Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding · chunk 13 of 40
Beaumont, Francis / Fletcher, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1609 [May(?)] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Where's the boy? Within. Gave you him gold to buy him clothes? I did. And has he done't? Yes Madam. 'tis a pretty sad talking boy, is't not, asked you his name? No madam. O, you are welcome, what good news? As good as any one can tell your grace, that says, she has done that you would have wished. Hast thou discovered? I have strained a point of modesty for you. I prithee how? In listening after bawdry: I see, let a Lady live never so modestly, they shall be sure to find a lawful time, to hearken after bawdry, your Prince brave Pharamont was so hot on't. With whom? Why with the Lady I suspected, I can tell the time and place. O when and where? tonight, his lodging. Run thyself into the presents: mingle there again with other Ladies, leave the rest to me, if destiny to whom we dare not say, why thou didst this, have not decreed it so, in lasting leaves: whose smallest characters was never altered, yet this match shall break: where's the boy. Here madam. Sir, your sad to change your service, is't not so? madam, I have not changed, I wait on you to do him service. Then trust in me, tell me thy name. Bellario. Thou canst sing and play. If grief will give me leave madam, I can. Alas, what kind of grief can thy years know, Hadst thou a cross schoolmaster when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of other grief, Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as water be, When no breath troubles them: believe me boy, Care seeks wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, And builds itself caves to abide in them, Come sir, tell me truly, doth your Lord love me? I know not madam, what it is. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knewst love, Thou art deceived boy, does he speak of me, As if he wished me well? If it be love to forget all respect to his own friends, with thinking of your face: if it be love to sit cross armed, and think away the day, with mingling starts, and crying your name as loud as men in streets do fire: if it be love to weep himself away, when he but hears of any woman dead or killed, because it might have been your chance: if when he goes to rest, which will not be, 'twixt every prayer he says, to name you once as others drop beads, be to be in love, than madam I dare swear he loves ye. O you're a cunning boy, and taught to your Lords credit, But thou know'st a lie that bears this sound, Is welcomer to me then any truth that says He loves me not: lead the way boy, do you attend me too, 'tis thy Lord's business hasts me thus away.
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)
Where's the boy? Within. Gaue you him gold to buy him clothes? I did. And has he don't? Yes Madam. Tis a pretie sad talking boy, i'st not, askt you his name? No Madame. O, you are welcome, what good newes? As good as any one can tell your grace, that sayes, she has done that you would haue wisht. Hast thou discouered? I haue straind a point of modesty for you. I prethee how? In listning after bawdry: I see, let a Lady liue neuer so modestly, they shall be sure to finde a lawfull time, to harken after bawdry, your Prince braue Pharamont was so hot ont. With whom? Why with the Lady I suspected, I can tell the time and place. O when and where? To night, his lodging. Run thy selfe into the presents: mingle there againe with other Ladies, leaue the rest to me, if destinie to whom wee dare not say, why thou didst this, haue not decreed it so, in lasting leaues: whose smallest charecters was neuer altred, yet this match shall breake: wheres the boy. Here Madame. Sir, your sad to change your seruice, i'st not so? Madame, I haue not chang'd, I waite on you to doe him seruice. Then trust in me, tell me thy name. Bellario. Thou canst sing and play. If griefe will giue me leaue Madame, I can. Alas, what kinde of griefe can thy yeares know, Hadst thou a crosse schoole-maister when thou went'st to schoole? Thou art not capable of other griefe, Thy browes and cheekes are smooth as water be, When no breath troubles them: beleeue me boy, Care seekes wrinckled browes, and hollow eyes, And builds it selfe caues to abide in them, Come sir, tell me truely, doth your Lord loue me? I know not Madame, what it is. Canst thou know griefe, and neuer yet knewst loue, Thou art deceiud boy, dos he speake of me, As ifhe wisht me well? If it be loue to forget all respect to his owne friends, with thinking of your face: if it bee loue to sit crosse armde, and thinke away the day, with mingling starts, and crying your name as lowde as men in streetes doe fire: if it bee loue to weepe himselfe away, when hee but heares of any woman dead or kild, because it might haue bin your chance: ifwhen hee goes to rest, which will not bee, twixt euery praierhe saies, to name you once as others drop beades, be to be in loue, then Madame I dare sweare he loues yee. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to your Lords credit, But thou know'st a lie that beares this sound, Is welcomer to me then any truth that sayes He loues me not: lead the way boy, doe you attend me too, Tis thy Lords businesse hasts me thus away.