Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1619 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.77 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Receive me then. I dare not stay, thy language, In midst of all my anger, and my grief, Thou dost awake some thing that troubles me, And says I loved thee once, I dare not stay, There is no end of woman's reasoning. Amintor thou shalt love me now again, Go I am calm, farewell, And peace for ever. Euadne whom thou hat'st will die for thee. I have a little human nature yet That's lest for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. Thy hand was welcome but it came too late, Oh I am lost the heavy sleep makes haste. Oh oh oh. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feel A stark affrighted motion in my blood, My soul grows weary of her house, and I All over am a trouble to myself, There is some hidden power in these dead things That calls myself unto'em, I am cold, Be resolute, and bear'em company, There's something yet which I am loath to leave, There's man enough in me to meet the fears That death can bring, and yet would it were done, I can find nothing in the whole discourse Of death I durst not meet the boldest way, Yet still betwixt the reason and the act The wrong I to Aspasia did stands up, I have not such another fault to answer, Though she may justly arm herself with scorn And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow, I will not leave this act unsatisfied, If all that's left in me can answer it. Was it a dream? There stands Amintor still, Or I dream still. How dost thou? speak, receive my love & help: Thy blood climbs up to his old place again, There's hope of thy recovery. Did you not name Aspasia? I did. And talked of tears and sorrow unto her. 'tis true, and till these happy signs in thee Stayed my course, it was thither I was going. Thou art there already, and these wounds are hers: Those threats I brought with me, sought not revenge, But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand. I am Aspasia yet. Dare my soul ever look abroad again? I shall sure live Amintor, I am well, A kind of healthful joy wanders within me. The world wants lines to excuse thy loss, Come let me bear thee to some place of help. Amintor thou must stay, I must rest here, My strength begins to disobey my will. How dost thou my best soul? I would fain live, Now if I could, wouldst thou have loved me then? Alas, all that I ams not worth a hair From thee. Give me thine hand, mine eyes grow up & down, And cannot find thee, I am wondrous sick. Have I thy hand, Amintor? Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast. I do believe thee better than my sense, Oh I must go, farewell.
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)
Receiue me then. I dare not stay, thy language, In midst of all my anger, and my griefe, Thou doest awake some thing that troubles me, And saies I lou'd thee once, I dare not stay, There is no end of womans reasoning. Amintor thou shalt loue me now againe, Go I am calme, farwell, And peace for euer. Euadne whom thou hatst will die for thee. I haue a little humane nature yet Thats lest for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. Thy hand was welcome but it came too late, Oh I am lost the heauie sleepe makes hast. Oh oh oh. This earth of mine doth tremble, and I feele A tarke affrighted motion in my bloud, My soule growes weary of her house, and I All ouer am a trouble to my selfe, There is some hidden power in these dead things That calls myselfe vnto'em, I am cold, Be resolute, and beare'em company, Theres something yet which I am loath to leaue, Theres man enough in me to meete the feares That death can bring, and yet would it were done, I can finde nothing in the whole discourse Of death I durst not meete the bouldest way, Yet still betwixt the reason and the act The wrong I to Aspatia did stands vp, I haue not such another fault to answer, Though she may iustly arme her selfe with scorne And hate of me, my soule will part lesse troubled, When I haue paid to her in teares my sorrow, I will not leaue this act vnsatisfied, If all thats left in me can answer it. Was it a dreame? There stands Amintor still, Or I dreame still. How doest thou? speake, receiue my loue & helpe: Thy bloud climbes vp to his old place againe, Theres hope of thy recouerie. Did you not name Apatia? I did. And talkt of teares and sorrow vnto her. Tis true, and till these happie signes in thee Staid my course, it was thither I was going. Thou art there already, and these wounds are her: Those threats I brought with me, sought not reuenge, But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand. I am Aspatia yet. Dare my soule euer looke abroad agen? I shall sure liue Amintor, I am well, A kinde of healthfull ioy wanders within me. The world wants lines to excuse thy losse, Come let me beare thee to some place of helpe. Amintor thou must stay, I must rest here, My strength begins to disobey my will. How dost thou my best soule? I would faine liue, Now if I could, wouldst thou haue loued me then? Alas, all that I ams not worth a haire From thee. Giue me thine hand, mine eyes grow vp & downe, And cannot finde thee, I am wondrous sicke. Haue I thy hand, Amintor? Thou greatest blessing of the world, thou hast. I doe beleeue thee better then my sense, Oh I must goe, farewell.