Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.76 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Love, love, nothing but love, still more: For O love's Bow, Shoots Buck and Do: The Shaft confounds not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore: These Lover's cry, oh ho they die; Yet that which seems the wound to kill, Doth turn oh ho, to ha' ha' he: So dying love lives still, O ho a while, but ha' ha' ha', O ho groans out for ha' ha' ha'— hay ho. In love i'faith to the very tip of the nose. He eats nothing but doves love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love. Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds, why they are Vipers, is Love a generation of Vipers? Sweet Lord whose a field to day? Hector, Deiphoebus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would fain have armed to day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not? He hangs the lip at something; you know all Lord Pandarus? Not I honey sweet Queen: I long to hear how they sped to day: You'll remember your brother's excuse? To a hair. Farewell sweet Queen. Commend me to your Niece. I will sweet Queen. They're come from field: let us to Priam's Hall To greet the Warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woe you, To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn Buckles, With these your white enchanting fingers touched, Shall more obey then to the edge of Steel, Or force of Greekish sinews: you shall do more Than all the Island Kings, disarm great Hector. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant Paris: Yea what he shall receive of us in duty, Gives us more palm in beauty than we have: Yea overshines ourself. Sweet above thought I love thee. How now, where's thy Master, at my Cousin Cressidas? No sir, he stays for you to conduct him thither. O here he comes: How now, how now? Sirrah walk off. Have you seen my Cousin? No Pandarus: I stalk about her door Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields, Where I may wallow in the Lily bed's Proposed for the deserver. O gentle Pandarus, From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, And fly with me to Cressida. Walk here i'th' Orchard, I'll bring her strait. I am giddy; expectation whirls me round, Th' imaginary relish is so sweet, That it enchants my sense: what will it be When that the watery palates taste indeed love's thrice reputed Nectar? Death I fear me Sounding destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle, potent, and too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers; I fear it much, and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys, As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying.
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)
Loue, loue, nothing but loue, ſtill more: For O loues Bow, Shootes Bucke and Doe: The Shaft confounds not that it wounds, But tickles ſtill the ſore: Theſe Louers cry, oh ho they dye; Yet that which ſeemes the wound to kill, Doth turne oh ho, to ha ha he: So dying loue liues ſtill, O ho a while, but ha ha ha, O ho grones out for ha ha ha—hey ho. In loue yfaith to the very tip of the noſe. He eates nothing but doues loue, and that breeds hot bloud, and hot bloud begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deedes, and hot deedes is loue. Is this the generation of loue? Hot bloud, hot thoughts, and hot deedes, why they are Vipers, is Loue a generation of Vipers? Sweete Lord whoſe a field to day? Hector, Deiphoebus, Helenus, Anthenor, and all the gallantry of Troy. I would faine haue arm'd to day, but my Nell would not haue it ſo. How chance my brother Troylus went not? He hangs the lippe at ſomething; you know all Lord Pandarus? Not I hony ſweete Queene: I long to heare how they ſped to day: Youle remember your brothers excuſe? To a hayre. Farewell ſweete Queene. Commend me to your Neece. I will ſweete Queene. They're come from fielde: let vs to Priams Hall To greete the Warriors. Sweet Hellen, I muſt woe you, To helpe vnarme our Hector: his ſtubborne Buckles, With theſe your white enchanting fingers toucht, Shall more obey then to the edge of Steele, Or force of Greekiſh ſinewes: you ſhall doe more Then all the Iland Kings, diſarme great Hector. 'Twill make vs proud to be his ſeruant Paris: Yea what he ſhall receiue of vs in duetie, Giues vs more palme in beautie then we haue: Yea ouerſhines our ſelfe. Sweete aboue thought I loue thee. How now, where's thy Maiſter, at my Couzen Creſsidas? No ſir, he ſtayes for you to conduct him thither. O here he comes: How now, how now? Sirra walke off. Haue you ſeene my Couſin? No Pandarus: I ſtalke about her doore Like a ſtrange ſoule vpon the Stigian bankes Staying for waftage. O be thou my Charon, And giue me ſwift tranſportance to thoſe fields, Where I may wallow in the Lilly beds Propos'd for the deſeruer. O gentle Pandarus, From Cupids ſhoulder plucke his painted wings, And flye with me to Creſsid. Walke here ith' Orchard, Ile bring her ſtraight. I am giddy; expectation whirles me round, Th' imaginary reliſh is ſo ſweete, That it inchants my ſence: what will it be When that the watry pallats taſte indeede Loues thrice reputed Nectar? Death I feare me Sounding diſtruction, or ſome ioy too fine, Too ſubtile, potent, and too ſharpe in ſweetneſſe, For the capacitie of my ruder powers; I feare it much, and I doe feare beſides, That I ſhall looſe diſtinction in my ioyes, As doth a battaile, when they charge on heapes The enemy flying.