The Two Merry Milkmaids, or The Best Words Wear the Garland · chunk 21 of 54
Cumber, John · published 1620 · first performed or written 1619 [1619-1620] (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Thou dost astonish me: would I could call This any thing but Truth, a Dream, a Vision, With Terrors following it, enough to sink me Deeper in Earth than I am now above it. When Flora strives to deck the Earth with Flowers, She never showed half such variety. Good Dorilus leave me a while to think, And to collect myself, and then return. I shall. Why did these Flowers grow? to blush for me? Or do they blush, because they have wrought my shame? Why did not Storms and North winds nip your Buds, And killed ye, ere you showed the Sun your Leaves? Why did not Lightnings blast ye? Beasts or Worms Pluck up your Roots, and make you fit for Fire? There you had showed more glorious than here: For here you bring, under so many Colours, A show of Sweetness, that will breed the Plague, And run infectiously into our bloods. For if I fall, what Woman will be honest? Or being so, what's he that will believe it? How now my Duchess? talking to thyself? What's that? Why dost thou hide it from me? It is rich unto the eye, but much more rarer: Flowers so plentiful, and at this time, It wonders me? Prithee let me see it, I never saw so many various Forms Knit up so curious: believe me, 'tis a Present Fit for the Queen of Nations, and for thee; He well deserved, that did bestow it on thee. 'Tis not to be bestowed Sir, 'tis to be bought, And at a dear Rate too. Why, and thou dost, no matter, For trust me 'tis a very pretty Toy. A pretty Toy must buy it. If it would not fade. It will not fade Sir, it will keep too long I fear, for you to like it. Why dost thou think so? it is like thyself, Full of Variety, and choice Delights, And th'longer I behold it, the more it likes me. O, there are Serpents in't, and ugly Toads, That burst and shed their poison; not a Flower, But bears a sting in it, that wounds my heart: Foul Lust and Murder, that doth follow it, lies hid amongst the Leaves. O throw me Sir, Throw me from your Embraces, as far as the wild winds Doth drive the Dust before it, and destroy me. Like it to nothing: Purge your Land, by making Bonfires of it and me upon some Hill, That the black Smoke may vanish into Air. And not infect your Turrets. Why dost thou talk thus? First kill me Sir, it will be Charity, Then rip my Bosom up, and in my Heart There you shall find what my Tongue loathes to utter. I thought, dear Dorigene, I never should Have been a stranger to your Thoughts, till now: I pry thy speak, what is it troubles thee?
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)
Thou do'st astonish me: wud I coud call This any thing but Truth, a Dreame, a Vision, With Terrors following it, enough to sinke me Deeper in Earth then I am now aboue it. When Flora striues to decke the Earth with Flowers, She neuer shew'd halfe such varietie. Good Dorilus leaue me a while to thinke, And to collect my selfe, and then returne. I shall. Why did these Flowers grow? to blush for me? Or do they blush, because they haue wrought my shame? Why did not Stormes and North winds nip your Buds, And kill'd yee, ere you shew'd the Sunne your Leaues? Why did not Lightnings blast yee? Beasts or Wormes Plucke vp your Roots, and make you fit for Fire? There you had shew'd more glorious then here: For here you bring, vnder so many Colours, A shew of Sweetnesse, that will breed the Plague, And run infectiously into our Blouds. For if I fall, what Woman will be honest? Or being so, what's he that will beleeue it? How now my Duchesse? talking to thy selfe? What's that? Why do'st thou hide it from me? It is rich vnto the eye, but much more rarer: Flowers so plentifull, and at this time, It wonders me? Prythy let me see it, I neuer saw so many rarious Formes Knit vp so curious: beleeue me, 'tis a Present Fit for the Queene of Nations, and for thee; He well deseru'd, that did bestow it on thee. 'Tis not to be bestow'd Sir, 'tis to be bought, And at a deare Rate too. Why, and thou do'st, no matter, For trust me 'tis a very pretty Toy. A pretty Toy must buy it. If it wud not fade. It will not fade Sir, it will keepe too long I feare, for you to like it. Why do'st thou thinke so? it is like thy selfe, Full of Varietie, and choise Delights, And th'longer I behold it, the more it likes me. O, there are Serpents in't, and vgly Toads, That burst and shed their poyson; not a Flower, But beares a sting in it, that wounds my heart: Foule Lust and Murder, that doth follow it, Lyes hid amongst the Leaues. O throw me Sir, Throw me from your Embraces, as far as the wild winds Doth driue the Dust before it, and destroy me. Like it to nothing: Purge your Land, by making Bonfires of it and me vpon some Hill, That the blacke Smoake may vanish into Ayre. And not infect your Turrets. Why do'st thou talke thus? First kill me Sir, it will be Charitie, Then rip my Bosome vp, and in my Heart There you shall find what my Tongue loathes to vtter. I thought, deare Dorigene, I neuer shud Haue bin a stranger to your Thoughts, till now: I pry thy speake, what is it troubles thee?