Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1616 · first performed or written 1613 [1613-1616] (Annals) comedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 458 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
That shall not save you. O that I were in love again with a wish. By this light you are a scurvy fellow, pray be gone. You know I am a clean skinned man. Do I know it? Come, come, you would know it; that's as good: but not a snap, never long for't, not a snap dear Lady. Hark ye Sir, hark ye, get ye to the Suburbs, there's horseflesh for such hounds: will you go Sir? Lord, how I loved this woman, how I worshipped this pretty calf with the white face here: as I live, you were the prettiest fool to play withal, the wittiest little varlet, it would talk: Lord how it talked; and when I angered it, it would cry out, and scratch, and eat no meat, and yet would say, Go hang. It will say so still, if you anger it. And when I asked it, if it would be married, it sent me of an errant into France: and would abuse me, and be glad it did so. Sir, this is most unmanly, 'pray begone. And swear (even when it twittered to be at me) I was unhandsome. Have you no manners in you? And say my back was melted, when the God knows I kept it at a charge: Feure Flanders Mares would have been easier to me, and a Fencer. You think all this is true now. Faith whether it be or no, 'tis too good for you. But so much for our mirth: Now have at you in earnest. There is enough Sir, I desire no more. Yes faith, we'll have a cast at your best parts now, And then the devil take the worst. Pray Sir no more, I am not much affected with your commendations: 'tis almost dinner, I know they stay you at the Ordinary. e'en a short Grace, and then I am gone: You are a woman, and the proudest that ever loved a Coach: the scornfullest, scurviest, and most senseless woman; the greediest to be praised, and never moved, though it be gross and open; the most envious, that at the poor fame of another's face, would eat your own, and more than is your own, the paint belonging to it: of such a self opinion, that you think none can deserve your glove: and for your malice, you are so excellent, you might have been your tempter's tutor: Nay, never cry. Your own heart knows you wrong me: I cry for ye? You shall before I leave you Is all this spoke in cast? Yes, and more as soon as I can get it out. Well, out with't. You are, let me see. One that has used you with too much respect.
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)
That shall not saue you. O that I were in loue againe with a wish. By this light you are a scuruy fellowe, praye be gone. You know I am a cleane skind man. Do I know it? Come, come, you would know it; thats as good: but not a snap, neuer long for't, not a snap deae Lady. Harke ye Sir, hake ve, get ye to the Suburbs, there's horseflesh for such hounds: will you goe Sir? Lord, how I lu'd this woman, how I worshipt this pretty calfe with the white face heere: as I liue, you were the prettiest foole to play withall, the wittiest little varlet, it would talke: Lord how it talk; and when I angred it, it woul cry out, and scratch, and eate no meate, and yet would say, Goe hang. It will say so still, if you anger it. And when I askt it, if it would be married, it sent mee of an errant into France: and would abuse me, and be gladi it did so. Sir, this is most vnmanly, 'pray begone. And twe (euen when it twitterd to be a me) I was vnhasome. Haue you no manners in you? And say my backe was melted, when the gods knowes kept it at a chage: Feure Flaunders Mares would haue beene easier to me, and a Fencer. You thinke all this is true now. Faith whether it be or no, 'tis too good for you. But so much for our mirth: Now haue at you in earnest. There is enough Sir, I desire no . Yes faith, weele haue a cast at your best parts now, And en the diuell take the worst. Pray Sir o more, I am not much affected with your comdations: tis almost dinner, I know they stay you at the Ordinary. E'ne a short Grace, and then I am gone: You are a woman, and the proust that euer lou'd a Cach: the scornfullst, scurut, and most woman; the greediest to be prays'd, and neuer mou'd, though it be groe and open; the most enuious, that at the poore fme of anothers face, would eate your owne, nd more then is your owne, the pint bnging to it: of such a selfe opinion, that you thike none can deseue your gloue: and for your malie, you are so exceent, you might haue beene your Tempters tutor: Nay, cy. Your owne heat knowes you wrong me: I cry for ye? You shall before I leaue you Is all this spoke in cast? Yes, and more as so as I can get it out. Well, out with't. You are, let me see. One that has vs'd you with too much respect.