Beaumont, Francis · published 1613 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.84 · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
You have caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I live I shall become your faithful prisoner, And were these chains for ever. Come sit down, And rest your body, too too delicate For these disturbances; so, will you sleep? Come, do not be more able than you are, I know you are not skilful in these watches: For women are no soldiers; be not nice, But take it, sleep I say. I cannot sleep, Indeed I cannot friend. Why then we'll sing, And try how that will work upon our senses. I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep. Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart With that enchanting voice. You mock me Iasper. Tell me (dearest) what is love? 'Tis a lightning from above, 'Tis an arrow, 'tis afire, 'Tis a boy they call desire. 'Tis a smile Doth beguile The poor hearts of men that prove. Tell me more, are women true? Some love change, and so do you. Are they fair, and never kind? Yes, when men turn with the wind. Are they froward? Ever toward, Those that love, to love anew. Dissemble it no more, I see the God Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy mace Upon your eyelids. I am very heavy. Sleep, sleep, & quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts: Keep from her fair blood, distempers, startings, Horrors, and fearful shapes: let all her dreams Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes, And such new pleasures, as the ravished soul Gives to the senses. So, my charms have took. Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind. She is only fair, and constant: only kind, And only to thee Iasper. Oh my joys! Whither will you transport me? let not fullness Of my poor buried hopes, come up together, And overcharge my spirits: I am weak Some say (however ill) the sea and women Are governed by the Moon, both ebb and flow, Both full of changes: yet to them that know, And truly judge, these but opinions are, And heresies to bring on pleasing war Between our tempers, that without these were Both void of after-love, and present fear. Which are the best of Cupid. Oh thou child! Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee, Having a love without the faults of women, And greater in her perfect goods then men: Which to make good, and please myself the stronger, Though certainly I am certain of her love, I'll try her, that the world and memory May sing to after times, her constancy. Luce, Luce, awake. Why do you fright me, friend, With those distempered looks? what makes your sword Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you? I pray Iasper sleep, thou art wild with watching. Come make your way to heaven, and bid the world (With all the villainies that stick upon it) Farewell; you're for another life. Oh Iasper! How have my tender years committed evil, (Especially against the man I love) Thus to be cropped untimely?
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)
You haue caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I liue I shall become your faithfull prisoner, And were these chaines for euer. Come sit downe, And rest your body, too too delicate For these disturbances; so, will you sleepe? Come, do not be more able then you are, I know you are not skilfull in these watches: For women are no souldiers; be not nice, But take it, sleepe I say. I cannot sleepe, Indeed I cannot friend. Why then wee'l sing, And try how that will worke vpon our sences. Il'e sing, or say, or any thing but sleepe. Come little Mer-maid, rob me of my heart With that inchanting voyce. You mocke me Iasper. Tell me (deerest) what is loue? 'Tis a lightning from aboue, 'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire, 'Tis a boy they call desire. 'Tis a smile Doth beguile The poore hearts of men that proue. Tell me more, are women true? Some loue change, and so do you. Are they faire, and neuer kind? Yes, when men turne with the winde. Are they froward? Euer toward, Those that loue, to loue a new. Dissemble it no more, I see the God Of heauy sleepe, lay on his heauy mace Vpon your eye-lids. I am very heauy. Sleep, sleep, & quiet rest crowne thy sweet thoughts: Keepe from her faire bloud, distempers, startings, Horrors, and fearefull shapes: let all her dreames Be ioyes, and chast delights, imbraces, wishes, And such new pleasures, as the rauisht soule Giues to the sences. So, my charmes haue tooke. Keepe her you powers diuine, whilst I contemplate Vpon the wealth and beauty of her minde. She is onely faire, and constant: onely kinde, And onely to thee Iasper. Oh my ioyes! Whither will you transport me? let not fulnesse Of my poore buried hopes, come vp together, And ouer-charge my spirits: I am weake Some say (how euer ill) the sea and women Are gouern'd by the Moone, both ebbe and flow, Both full of changes: yet to them that know, And truly iudge, these but opinions are, And heresies to bring on pleasing warre Betweene our tempers, that without these were Both void of ater-loue, and present feare. Which are the best of Cupid. Oh thou child! Bred from dispaire, I dare not entertaine thee, Hauing a loue without the faults of women, And greater in her perfect goods then men: Which to make good, and please my selfe the stronger, Though certainely I am certaine of her loue, Il'e try her, that the world and memory May sing to after times, her constancie. Luce, Luce, awake. Why do you fright me, friend, With those distempered lookes? what makes your sword Drawne in your hand? who hath offended you? I pre'chee Iasper sleepe, thou art wilde with watching. Come make your way to heauen, and bid the world (With all the villanies that sticke vpon it) Fare-well; you'r for another life. Oh Iasper! How haue my tender yeares committed euill, (Especially against the man I loue) Thus to be cropt vntimely?