The Dutch Courtesan (Cockle de Moye) · chunk 6 of 35
Marston, John · published 1605 · first performed or written 1605 [1603-1605] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.86 · 530 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Rest to mine dear love, rest, and no long absence. Believe me not long. Sall Ick not believe you long. O yes, come viah, away, boy, on. Is she unchaste, can such a one be damned? O love and beauty, ye two eldest seeds Of the vast Chaos, what strong right you have, Even in things divine, our very souls. Wha, ha, ho, come bird come, stand peace. Are strumpets then such things, so delicate, Can custom spoil, what nature made so good. Or is their Custom bad? beauty's for use, I never saw a sweet face vicious, It might be proud, inconstant, wanton, nice, But never tainted with unnatural vice. Their worst is, their best art is love to win, O that to love should be or shame, or sin; By the Lord he's caught, Laughter eternal? Soul I must love her destiny is weak to my affection. A common love, blush not faint breast That which is euer loued of most is b Let colder-eld the strongst obiections mo, No love's without some lust, no life without some love. Nay come on good sir, what though the most odious spectacle the world can present be an immodest vulgar woman: Yet sir for my sake. Well sir for your sake I'll think better of them. Do good sir and pardon me that have brought you in You know the sight of vice augments the hate of sin. Hah? will you go home sir 'tis high bed time. With all my heart sir only do not chide me I must confess. A wanton lover you have been. O that to love should be or shame, or sin. Say ye? Let colder eld the strongest objections move. how's this? No love's without some lust, No life without some love, go your ways for an Apostata, I believe my cast garment must be let out in the seams for you when all is done," Of all the fools that would all man out-thrust," He that 'gainst Nature would seem wise is worst. The morn is yet but young: here gentlemen, This is my Beatrice window, this the chamber Of my betrothed dearest, whose chaste eyes, Full of loved sweetness, and clear cheerfulness, Have gaged my soul to her in joyings, Shredding away all those weak under-branches, Of base affections, and unfruitful heats, Here bestow your music to my voice. Always a virtuous name to my chaste love, Loved sir the honour of your wish return to you, I cannot with a mistress complement Forced discourses, or nice art of wit, Give entertain to your dear wished presence, But safely thus, what hearty gratefulness, Unsullen Silence, unaffected modesty, And an unignorant shamefastness can express, Receive as your protested due. Faith my heart, I am your servant, O let not my secure simplicity, breed your mislike, As one quite void of skill, 'tis Grace enough in us not to be ill, I can some good, and faith I mean no hurt, Do not then sweet wrong sober ignorance, I judge you all of virtue, and our vows, Should kill all fears that base distrust can move, my soul what say you, still you love?
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)
Reſt to mine deare loue, reſt, and no long abſence. Beleeue me not long. Sall Ick not beleeue you long. O yes, come viah, away, boy, on. Is ſhe vnchaſt, can ſuch a one be damde? O loue and beautie, yee two eldeſt ſeedes Of the vaſt Chaos, what ſtrong right you haue, Euen in thinges diuine, our very ſoules. Wha, ha, ho, come bird come, ſtand peace. Are ſtrumpets then ſuch things, ſo delicate, Can cuſtome ſpoile, what nature made ſo good. Or is their Cuſtome bad? Beauti's for vſe, I neuer ſaw a ſweet face vitious, It might be proud, inconſtant, wanton, nice, But neuer tainted with vnnaturall vice. Their worſt is, their beſt art is loue to winne, O that to loue ſhould be or ſhame, or ſinne; By the Lord hee's caught, Laughter eternall? Soule I muſt loue her deſteny is weake to my affection. A common loue, bluſh not faint breaſt That which is euer loued of moſt is b Let colder-eld the ſtrongſt obiections mo, No lou's without ſome luſt, o life without ſome loue. Nay come on good ſir, what though the moſt odious ſpectacle the world can preſent be an imōdeſt vulgar woman: Yet ſir for my ſake. Well ſir for your ſake Ile thinke better of them. Doe good ſir and pardon me that haue brought you in You knowe the ſight of vice augments the hate of ſinne. Hah? will you go home ſir 'tis hye bed time. Withall my hart ſir only do not chide me I muſt confeſſe. A wanton louer you haue been. O that to loue ſhould be or ſhame, or ſinne. Say yee? Let colder eld the ſtrongſt obiections mooue. Howe's this? No loue's without ſome luſt, No life without ſome loue, go your wayes for an Apoſtata, I beleue my caſt garment muſt be let out in the ſeames for you when all is done, "Of all the fooles that would all man out-thruſt, "He that 'gainſt Nature would ſeeme wiſe is worſt. The morne is yet but younge: here gentlemen, This is my Beatrice window, this the chamber Of my betrothed deareſt, whoſe chaſte eyes, Full of lou'd ſweetneſſe, and cleare cherefulnes, Haue gag'd my ſoule to her in ioyings, Shredding away all thoſe weake vnder-braunches, Of baſe affections, and vnfruitfull heates, Here beſtow your muſick to my voyce. Alwaies a vertuous name to my chaſt loue, Lou'd ſir the honor of your wiſh returne to you, I cannot with a miſtres complement Forced diſcourſſes, or nice art of wit, Giue entertaine to your deere wiſhed preſence, But ſafely thus, what harty gratefulnes, Vnſulleine Silence, vnaffected modeſty, And an vnignorant ſhamefaſtnes can expreſſe, Receiue as your proteſted due. Faith my hart, I am your ſeruant, O let not my ſecure ſimplicity, breed your miſlike, As one quite voyde of ſkill, Tis Grace inough in vs not to be ill, I can ſome good, and faith I mean no hurt, Do not then ſweete wrong ſober ignorance, I iudge you all of vertue, and our vowes, Should kill all feares that baſe diſtruſt can mooue, my ſoule what ſay you, ſtill you loue?