Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Lady, I kiss your bounty: and, for this timely grace, you have done your poor SCOTO of Mantua, I will return you, over and above my oil, a secret, of that high, and inestimable nature, shall make you for ever enamoured on that minute, wherein your eye first descended on so mean, (yet not altogether to be despised) an object. Here is a powder, concealed in this paper, of which, if I should speak to the worth, nine thousand volumes were but as one page, that page as a line, that line as a word: so short is this pilgrimage of man (which some call life) to the expressing of it. Would I reflect on the price? why, the whole world were but as an empire, that empire as a province, that province as a bank, that bank as a private purse, to the purchase of it. I will, only, tell you; It is the powder, that made VENUS a goddess (given her by APOLLO) that kept her perpetually young, cleared her wrinkles, firmed her gums, filled her skin, coloured her hair; from her, derived to HELEN, and at the sack of Troy (unfortunately) lost: till now, in this our age, it was as happily recovered, by a studious Antiquary, out of some ruins of Asia, who sent a moiety of it, to the court of France (but much sophisticated) wherewith the ladies there, now, colour their hair. The rest (at this present) remains with me; extracted, to a quintessence: so that, wherever it but touches, in youth it perpetually preserves, in age restores the complexion; seats your teeth, did they dance like virginal jacks, firm as a wall; makes them white, as ivory, that were black, as— spite o' the devil, and my shame! come down, here; Come down: no house but mine to make your scene? signor FLAMINIO, will you down, sir? down? What is my wife your FRANCISCINA? sir? No windows on the whole piazza, here, To make your properties, but mine? but mine? Heart! ere tomorrow, I shall be new christened, And called the PANTALONE di besogniosi, About the town. What should this mean, sir POL? Some trick of state, believe it. I will home. It may be some design, on you. I know not. I'll stand upon my guard. It is your best, sir. This three weeks, all my advises, all my letters, They have been intercepted. Indeed, sir? Best have a care. Nay, so I will. This knight, I may not lose him, for my mirth, till night. O, I am wounded. Where, sir? Not without; Those blows were nothing: I could bear them ever. But angry CUPID, bolting from her eyes, Hath shot himself into me, like a flame; Where, now, he flings about his burning heat, As in a furnace, an ambitious fire, Whose vent is stopped. The fight is all within me. I cannot live, except thou help me, MOSCA; My liver melts, and I, without the hope Of some soft air, from her refreshing breath, Am but a heap of cinders.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Lady, I kisse your bountie: and, for this timely grace, you haue done your poore SCOTO of Mantua, I will returne you, ouer and aboue my oile, a secret, of that high, and inestimable nature, shall make you for euer enamour'd on that minute, wherein your eye first descended on so meane, (yet not altogether to be despis'd) an obiect. Here is a poulder, conceal'd in this paper, of which, if I should speake to the worth, nine thousand volumes were but as one page, that page as a line, that line as a word: so short is this pilgrimage of man (which some call life) to the expressing of it. Would I reflect on the price? why, the whole world were but as an empire, that empire as a prouince, that prouince as a banke, that banke as a priuate purse, to the purchase of it. I will, onely, tell you; It is the poulder, that made VENVS a goddesse (giuen her by APOLLO) that kept her perpetually yong, clear'd her wrincles, firm'd her gummes, fill'd her skin, colour'd her haire; from her, deriu'd to HELEN, and at the sack of Troy (vnfortunately) lost: till now, in this our age, it was as happily recouer'd, by a studious Antiquarie, out of some ruines of Asia, who sent a moyetie of it, to the court of France (but much sophisticated) wherewith the ladies there, now, colour their haire. The rest (at this present) remaines with me; extracted, to a quintessence: so that, where euer it but touches, in youth it perpetually preserues, in age restores the complexion; seat's your teeth, did they dance like virginall iacks, firme as a wall; makes them white, as iuory, that were black, as— SPight o' the deuill, and my shame! come downe, here; Come downe: no house but mine to make your scene? Signior FLAMINIO, will you downe, sir? downe? What is my wife your FRANCISCINA? sir? No windores on the whole piazza, here, To make your properties, but mine? but mine? Hart! ere to morrow, I shall be new christen'd, And cald the PANTALONE di besogniosi, About the towne. What should this meane, sir POL? Some trick of state, beleeue it. I will home. It may be some designe, on you. I know not. I'le stand vpon my guard. It is your best, sir. This three weekes, all my aduises, all my letters, They haue beene intercepted. Indeed, sir? Best haue a care. Nay, so I will. This knight, I may not lose him, for my mirth, till night. O, I am wounded. Where, sir? Not without; Those blowes were nothing: I could beare them euer. But angry CVPID, bolting from her eyes, Hath shot himselfe into me, like a flame; Where, now, he flings about his burning heat, As in a fornace, an ambitious fire, Whose vent is stopt. The fight is all within me. I cannot liue, except thou helpe me, MOSCA; My liuer melts, and I, without the hope Of some soft aire, from her refreshing breath, Am but a heape of cinders.