Marston, John / Machin, Lewis / Barkstead, William · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1607-1608; revised 1609-1613] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels (?); Children of the King's Revels (?) · Whitefriars T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.86 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Love me, or else by Ioue death's but delayed: My vow is fixed in heaven, fear shall not move me, My life is death with tortures 'less you love me. Give me some respite, and I will resolve you. My heart denies it. My blood is violent, now or else never, Love me, and like loves Queen I'll fall before thee, Enticing dalliance from thee with my smiles, And steal thy heart with my delicious kisses. I'll study Art in love, that in a rupture Thy soul shall taste pleasures excelling nature. Love me, both Art and nature in large recompense, Shall be profuse in ravishing thy sense. You have prevailed, I am yours from all the world, Thy wit and beauty have entranced my soul: I long for dalliance, my blood burns like fire, hell's pain on earth is to delay desire. I kiss thee for that breath, this day you hunt; In midst of all your sports leave you Rogero, Return to me whose life rests in thy sight, Where pleasure shall make Nectar our delight. I condescend to what thy will implores me; He that but now neglected thee, adores thee: But see here comes my friend, fear makes him tremble. Women are witless that cannot dissemble: Now I am sick again: where's my Lord Rogero? His love and my health's vanished both together. Wrong not thy friend, dear friend, in thy extremes, Here's a profound Hipocrates, my dear, To minister to thee the spirit of health. Your sight to me, my Lord, excels all Physic; I am better far (my Love) then when you left me: Your friend was comfortable to me at the last. 'Twas but a fit, my Lord, and now 'tis past. Are all things ready sir? Yes madam, the house is fit. Desire in women is the life of wit. O partner, I am with child of laughter, and none but you can be my Midwife: was there ever such a game at Noddy? Our Husbands think they are foremen of the jury, they hold the Heretic point of Predestination, and sure they are borne to be hanged. They are like to prove men of judgement, but not for killing of him that's yet alive, and well recovered. As soon as my man saw the Watch come up, All his spirit was down. But though they have made us good sport in speech, They did hinder us of good sport in action. O wench, imagination is strong in pleasure. That's true: for the opinion my Goodman had of enjoying you, made him do wonders. Why should weak man, that is so soon satisfied, desire variety? Their answer is, to feed on Pheasants continually would breed a loathing. Then if we seek for strange flesh that have stomachs at will, 'tis pardonable. ay, if men had any feeling of it, but they judge us by themselves.
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 me, or else by Ioue death's but delaid: My vow is fixt in heauen, feare shall not moue me, My life is death vvith tortures 'lesse you loue me. Giue me some respite, and I will resolue you. My heart denies it. My bloud is violent, now or else neuer, Loue me, and like loues Queene Ile fall before thee, Inticing daliance from thee vvith my smiles, And steale thy heart vvith my delicious kisses. Ile study Art in loue, that in a rupture Thy soule shall taste pleasures excelling nature. Loue me, both Art and nature in large recompence, Shall be profuse in rauishing thy sense. You haue preuail'd, I am yours from all the world, Thy wit and beauty haue entranc'd my soule: I long for daliance, my bloud burnes like fire, Hels paine on earth is to delay desire. I kisse thee for that breath, this day you hunt; In midst of all your sports leaue you Rogero, Returne to me whose life rests in thy sight, Where pleasure shall make Nectar our delight. I condescend to what thy vvill implores me; He that but now neglected thee, adores thee: But see here comes my friend, feare makes him tremble. Women are witles that cannot dissemble: Now I am sicke againe: where's my Lord Rogero? His loue and my health's vanish'd both together. Wrong not thy friend, deare friend, in thy extreames, Here's a profound Hipocrates, my deare, To minister to thee the spirit of health. Your sight to me, my Lord, excels all Phisicke; I am better farre (my Loue) then when you left me: Your friend was comfortable to me at the last. 'Twas but a fit, my Lord, and now 'tis past. Are all things ready sir? Yes Madame, the house is fit. Desire in women is the life of wit. O partner, I am with childe of laughter, and none but you can be my Mid-wife: was there euer such a game at Noddy? Our Husbands thinke they are fore-men of the Iurie, they hold the Hereticke point of Predestination, and sure they are borne to be hanged. They are like to proue men of iudgement, but not for killing of him that's yet aliue, and well recouered. As soone as my man saw the Watch come vp, All his spirit was downe. But though they haue made vs good sport in speech, They did hinder vs of good sport in action. O wench, imagination is strong in pleasure. That's true: for the opinion my Good-man had of enioying you, made him doe wonders. Why shold weake man, that is so soone satisfied, desire variety? Their answere is, to feede on Phesants continually would breede a loathing. Then if vve seeke for strange flesh that haue stomackes at will, 'tis pardonable. I, if men had any feeling of it, but they iudge vs by themselues.