Chapman, George · published 1606 · first performed or written 1602 [Sep 18] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Sing good Horatio, while I sigh and write. According to my master Plato's mind The Soul is music, and doth therefore joy In accents musical, which he that hates With points of discord is together tied And barks at Reason, Consonant in sense. Divine Eugenia, bears the ocular form Of music and of Reason, and presents The Soul exempt from flesh in flesh inflamed, Who must not love her then, that loves his soul? To her I write, my friend, the star of friends Will needs have my strange lines greet her strange eyes And for his sake I'll power my poor Soul forth In floods of Ink; but did not his kind hand Bar me with violent grace, I wood consume. In the white flames of her impassionate Love Ere my harsh lips should vent the odorous blaze. For I am desperate of all worldly joys And there was never man so harsh to men, When I am fullest of digested life I seem a lifeless embryon to all Each day racked up in nightlike Funeral. Sing good Horatio, whilst I sigh and write. Suffer him to love that suffers not loving, my love is without passion and therefore free from alteration. Prose is too harsh, and verse is poetry Why should I write then? merit clad in Ink Is but a mourner, and as good as naked I will not write my friend shall speak for me Sing one stave more my good Horatio. I must remember I know whom I love, A dame of learning, and of life exempt From all the Idle fancies of her sex, And this that to another dame wood seem Perplexed and folded in a rudelesse vail willbe more clear than ballads to her eye I'll write, if but to satisfy my friend. Your third stance sweet Horatio and no more. How vainly do I offer my strange love? I marry, and bid states, and entertain Ladies with tales and jests, and Lords with news And keep a house to feast Actaeon's hounds That eat their master, and let idle guests Draw me from serious search of things divine To bid them sit, and welcome, and take care To soothe their palates with choice kitchenstuff As all must do that marry and keep house And then look on the left sid of my yoke Or on the right perhaps and see my wife Draw in a quite repugnant course from me Busied to starch her french purls, and her puffs When I am in my Anima refiexa quid sit faelicitas quae origo rerum? And make these beings that are known to be The only serious objects of true men Seem shadows, with substantial stir she keeps About her shadows, which if husband's love They must believe, and thus my other self Brings me another body to dispose That have already much too much of one, And must not look for any Soul of her To help two rule to bodies.
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)
Sing good Horatio, while I sigh and write. According to my master Platos minde The Soule is musick, and doth therefore ioy In accents musicall, which he that hates VVith points of discorde is togeather tyed And barkes at Reason, Consonant in sence. Diuine Eugenia, beares the ular forme Of musicke and of Reason, and presents The Soule exempt from flesh in flesh inflam'd, Who must not loue hir then, that loues his soule? To her I write, my friend, the stare of friends VVil needs haue my strange lines greet her strange eies And for his fake ile powre my poore Soule forth In floods of Inke; but did not his kind hand Barre me with violent grace, I wood consume. In the white flames of her impassionate Loue Ee my harsh lipps shood vent the odorous blaze. For I am desperae of all worldly Ioyes And there was neuer man so harsh to men, VVhen I am fullest of digested life I seeme a liuelesse Embrion to all Each day rackt vp in nightlike Funerall. Sing good Horatio, whilst I sigh and write. Suffer him to loue that suffers not louing, my loue is without passion and therefore free from alteration. Prose is too harsh, and verse is poetrie VVhy shood I write then? merrit clad in Inke Is but a mourner, and as good as naked I will not write my friend shall speake for me Sing one staue more my good Horatio. I must remember I knowe whom I loue, Adame of learning, and of life exemt From all the Idle fancies of her sex, And this that to an other dame wood seeme Perplex and foulded in a rudelesse vaile Wilbe more cleere then ballads to her eye Ile write, if but to satisfie my friend. Your third stauce sweet Horatio and no more. How vainely doe I offer my strange loue? I marrie, and bid states, and entertaine Ladies with tales and iests, and Lords with newes And keepe a house to feast Acteons hounds That eate their maister, and let ydell guests Drawe me from serious search of things diuine To bid them sit, and welcome, and take care To sooth their pal ats with choyce kytchin-stuff As all must doe that marrie and keepe house And then looke on the left sid of my yoake Or on the right perhaps and see my wife Drawe in a quite repugnant course from me Busied to starch her french purles, and her puffs When I am in my Anima refiexa quid sit faelicitas quae origo rerum? And make thee beings that are knowne to be The onely serious obiects of true men Seeme shadowes, with substanti al stir she keepes About her shadowes, which if husbands loue They must belieue, and thus my other selfe Brings me another bodie to dispose That haue alreadie much too much of one, And must not looke for any Soule of her To helpe two rule to bodies.