Chapman, George · published 1606 · first performed or written 1602 [Sep 18] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.86 · 522 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Work on sweet love, I am not yet resolved T'exhaust this troubled spring of vanities And nurse of perturbations, my poor life, And therefore since in every man that holds This being dear, there must be some desire Whose power to enjoy his object may so mask The judging part that in her radiant eyes His estimation of the world may seem Upright, and worthy, I have chosen love To blind my Reason with his misty hands And make my estimative power believe I have a project worthy to employ What worth soever my whole man affords: Then sit at rest my Soul, thou now hast found The end of thy infusion, in the eyes Of thy divine Eugenia look for heaven. Thanks gentle friends is your good Lord and mine, gone up to bed yet? I do assure ye not Sir, not yet, nor yet, my deep, and studious friend, not yet musical Clarence. My Lord? Nor yet, thou sole divider of my Lordship. That were a most unfit division And far above the pitch of my low plumes I am your bold and constant guest my Lord. Far, far from bold, for thou hast known me long Almost these twenty years, and half those years Hast been my bedfellow; long time before This unseen thing, this thing of nought indeed Or Atom called, my Lordship shined in me, And yet thou mak'st thy self as little bold To take such kindness, as becomes the Age And truth of our indissoluble love As our acquaintance sprung but yesterday Such is thy gentle and too tender Spirit. M Lord, my want of Courtship makes me feare I should be rude, and this my mean estate meets with such envy, and detraction Such misconstructions, and resolved misdooms Of my poor worth, that should I be advanced Beyond my unseen lownesses, but one hair I should be torn in pieces with the Spirits That fly in ill-lunged tempests through the world, Tearing the head of virtue from her shoulders If she but look out of the ground of glory. Twixt, whom, and me and every worldly fortune There fights such sour, and Cursed Antipathy So waspish, and so petulant a Star, That all things tending to my grace or good Are ravished from their object, as I were A thing created for a wilderness And must not think of any place with men. O hark you Sir, this wayward mood of yours must sifted be, or rather rooted out, you'll no more music Sir? Not now my Lord, begone my masters then to bed, to bed. I thank you honest friends Hence with this book & now monsieur Clarence, methinks plain & prose friendship would do excellent well betwixt us come thus Sir, or rather thus, come Sir 'tis time I trow that we both lived like one body, thus, and that both our sides were slit, and Concorporate with Organs fit to effect an individual passage even for out very thoughts; suppose we were one body now, and I charge you believe it; where of I am the heart, and you the liver.
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)
VVorke on sweet loue, I am not yet resolud T'exhaust this troubled spring of vanities And nurse of perturbations, my poore life, And therefore since in euery man that holds This being deare, there must be some desire VVhose power to' enioy his obiect may so maske The Iudging part that in her radyant eyes His estimation of the world may seeme Vpright, and worthy, I haue chosen loue To blind my Reason with his mistie handes And make my estimatiue power beleiue I haue a proiect worthy to imploy VVhat worth so euer my whole man affordes: Then sit at rest my Soule, thou now hast found The ende of thy infusion, in the eyes Of thy diuine Eugenia looke for heauen. Thanks gentle friends is your good Lord and mine, gon vp to bedd yet? I do assure ye not Sir, not yet, nor yet, my deep, and studious friend, not yet musicall Clarence. My Lord? Nor yet, thou sole deuider of my Lordshippe. That were a most vnfit diuision And farre aboue the pitche of my lowe plumes I am your bold and constant guest my Lord. Far, far from bold, for thou hast known me long Almost theis twentie yeares, and halfe those yeares Hast bin my bedfellow; long time before This vnseene thing, this thing of nought indeed Or Atome cald, my Lordshippe shinde in me, And yet thou makst thy sele as little bould To take such kindnes, as becomes the Age And truth of our indissolable loue As our acquaintance sprong but yesterday Such is thy gentle and too tender Spirit. M Lord, my want of Courtship makes me feare I should be rude, and this my meane estate Meees with such enuie, and detraction Such misconstructions, and resolud misdoomes Of my poore worth, that should I be aduaunc'd Beyond my vnseene lowens, but one haie I should be torne in peeces with the Spirits That flye in ill-lungd tempests through the world, Tearing the head of vertue from her shoulders If she but looke out of the ground of glorie. Twixt, whome, and me and euery worldlie fortune There fiights such sowre, and Curst Antipathy So waspihe, and so petulant a Starre, That al things tending to my grace or good Are rauisht from their obiect, as I were A thing created for a wildernes And must not thinke of any place with men. O harke you Sir, this waiwarde moode of yours must syfted be, or rather rooted out, youle no more musick Sir? Not now my Lord, Begon my masters then to bedd, to bedd. I thanke you honest frinds Hence with this book & now Mousieur Clarence, methinks plaine & prose friendship would do excellent well betwixt vs comethus Sir, or rather thus, come Sir tis time I trowe that we both liu'd like one bodie, thus, ad that both our sides were sli, and Concorporat with Organs fit to effect an indiuiduall passage euen for out very thoughts; suppose wee were one bodie now, and I charge you beleeue it; where of I am the hart, and you the liuer.