Daniel, Samuel · published 1615 · first performed or written 1614 [Feb 2] (Annals) pastoral; tragicomedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Yet shall I tell you (yet ashamed to tell;) This coy unloving soul, I saw ere while Soliciting a youth, a smooth faced boy, Whom in her arms she held (as seemed to me, Being closely bushed a pretty distance off,) Against his will; and with strange passion urged His stay, who seemed, struggled to get away, And yet she stayed him, yet entreats his stay. At which strange sight, imagine I that stood Spectator, how confoundedly I stood, And hardly could forbear from running in To claim for mine, if ever love had right, Those her embraces cast away in sight: But staying to behold the end, I stayed Too long; the boy gets loose, herself retires, And you came in; but if I live, that boy Shall dearly pay for his misfortune, that He was beloved of her, of whom I would Have none on earth beloved, but myself. That were to bite the stone, a thing unjust, To punish him for her conceived lust. Tush, many in this world we see are caught, And suffer for misfortune, not their fault. But that would not become your manliness, Montanus, it were shame for valiant men To do unworthily. Speak not of that, Silvanus, if my rage Irregular be made, it must work like effects. These are but billows, tumbling after storms, They last not long, come let some exercise Divert that humour, and convert your thoughts To know yourself; scorn her who scorneth you; Idolatrize not so that Sex, but hold A man of straw, more than a wife of gold. YOu must not, Phillis, be so sensible Of these small touches which your passion makes. Small touches Lidia, do you count the small? Can there unto a woman worse befall Then hath to me? what? have not I lost all That is most dear to us, love and my fame? Is there a third thing Lidia you can name That is so precious as to match with these? Now silly girl, how fondly do you talk? How have you lost your fame; what for a few Ill-favoured loving words, uttered in jest Unto a foolish youth? Cannot you say You did but to make trial how you could, If such a peevish qualm of passion should (As never shall) oppress your tender heart, Frame your conceit to speak, to look, to sigh Like to a heartstruck lover; and that you Perceiving him to be a bashful youth, Thought to put spirit in him, and make you sport. Ah Lidia, but he saw I did not sport, He saw my tears, and more, what shall I say? He saw too much, and that which never man Shall ever see again whilst I have breath. Are you so simple as you make yourself? What did he see? a counterfeited show Of passion, which you may, if you were wise, Make him as easily to unbelieve, As what he never saw; and think his eyes Conspired his understanding to deceive.
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)
Yet shall I tell you (yet asham'd to tell;) This coy vnlouing soule, I saw ere while Soliciting a youth, a smooth fac'd boy, Whom in her armes shee held (as seem'd to me, Being closely busht a prety distance off,) Against his will; and with strange passion vrg'd His stay, who seem'd, struggled to get away, And yet shee staid him, yet intreats his stay. At which strange sight, imagine I that stood Spectatour, how confoundedly I stood, And hardly could forbeare from running in To claime for mine, if euer loue had right, Those her imbraces cast away in sight: But staying to behold the end, I staid Too long; the boy gets loose, her selfe retyres, And you came in; but if I liue, that boy Shall dearely pay for his misfortune, that He was beloued of her, of whom I would Haue none on earth beloued, but my selfe. That were to bite the stone, a thing vniust, To punish him for her conceiued lust. Tush, many in this world we see are caught, And suffer for misforrnne, not their fault. But that would not become your manlines, Montanus, it were shame for valiant men To doe vnworthily. Speake not of that, Siluanus, if my rage Irregular be made, it must worke like effects. These are but billowes, tumbling after storms, They last not long, come let some exercise Diuert that humour, and conuert your thoughts To know your selfe; scorne her who scorneth you; Idolatrize not so that Sexe, but hold A man of strawe, more then a wife of gold. YOu must not, Phillis, be so sensible Of these small touches which your passion makes. Small touches Lidia, do you count the small? Can there vnto a woman worse befall Then hath to mee? what? haue not I lost all That is most deare to vs, loue and my fame? Is there a third thing Lidia you can name That is so precious as to match with these? Now fily girle, how fondly doe you talke? How haue you lost your fame; what for a few Ill-fauour'd louing words, vttred in ieast Vnto a foolish youth? Cannot you say You did but to make triall how you could, If such a peeuish qualme of passion should (As neuer shall) oppresse your tender heart, Frame your conceit to speake, to looke, to sigh Like to a heart-strooke louer; and that you Perceiuing him to be a bashfull youth, Thought to put spirit in him, and make you sport. Ah Lidia, but he saw I did not sport, He saw my teares, and more, what shall I say? He saw too much, and that which neuer man Shall euer see againe whil'st I haue breath. Are you so simple as you make your selfe? VVhat did he see? a counterfeited shew Of passion, which you may, if you were wise, Make him as easily to vnbeleeue, As what he neuer saw; and thinke his eyes Conspir'd his vnderstanding to deceiue.