Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1619 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Euadne we'll watch, I mean no sleeping. I'll not go to bed. I prithee do. I will not for the world. Why my dear love. Why? I have sworn I will not. Sworn! I? How? Sworn Euadne. Yes, sworn Amintor, and will swear again. If you will wish to hear me. To whom have you sworn this. If I should name him the matter were not great. Come, this is but the coyness of a bride. The coyness of a bride. How prettily that frown becomes thee. Do you like it so. Thou canst not dress thy face in such a look, But I shall like it. What look will like you best. Why do you ask. That I may show you one less pleasing to you, how's that. That I may show you one less pleasing to you. I prithee put thy jests in milder looks, It shows as thou wert angry. So perhaps I am indeed. Why, who has done thee wrong, Name me the man, and by thyself sweet love, Thy yet unconquered self, I will revenge it. Now I shall try thy truth, if thou dost love me. Thou weigh'st not any thing compared to me, Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights The world can yield, are light as air To a true lover when his Lady frowns, And bids him do this, wilt thou kill this man, Swear my Amintor, and i'll kiss the sun Of thy lips. I wonot swear sweet love, till I know the cause. I wood thou wouldst, Why, it is thou that wrong'st me, I hate thee, Thou shouldst have killed thyself. If I should know that, I should quickly kill The man you hated. Know it, and do't. Oh no, what look soe'er thou shouldst put on, To try my faith, I cannot think thee false, I cannot find one blemish in thy face Where falsehood should abide, leave, and to bed, If you have sworn to any of the virgins That were your old companions to preserve Your maidenhead a night, it may be done Without this means. A maidenhead Amintor at my years. Sure she raves, this cannot be, Her natural temper, shall I call thy maids, Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long, Or else some fever rages in thy blood. Neither of these, what think you I am mad, Because I speak the truth. Is this the truth, will you not lie with me tonight. You talk as if you thought I would hereafter. Hereafter, yes I do. You are deceived, put off amazement & with patience mark, What I shall utter, for the Oracle Knows nothing truer 'tis not for a night Or two that I forbear your bed, but ever. I dream,— awake Amintor. You hear right, I sooner would find out the beds of Snakes, And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh, Letting them curl themselves about my limbs, then sleep one night with thee; this is not feigned, Nor sounds it like the kisses of a bride.
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)
Euadne weele watch, I meane no sleeping. Ile not goe to bed. I prethee doe. I will not for the world. Why my deere loue. Why? I haue sworne I will not. Sworne! I? How? Sworne Euadne. Yes, sworne Amintor, and will sweare againe. If you will wish to heare me. To whom haue you sworne this. If I should name him the matter were not great. Come, this is but the coynesse of a bride. The coynesse of a bride. How pretilie that frowne becomes thee. Doe you like it so. Thou canst not dresse thy face in such a looke, But I shall like it. What looke will like you best. Why doe you aske. That I may shew you one lesse pleasing to you, Howes that. That I may shew you one lesse pleasing to you. I prethee put thy lests in milder lookes, It shewes as thou wert angry. So perhaps I am indeede. Why, who has done thee wrong, Name me the man, and by thy selfe sweete loue, Thy yet vnconquered selfe, I will reuenge it. Now I shall trie thy truth, if thou doest loue me. Thou waighst not any thing compar'd to me, Life, honor, ioyes eternall, all delights The world can yeeld, are light as aire To a true louer when his Lady frownes, And bids him doe this, wilt thou kill this man, Sweare my Amintor, and ile kisse the sun Of thy lips. I wonnot swear sweet loue, till I know the cause. I wood thou wouldst, Why, it is thou that wrongst me, I hate thee, Thou should'st haue kild thy selfe. If I should know that, I should quickly kill The man you hated. Know it, and doo't. Oh no, what looke so ere thou should'st put on, To trie my faith, I cannot thinke thee false, I cannot finde one blemish in thy face Where falsehood should abide, leaue, and to bed, If you haue sworne to any of the virgins That were your olde companios to preserue Your maidenhead a night, it may be done Without this meanes. A maidenhead Amintor at my yeares. Sure she raues, this cannot be, Her naturall temper, shall I call thy maides, Either thy healthfull fleepe hath left thee long, Or else some feauer rages in thy blood. Neither of these, what thinke you I am mad, Because I speake the truth. Is this the truth, wil you not lie with me to night. You talke as if you thought I would hereafter. Hereafter, yes I doe. You are deceiu'd, put off amazement & with patience mark, What I shall vtter, for the Oracle Knowes nothing truer tis not for a night Or two that I forbeare your bed, but euer. I dreame,—awake Amintor. You heare right, I sooner would finde out the beds of Snakes, And with my youthfull blood warme their cold flesh, Letting them curle themselues about my limbes, then sleepe one night with thee; this is not faind, Nor sounds it like the kisses of a bride.