Jonson, Ben · published 1609 · first performed or written 1597 [1597-1598; interpolations later] (Annals) comedy · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Why, has he not done it? Done it, not a verse by this hand. O in dichus illis, O preposterous, well come be blithe, the best judge of them al is sometimes dull, fellow Onion pardon mine juggle: he is a man, has imperfections and declinations, as other men have, his mass sometimes cannot carnet nor prognosticate and come of, as it should, no matter, I'll hammer our a paraphrase for thee myself. No sweet juniper, no danger doth breed delay, love makes me choleric I can bear no longer. Not bear? what my mad Meridian slave? not be are? what? Cupid's burden: 'tis to heavy, to tolerable, and as for the handkerchief and the posy: I will not trouble thee: but if thou wilt go with me into her father's backside, old Iaques backside, and speak for me to Rachel, I will not being ratitude, the old man is abroad and all. Art thou sure on't. As sure as an obligation. Let's away then, come we spend time in a vain circumference, trade I cashier thee till tomorrow, fellow Onion for thy sake I finish this workaday. God a mercy, and for thy sake I'll at any time make a holiday. Nay I prithee Rachel, I come to comfort thee, Be not so sad. O signor Angelo, No comfort but his presence can remove, This sadness from my heart. Nay then you're fond, And want that strength of judgement and election, That should be attendent on your years and form, Will you, because your Lord is taken prisoner, Blubber and weep and keep a peevish stir, As though you would turn turtle with the news, Come, come, be wise. 'sblood say your Lord should die: And you go mar your face as you begin, What would you do trow? who would care for you; But this it is, when nature will bestow Her gifts on such as know not how to use them, You shall have some that had they but one quarter Of your fair beauty? they would make it show A little otherwise than you do this, Or they would see the painter twice an hour, And I commend them I, that can use art, With such judicial practice. You talk idly, If this be your best comfort keep it still, My senses cannot feed on such sour cates. And why sweet heart. Nay leave good signor. Come I have sweeter viands yet in store. I in any case mistress Rachel. Rachel? God's pity signor Angelo, I hear my father, away for God's sake. 'sblood, I am betwixt, I think, this is twice now, I have been served thus. Pray God he meet him not. O brave? she's yonder, O terrible she's gone. Yea? so nimble in your dilemmas, and your hyperboles Hay my love? O my love, at the first sight: By the mass. O how she scudded, O sweet scud, how she tripped, O delicate trip and go.
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)
Why, has he not done it? Done it, not a verſe by this hand. O in dichus illis, O prepoſterous, wel come be blith, the eſt iud of the l is ſomtimes dul, fellow Onion pardon mine Iugle: he is a man, has in pefections and declinations, as other men haue, his maſſe ſomtimes cannot carnet nor progniſticat and come of, as it ſhould, no matter, Ile hammer our a paralraſe for thee my ſelfe. No ſweet Iuniper, no danger breed delay, loue makes me chollericke I can beare no longer. Not beare? what my mad Meridian ſlaue? not be are? what? Cupids burden: tis to heauy, to tollerable, and as for the handkerchire and the poſie: I will not trouble thee: but if thou wilt goe with me into her fathers backſide, old Iaques backſide, and ſpeake for me to Rachel, I wil not being ratitude, the old man is abroad and all. Art thou ſure on't. As ſure as an obligation. Lets away then, come we ſpend time in a vaine circumference, trade caſhire thee til to morrow, fellow Onion for thy ſake I fini this workiday. God a mercy, and for thy ſake Ile at any time make a holiday. Nay I prithee Rachel, I come to comfort thee, Be not ſo ſad. O ſignior Angelo, No comfort but his preſence can remoue, This ſadneſſe from my heart. Nay then y'are fond, And want that ſtrength of iudgement and election, That ſhould be attendent on your yeares and forme, Will you, becauſe your Lord is taken priſoner, Blubber and weepe and keepe a peeuiſh ſtirre, As though you would turne turtle with the newes, Come, come, be wiſe. Sblood ſay your Lord ſhould die: And you goe marre your face as you begin, What would you doe trow? who would care for you; But this it is, when nature will beſtow Her gifts on ſuch as know not how to vſe them, You ſhall haue ſome that had they but one quarter Of your faire beauty? they would make it ſhew A little otherwiſe then you do this, Or they would ſee the painter twice an hower, And I commend them I, that can vſe art, With ſuch iudiciall practiſe. You talke iedly, If this be your beſt comfort keepe it ſtill, My ſences cannot feede on ſuch ſower cates. And why ſweet heart. Nay leaue good ſignior. Come I haue ſweeter vyands yet in ſtore. I in any caſe miſtres Rachel. Rachel? Gods pitty ſignior Angelo, I here my father, away for Gods ſake. S'bloud, I am betwixt, I thinke, this is twice now, I haue been ſerued thus. Pray God he meet him not. O braue? ſhe's yonder, O terrible ſhee's gone. Yea? ſo nimble in your Dilemma's, and your Hiperbole's Hay my loue? O my loue, at the firſt ſight: By the maſſe. O how ſhe ſkudded, O ſweet ſcud, how ſhe tripped, O delicate trip and goe.