Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
If one immodest accent Fly out, I hate you everlastingly. My true love dares not do it. Hermes inspire thee. See you, do you see, our work is done, the fish you angle for is nibbling at the hook, and therefore untruss the Codpiece point of our reward, no matter if the breeches of conscience fall about our heels. The gold you earn is here, dam up your mouths, and no words of it. No, nor no words from you of too much damning neither; I know women sell themselves daily, and are hackneyed out for silver, why may not we then betray a scurvy mistress for gold. She saved us from the Gallows, and only to keep one Proverb from breaking his neck, we'll hang her. 'tis well done, go go, year my fine white boys. If your red boys, 'tis well known, more ill-favoured faces then ours are painted. Those fellows trouble us. Away, away. I to my sweet placket. And I to my full pot. Come, let me tune you, glaze not thus your eyes With self-love of a vowed Virginity, Make every man your glass, you see our Sex Do never murder propagation, We all desire your sweet society, And if you bar me from it, you do kill me, And of my blood are guilty. O base Villain. Bridle your rage sweet Princess. Could not my fortunes (Reared higher far than yours) be worthy of you, methinks my dear affection makes you mine. Sir, for your fortunes were they mines of gold, He that I love is richer; and for worth, You are to him lower than any slave Is to a Monarch. So insolent, base Christian. Can I, with wearing out my knees before him Get you but be his servant, you shall boast you're equal to a King. Confusion on thee, For playing thus the lying sorceress. Your mocks are great ones, none beneath the Sun Will I be servant too: on my knees I beg it, Pity me wondrous maid. I curse thy baseness. Listen to more. Oh kneel not Sir to me. This Knee is Emblem of an humbled heart, That heart which tortured is with your disdain, justly for scorning others; even this heart, To which for pity such a Princess sues, As in her hand offers me all the World, Great Caesar's daughter. Slave thou liest. Yet this Is adamant to her, that melts to you In drops of blood. A Very dog. Perhaps 'tis my religion makes you knit the brow, Yet be you mine, and ever be your own, I ne'er will screw your conscience from that power On which you Christians lean. I can no longer, Fret out my life with weeping at thee villain; sirrah, Would when I got thee, the high thunder hand Had struck thee in the womb. We are betrayed. Is that your I doll, traitor, which thou kneelst to, Trampling upon my beauty?
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)
If one immodest accent Flye out, I hate you euerlastingly. My true loue dares not doe it. Hermes inspire thee. See you, doe you see, our worke is done, the fish you angle for is nibling at the hooke, and therefore vntrusse the Codpeece point of our reward, no matter if the breeches of conscience fall about our heeles. The gold you earne is heere, dam vp your mouthes, and no words of it. No, nor no words from you of too much damming neither; I know women sell themselues dayly, and are knied out for siluer, why may not we then betray a scuruy mistresse for gold. She sau'd vs from the Gallowes, and only to keepe one Prouerbe from breaking his necke, weele hang her. Tis well done, go go, yeare my fine white boyes. If your red boyes, tis well knowne, more lifauour'd faces then ours are painted. Those fellowes trouble vs. Away, away. I to my sweete placket. And I to my full pot. Come, let me tune you, glaze not thus your eyes With selfe-loue of a vowed Virginity, Make euery man your glasse, you see our Sex Doe neuer murder propagation, We all desire your sweete society, And if you barre me from it, you doe kill me, And of my bloud are guilty. O base Villaine. Bridle your rage sweete Princesse. Could not my fortunes (Rear'd higher farre then yours) be worthy of you, Me thinkes my deare affection makes you mine. Sir, for your fortunes were they mines of gold, He that I loue is richer; and for worth, You are to him lower then any slaue Is to a Monarch. So insolent, base Christian. Can I, with wearing out my knees before him Get you but be his seruant, you shall boast y'are equall to a King. Confusion on thee, For playing thus the lying Sorcereste. Your mockes are great ones, none beneath the Sun Will I be seruant too: on my knees I beg it, Pitty me wondrous maid. I curse thy basenesse. Listen to more. Oh kneele not Sir to me. This Knee is Embleme of an humbled heart, That heart which tortur'd is with your disdaine, Iustly for scorning others; euen this heart, To which for pitty such a Princesse sues, As in her hand offers me all the World, Great Caesars daughter. Slaue thou lyest. Yet this Is adamant to her, that melts to you In drops of blood. A Very dogge. Perhaps Tis my religion makes you knit the brow, Yet be you mine, and euer be your owne, I nere will screw your conscience from that power On which you Christians leane. I can no longer, Fret out my life with weeping at thee villaine; sirra, Would when I got thee, the high thunder hand Had strucke thee in the wombe. We are betrayde. Is that your I doll, traitor, which thou kneelst to, Trampling vpon my beauty?