Shakespeare, William · published 1608 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
Then leave her sir, for by the power that made me I tell you all her wealth, for you great King, I would not from your love make such a stray, To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you, To avert your liking a more worthier way, Then on a wretch whom nature is ashamed Almost to acknowledge hers. This is most strange, that she, that even but now Was your best object, the argument of your praise, Balm of your age, most best, most dearest, Should in this trice of time commit a thing, So monstrous to dismantell so many folds of favour, Sure her offence must be of such unnatural degree, That monsters it, or you for vouched affections Fallen into taint, which to believe of her Must be a saith that reason without miracle Can never plant in me. I yet beseech your Majesty, If for I want that glib and oily Art, To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend I'll do't before I speak, that you may know It is no vicious blot, murder or foulness, No unclean action or dishonoured step That hath deprived me of your grace and favour, But even for want of that, for which I am rich, A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue, As I am glad I have not, though not to have it, Hath lost me in your liking. Go to, go to, better thou hadst not been borne, Than not to have pleased me better. Is it no more but this, a tardiness in nature, That often leaves the history unspoken that it intends to do, My Lord of Burgundy, what say you to the Lady? Love is not love when it is mingled with respects that stands Aloof from the entire point will you have her? She is herself and dower. Royal Leir, give but that portion Which yourself proposed, and here I take Cordelia By the hand, Duchess of Burgundy, Nothing, I have sworn. I am sorry than you have so lost a father, That you must lose a husband. Peace be with Burgundy, since that respects Of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife. Fairest Cordelia that art most rich being poor, Most choice forsaken, and most loved despised, Thee and thy virtues here I cease upon, Be it lawful I take up what's cast away, Gods, Gods! 'tis strange, that from their couldst neglect, My love should kindle to inflamed respect, Thy dowreles daughter King thrown to thy chance, Is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: Not all the Dukes in waterish Burgundy, Shall buy this unprizd precious maid of me, Bid them farewell Cordelia, though unkind Thou losest here, a better where to find. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, For we have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again, therefore be gone, Without our grace, our love, our benison? come noble Burgundy. Bid farewell to your sisters?
seed 43: T31 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me I tell you all her wealth, for you great King, I would not from your loue make such a stray, To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you, To auert your liking a more worthier way, Then on a wretch whome nature is ashamed Almost to acknowledge hers. This is most strange, that she, that euen but now Was your best obiect, the argument of your praise, Balme of your age, most best, most deerest, Should in this trice of time commit a thing, So monstrous to dismantell so many foulds of fauour, Sure her offence must be of such vnnaturall degree, That monsters it, or you for voucht affections Falne into taint, which to beleeue of her Must be a saith that reason without miracle Could neuer plant in me. I yet beseech your Maiestie, If for I want that glib and oyly Art, To speake and purpose not, since what I well entend Ile do't before I speake, that you may know It is no vicious blot, murder or foulnes, No vncleane action or dishonord step That hath depriu'd me of your grace and fauour, But euen for want of that, for which I am rich, A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue, As I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it, Hath lost me in your liking. Goe to, goe to, better thou hadst not bin borne, Then not to haue pleas'd me better. Is it no more but this, a tardines in nature, That often leaues the historie vnspoke that it intends to do, My Lord of Burgundie, what say you to the Lady? Loue is not loue when it is mingled with respects that stāds Aloofe from the intire point wil you haue her? She is her selfe and dowre. Royall Leir, giue but that portion Which your selfe proposd, and here I take Cordelia By the hand, Dutches of Burgundie, Nothing, I haue sworne. I am sory then you haue so lost a father, That you must loose a husband. Peace be with Burgundie, since that respects Of fortune are his loue, I shall not be his wife. Fairest Cordelia that art most rich being poore, Most choise forsaken, and most loued despisd, Thee and thy vertues here I ceaze vpon, Be it lawfull I take vp whats cast away, Gods, Gods! tis strāge, that from their couldst neglect, My loue should kindle to inflam'd respect, Thy dowreles daughter King throwne to thy chance, Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France: Not all the Dukes in watrish Burgundie, Shall buy this vnprizd precious maide of me, Bid them farewell Cordelia, though vnkind Thou loosest here, a better where to find. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, For we haue no such daughter, nor shall euer see That face of hers againe, therfore be gone, Without our grace, our loue, our benizon? come noble Burgūdy. Bid farewell to your sisters?