Barry, Lording · published 1611 · first performed or written 1608 [1608-1610(?)] (Annals) comedy · Children of the King's Revels unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Only this, I love her. Dost love her then, take a purgation, For love I'll assure thee is a binder: Of all things under heaven, there's no fitter parallels than a Drunkard and a Lover: for a drunkard loses his senses, so does your lover; your drunkard is quarrelsome, so is your lover: your drunkard will swear, lie, and speak great words, so will your lover: your drunkard is most desirous of his lechery, and so is your lover: Well the night grows old, farewell: I am so much thy friend, that none shall bed thee, While fair Constantia is resolved to wed thee. Foot shall we let the wench go thus, My masters now show yourselves Gentlemen And take a way the lawyers wife; Foot though I have no wit, yet I can, Love a wench and choose a wife, Why sir, what should you do with a wife, that are held none of the wisest? you'll get none but fools. How fools, why may not I a fool get a wise child as well as wise men get fools: all lies but in the agility of the woman: in troth I think all fools are got when there mothers asleep; therefore I'll never lie with my wife but when she is brawd waking, stand to't honest friends, knock down the Lieutenant and then hurry the wench to Fleetstreet, there my father and I will this morning be married. Stand close they come. By Ioue the night grows dark and Luna looks, As if this hour some fifty cuckolds were making, Then let us trudge. Down with 'em, down with them, away with her Master Smallshanks to Fleetstreet, go the Curate there stays for you. And stays the Curate. What's here knocked down, and blood of men let out, Must men in darkness bleed, than Erebus look big, And Boreas blow the fire of all my rage, Into his nose. Night thou art a whore, Small-shank a rogue: and is my wench took from me, Sure I am gulled, this was no cockatrice, I never saw her before this daylight peeped, What droppest thou head, this surely is the heir, And mad will Smallshanks lay in Ambuscado, To get her now from me, Beard: Lieutenant Beard, Thou art an asses what a dull slave was I, That all this while smelled not her honesty. Pate I do not pity thee: hadst thou brains, Lieutenant Beard had got this wealthy heir, From all these rogues, blood to be this o'erreached, In pate and wench: revenge, revenge come up, And with thy curled locks cling to my beard, Smallshanks I will betray thee: I now will trudge, To Saint John's street to inform the Lady Somerfield, Where thou art: I will prevent the match, Thou art to Fleetstreet gone, revenge shall follow, And my incensed wrath shall like great thunder, disperse thy hopes and thy brave wife asunder.
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)
Onely this, I loue her. Doo'st loue her then, take a purgation, For loue Ile assure thee is a binder: Of all things vnder heauen, there's no fitter parralells then a Drunkard and a Louer: for a drunkard looses his sences, so does your louer; your drunkard is quarrelsome, so is your louer: your drunkard will sweare, lye, and speake great words, so will your louer: your drunkard is most desirous of his letchery, and so is your louer: Well the night growes old, farewell: I am so much thy friend, that none shall bed thee, While faire Constantia is resolu'd to wed thee. Foote shall we let the wentch goe thus, My masters now show your selues Gentlemen And take a way the Lawiers wife; Foote though I haue noe wit, yet I can, Loue a wentch and choose a wife, Why sir, what should you doe with a wife, that are held none of the wisest? youle get none but fooles. How fooles, why may not I a foole get a wise child as well as wise men get fooles: all lies but in the agillity of the woman: introth I thinke all fooles are got when there mothers a sleepe; therefore Ile neuer ly with my wife but when she is brawd waking, stand to't honest friends, knocke downe the Lieftenant and then hurry the wentch to Fleetstreete, there my father and I will this morning be married. Stand close they come. By Ioue the night growes darke and Luna lookes, As if this hower some fifty cuckolds were making, Then let vs trudge. Downe with 'em, downe with them, away with her Maister Smal-shankes to Fleetestreet, goe the Curate there staies for you. And stayes the Curat. Whats here knockt downe, and blud of men let out, Must men in darkenesse bleed, then Erebus looke big, And Boreas blow the fire of all my rage, Into his nose. Night thou art a whore, Smalshanke a rogue: and is my wench tooke from me, Sure I am guld, this was no Coccatryce, I neuer saw her before this day-light peept, What dropst thou head, this surely is the heyre, And mad will Smal-shankes lay in Ambuscado, To get her now from me, Beard: Liefrenant Beard, Thou art an asses what a dull slaue was I, That all this while smelt not her honesty. Pate I doe not pitty thee: hadst thou braines, Lieftenant Beard had got this wealthy heyre, From all these rogues, bloud to be this orereachd, In pate and wench: reueng, reuenge come vp, And with thy curled locks cling to my beard, Smale-shamkes I will betray thee: I now will trudge, To Saint Iohns streete to informe the Lady Sommerfield, Where thou art: I will preuent the match, Thou art to Fleetestreet gone, reuenge shall follow, And my incensed wrath shall like great thunder, Dispersse thy hopes and thy braue wife a sunder.