Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1615 · first performed or written 1608 [c.1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
Here was no handsome man. Come, he's some one You would preserve in private, but you want Cunning to do it, and my eyes are sharper Than yours, and can with one neglecting glance, See all the graces of a man. Who was't? That went hence now? That went hence now: I he. Faith here was no such one as your Grace thinks, Zoilus your Brother's Dwarf went out but now. I think 'twas he: how bravely he passed by: Is he not grown a goodly Gentleman? A goodly Gentleman madam? He is the most deformed fellow i'the Land. O blasphemy! he may perhaps to thee Appear deformed, for he is indeed Unlike a man: his shape and colours are Beyond the Art of Painting; he is like Nothing that we have seen, yet doth resemble Apollo, as I oft have fancied him, When rising from his bed he stirs himself, And shakes day from his hair. He resembles Apollo's Recorder. Cleophila, go send a page for him, And thou shalt see thy error, and repent. Alas what do I feel, my blood rebels, And I am one of those I used to scorn, My maiden-thoughts are fled against myself, I harbour Traitors in my Virginity, That from my childhood kept me company, Is heavier than I can endure to bear: Forgive me Cupid, for thou art a god, And I a wretched creature; I have sinned, But be thou merciful, and grant that yet I may enjoy what thou wilt have me, Love. Zoilus is here madam. he's there indeed. Now be thine own judge; see thou worse than mad, Is he deformed? look upon those eyes, That let all pleasure out into the world, Unhappy that they cannot see themselves. Look on his hair, that like so many beams, Streaking the East, shore light over halfe the world. Look on him all together, who is made As if two Natures had contention About their skill, and one had brought forth him. Ha, ha, ha: madam, though Nature Hath not given me so much As others in my outward show; I bear a heart as loyal unto you In this unsightly body (which you please To make your mirth) as many others do That are far more be friended in their births: Yet I could wish myself much more deformed Than yet I am, so I might make your Grace More merry than you are, ha, ha, ha. Beshrew me then if I be merry; But I am content whilst thou art with me: Thou that art my Saint, By hope of whose mild favour I do live To tell thee so: I pray thee scorn me not; Alas, what can it add unto thy worth To triumph over me, that am a Maid? Without deceit, whose heart does guide her tongue, Drowned in my passions, yet I will take leave. To call it reason that I door on thee.
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)
Here was no hansome man. Come, hee's some one You would preserue in priuate, but you want Cunning to doe it, and my eyes are sharper Then yours, and can with one neglecting glaunce, See all the graces of a man. Who was't? That went hence now? That went hence now: I he. Faith here was no such one as your Grace thinks, Zoylus your Brothers Dwarfe went out but now. I thinke twas he: how brauely he past by: Is he not growne a goodly Gentleman? A goodly Gentleman Madame? He is the most deformed fellow i'the Land. O blasphemy! he may perhaps to thee Appeare deform'd, for he is indeed Vnlike a man: his shape and colours are Beyond the Art of Painting; he is like Nothing that we haue seene, yet doth resemble Apollo, as I oft haue fancied him, When rising from his bedde he sturres himselfe, And shakes day from his hayre. He resembles Apollos Recorder. Cleophila, goe send a page for him, And thou shalt see thy error, and repent. Alas what doe I feele, my blood rebells, And I am one of those I vs'd to scorne, My mayden-thoughts are fledde against my selfe, I harbour Traytors in my Virginitie, That from my child-hood kept me company, Is heauier then I can endure to beare: Forgiue me Cupid, for thou art a god, And I a wretched creature; I haue sinn'd, But be thou mercifull, and graunt that yet I may enioy what thou wilt haue me, Loue. Zoylus is heere Madame. Hee's there indeed. Now be thine owne Iudge; see thou worse then mad, Is he deformed? looke vpon those eyes, That let all pleasure out into the world, Vnhappy that they cannot see themselues. Looke on his hayre, that like so many beames, Streaking the East, shoore light ore halfe the world. Looke on him all together, who is made As if two Natures had contention About their skill, and one had brought foorth him. Ha, ha, ha: Madame, though Nature Hath not giuen mee so much As others in my outward shew; I beare a heart as loyall vnto you In this vnsightly body (which you please To make your myrth) as many others doe That are farre more be friended in their births: Yet I could wish my selfe much more deformed Then yet I am, so I might make your Grace More merry then you are, ha, ha, ha. Beshrew me then if I be merry; But I am content whilst thou art with me: Thou that art my Saint, By hope of whose milde fauour I doe liue To tell thee so: I pray thee scorne me not; Alas, what can it adde vnto thy worth To tryumph ouer me, that am a Mayd? Without deceit, whose heart does guide her tongue, Drownd in my passions, yet I will take leaue. To call it reason that I dore on thee.