bodie likes me well; so does his footing so does his face, so does his eye aboue his face, so does himselfe, aboue all that can bee aboue himselfe. Camillo thou hast plaide a foolish part, Thy prisoner makes a slaue of thy loues heart. Shal Camillo then sing willow, willow, willow? not for the world: no, no, my French prisoner; I will vse thee Cupid knowes how, and teach thee to fall into the hands of a woman: if I doe not feede thee with faire lookes, nere let me liue: if thou getst out of my fingers til I haue thy verie heart, nere let me loue; nothing but thy life shall serue my turne, and how otherwise Ile plague thee, Monsieur you and Ile deale, onely this, because Ile be sure he shall not start, Ile locke him in a little low roome besides himselfe, where his wanton eye shall see neither Sunne nor Moone: So, the daunce is done, and my heart has done her worst, made me in loue: farewel my Lord, I haue much hast, you haue many thankes, I am angred a little, but am greatly pleas'd: if you wonder that I take this strange leaue; excuse it thus, that women are strange fooles, and will take any thing. Trickes: trickes? kerry merry buffe; how now lad, in a traunce? Strange farewell: after, deere Hippolito, O what a maze is loue of ioy and woe! Strange frenzie; after wretched Fontinell, Oh what a heauen is loue! oh what a hell! Boy, I am melancholy because I burne. And I am melancholy because I am a colde. I pine away with the desire of flesh. It's neither flesh nor fish that I pine for, but for both. Pilcher, Cupid hath got me a stomacke, and I long for lac'd mutton. Plaine mutton without a lace would serue me.