Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1615 · first performed or written 1608 [c.1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs typicality 0.80 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
Ride? Doffed thou think I cannot ride? O yes sir, I know it: but as I conceive your journey, you would have it private; and then you were better take a Coach. These Coaches make me sick: yet 'tis no matter, let it be so. Sir, here's your sword. O well said: let me see it, I could methinks. Why Telamon, bring me another: what, thinkst thou I will wear a sword in vain? He has not strength enough to draw it, a yoke of Fleas tied to a hair would have drawn it. 'tis out sir now, the scabbard is broke. O put it up again, and on with it; methinks I am not dressed till I feel my sword on. Telamon, if any of my counsel ask for me, Say I am gone to take the air. He has not been dressed this twenty years then, If this vain hold but a week, he will learn to play o'th' base viol and sing to't: he's poetical already; For I have spied a Sonnet on's making lie by's beds side, I'll be so unmannerly to read it. he's dead, he's dead, and I am following. Ask Cupid mercy madam. O my heart! Help! stir her: o, ô. she's going, wretched women that we are: Look to her, and I'll pray the while. Why madam? Cupid pardon what is past, And forgive our sins at last, Than we will be coy no more, But thy Deity Adore, Troths at fifteen we will plight, And will tread a Dance each night, In the Fields, or by the Fire, With the youths that have desire. How does she yet? O ill: Given ear-rings we will wear, Bracelets of our lovers hair, Which they on our Arms shall twist, With their Names carved on wrist, All the Money that we owe, we in Tokens will bestow: And learn to write, that when 'tis sent, Only our Loves know what it meant: O then pardon what is past, And forgive our sins at last. What, Minds she? Nothing, you do it not want only, you should sing Leave, leave, 'tis now too late: Why She is dead: Her last is breathed. What shall we do. Go run, And tell the Duke; And whilst I'll close her eyes. Thus I shut thy faded light, And put it in eternal night. Where is she can boldly say Though she be as fresh as May: She shall not by this Corpse be laid, Ere to morrows light do fade. Let us all now living be, Warned by thy strict Chastity. And marry all fast as we can, Till then we keep a piece of man, Wrongfully from them that owe it Soon may every Maid bestow it. Who is it? Forsooth there's a gallant Coach at the door, And the brave old man in't, that you said was the Duke. Cupid grant he may be taken.
nodes 834–895 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 15 of 41 in this edition
Length
489 words · 654 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T21 — Cupid, Venus and the nymphscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.802 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T21 · seed 44: T24 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Ride? Doft thou thinke I cannot ride? O yes sir, I know it: but as I conceiue your iourney, you wou'd haue it priuate; and then you were better take a Coach. These Coaches make mee sicke: yet tis no matter, let it be so. Sir, heere's your sword. O well sed: let me see it, I could me thinkes. Why Telamon, bring me another: what, thinkst thou I will weare a sword in vaine? He has not strenghth enough to draw it, a yoake of Fleas tyde to a hayre would haue drawne it. Tis out sir now, the Scabbert is broke. O put it vp againe, and on with it; me thinks I am not drest till I feele my sword on. Telamon, if any of my counsell aske for mee, Say I am gone to take the ayre. He has not bene drest this twenty yeares then, If this vaine holde but a weeke, hee will learne to play oth base violl and sing too't: Hees poeticall alreadie; For I haue spyde a Sonnet ons making lye by's beddes side, Ile be so vnmannerly to reade it. Hees dead, hees dead, and I am following. Aske Cupid mercie Madame. O my hart! Helpe! stirre her: ô, ô. Shees going, wretched women that wee are: Looke to her, and Ile pray the while. Why Maddame? Cupid pardon what is past, And forgiue our sinnes at last, Then we will be coye no more, But thy Deitie Adore, Troths at fifteene wee will plight, And will tread a Dance each night, In the Fields, or by the Fire, With the youths that haue desire. How does shee yet? O ill: Giuen Eare-rings we will weare, Bracelets of our Louers haire, Which they on our Armes shall twist, With theyr Names caru'd on wrist, All the Money that wee owe, Wee in Tokens will bestowe: And learne to write, that when tis sent, Onely our Loues know what it meant: O then pardon what is past, And forgiue our sinnes at last. What, Minds shee? Nothing, you do it not want only, you shuld sing Leaue, leaue, tis now too late: Why Shee is dead: Her last is breathed. What shall wedoe. Goe runne, And tell the Duke; And whilst Ile close her eyes. Thus I shutte thy faded light, And put it in eternall night. Where is shee can boldly say Though shee be as fresh as May: She shall not by this Corps be laid, Ere to morrowes light doe fade. Let vs all now liuing bee, Warnd by thy strict Chastitie. And marry all fast as we can, Till then we keepe a piece of man, Wrongfully from them that owe it Soone may euery Maide bestow it. Who is it? Forsooth theres a gallant Coach at the dore, And the braue old man int, that you said was the Duke. Cupid graunt hee may be taken.