The Atheist's Tragedy, or The Honest Man's Revenge · chunk 13 of 41
Tourneur, Cyril · published 1611 · first performed or written 1611 [1607-1611] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
And melancholic too, methinks. How can she choose? your sickness will Distaste th'expected sweetness o'the night. That makes her heavy. That should make her light. Look you to that. What sweetness speak you of? The sweetness of the night consists in rest. With that sweetness thou shalt be surely blessed, Unless my groaning wake thee. Do not moan. she'd rather you would wake, and make her groan. Nay 'troth sweet heart, I will not trouble thee. Thou shalt not lose thy maidenhead too night. O might that weakness ever be in force; I never would desire to sue divorce! Wilt go to bed. I will attend you, Sir. Mother, good night. Pleasure be your bedfellow. Why sure their Generation was asleep, When she begot those Dormice; that she made Them up so weakly and imperfectly. One wants desire; the other ability. When my affection even with their cold bloods (As snow rubbed through an active hand, does make The flesh to burn) by agitation is Inflamed. I could unbrace, and entertain The air to cool it. That but mitigates The heat; rather embrace and entertain A younger brother; he can quench the fire. Can you so, sir? now I beshrew your ear. Why bold Sebastian, how dare you approach So near the presence of your displeased Father. Under the protection of his present absence. Belike you knew he was abroad then. Yes. Let me encounter you so; I'll persuade Your means to reconcile me to his love. Is that the way? I understand you not. But for your reconcilement, meet m'at home; I'll satisfy your suit Within this half hour? Or within this whole hour. When you will.— A lusty blood! has both the presence and the spirit of a man. I like the freedom of his behaviour.— Ho— Sebastian! Gone?— Has set my blood a-boiling i'my veins And now (like water poured upon the ground, that mixes itself with every moisture it meets) I could clasp with any man. O Fresco! Art thou come? If other fail, than thou art entertained. Lust is a Spirit, which whosoever doth raise; The next man that encounters boldly, lays. Such stones men use to raise a house upon; But with these stones I go to ruin one. Passion o'me you drunken knaves: you'll put the lights out. No my Lord; theyare but in jest. Mine's out. Then light it at his head, that's light enough.— fore-god, theyare out. You drunken Rascals back and light'em. 'tis exceeding dark. No matter. I am acquainted with the way. Your hand. Let's easily walk. I'll lead you till they come. My soul's oppressed with grief. t'lies heavy at my heart, O my departed Son! ere long I shall be with thee Marry God forbid. O, o, o. Now all the host of heaven forbid. knaves, Rogues. Pray God he be not hurt! her's fallen into the gravel pit.
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)
And melancholique too, me thinkes. How can shee choose? your sicknesse will Distaste th'expected sweetnesse o'the night. That makes her heauie. That should make her light. Looke you to that. What sweetnesse speake you of? The sweetnesse of the night consists in rest. With that sweetnesse thou shalt be surely blest, Vnlesse my groning wake thee. Doe not moane. Sh'ad rather you would wake, and make her grone. Nay'troth sweete heart, I will not trouble thee. Thou shalt not lose thy maiden-head too night. O might that weakenesse euer be in force; I neuer would desire to sue diuorce! Wilt goe to bed. I will attend you, Sir. Mother, good night. Pleasure be your bed-fellow. Why sure their Generation was asleepe, When shee begot those Dormice; that shee made Them vp so weakely and imperfectly. One wants desire; the tother habilitie. When my affection euen with their cold blouds (As snow rub'd through an actiue hand, does make The flesh to burne) by agitation is Inflam'd. I could vnbrace, and entertaine The ayre to coole it. That but mitigates The heate; rather imbrace and entertaine A younger brother; he can quench the fire. Can you so, sir? now I beshrew your eare. Why bold Sebastian, how dare you approach So neare the presence of your displeas'd Father. Vnder the protection of his present absence. Belike you knew he was abroad then. Yes. Let me encounter you so; Ile perswade Your meanes to reconcile me to his loue. Is that the way? I vnderstand you not. But for your reconcilement, meete m'at home; Ile satisfie your suite Within this halfe houre? Or within this whole houre. When you will.— A lusty bloud! has both the presence and the spirit of a man. I like the freedome of his behauiour.—Ho—Sebastian! Gone?—Has set my bloud o'boyling i'my veynes And now (like water pour'd vpon the ground, that mixes it selfe with eu'ry moysture it meetes) I could claspe with any man. O Fresco! Art thou come? If tother faile, then thou art entertaind. Lust is a Spirit, which whosoe'er doth raise; The next man that encounters boldly, layes. Such stones men vse to raise a house vpon; But with these stones I goe to ruine one. Passion o'me you drunken knaues: you'l put the lights out. No my Lord; th'are but in ieast. Mine's out. Then light it at his head, that's light enough.— Foregod, th'are out. You drunken Rascals backe and light'em. T'is exceeding darke. No matter. I am acquainted with the way. Your hand. Let's easily walke. Ile lead you till they come. My soule's opprest with griefe T'lies heauie at my heart, O my departed Sonne! ere long I shall be with Marry God forbid. O, o, o. Now all the hoste of heauen forbid. Knaues, Rogues. Pray God hee be not hurt! her's falne into the grauell pit.