May, Thomas · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 (Annals) comedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.73 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Well, I would see her once, Wert but to try thy judgement Cleremont. And when thou dost, remember what I told thee, I would not be so sick, but soft look to thy heart, Yonder she comes, and that's her waiting woman. Now gaze thy fill, speak man how likest thou her. Psecas. Madam. What flower was that That thou wert telling such a story of Last night to me. 'tis call Narcissus Madam. It bears the name of that too beauteous boy, That lost himself by loving of himself, Who viewing in affair and crystal stream Those lips that only he could never kiss, Dotes on the shadow, which to reach in vain Striving, he drowns thus scorning all beside For the loved shadow the fairer substance dyde. Fie fie, I like not these impossible tales, A man to fall in love with his own shadow, And died for love, it is most ridiculous. Madam I know not, I have often seen Both men and women court the looking glass With so much seeming contentation, That I could think this true, nay wear it about 'em As lovers do their Mistress counterfeit. That's not for love, but to correct their beauties And draw from others admiration, For all the comfort that our faces give Unto ourselves is but reflection Of that fair liking that another takes. I would we were a little nearer 'em We might but hear what talk these wenches have When they are alone, I warrant some good stuff. 'tis happiness enough for me to see The motion of her lips. i'faith is't thereabouts. Why Philocles, what lost already man, Struck dead with one poor glance, look up for shame And tell me how thou likest my judgement now, Now thou dost see. Ah Cleremont too well, Too well I see what I shall never taste, You lady's beauty: she must needs be cruel (Though her fair shape deny it) to the son Of him that is her father's enemy, That, Cleremont, that fatal difference Cheques my desire, and sinks my rising hopes, But love's a torrent violent if stopped, And I am desperately mad: I must I must be hers, or else I must not be. Contain that passion that will else overwhelm All virtue in you, all that is called man, And should be yours, take my advice my heart My life to second you, let us consult, You may find time to speak to her and woe her. May, nay I will in spite of destiny, Let women and faint hearted fools complain In languishing despair, a manly love Dares show itself and press to his desires Through thickest troops of horrid opposites, Were there a thousand waking Dragons set To keep that golden fruit: I would attempt To pluck and taste it, 'tis the danger crowns A brave achievement: what if I should go And boldly woo her in her father's house In spite enmity, what could they say?
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Well, I would ſee her once, Wert but to try thy iudgement Cleremont. And when thou doeſt, remember what I told thee, I would not be ſo ſicke, but ſoft looke to thy heart, Yonder ſhe comes, and thats her waiting woman. Now gaze thy fill, ſpeake man how likeſt thou her. Pſecas. Madam. What flower was that That thou wert telling ſuch a ſtory of Laſt night to me. Tis call Narciſſus Madam▪ It beares the name of that too beautious boy, That loſt himſelfe by louing of himſelfe, Who viewing in afaire and criſtall ſtreame Thoſe lips that onely he could neuer kiſſe, Dotes on the ſhadow, which to reach in vaine Striuing, he drwones thus ſcorning all beſide For the loued ſhadow the fairer ſubſtance dyde. Fie fie, I like not theſe impoſſible tales, A man to fall in loue with his owne ſhadow, And died for loue, it is moſt ridiculous. Madam I know not, I haue often ſeene Both men and women court the looking glaſſe With ſo much ſeeming contentation, That I could thinke this true, nay weare it about vm As louers do their Miſtreſſe counterfeit. Thas not for loue, but to correct their beauties And draw from others admiration, For all the comfort that our faces giue Vnto our ſelues is but reflection Of that faire likeing that another takes. I would we were a little neerer vm We migh but heare what talke theſe wenches haue When they are alone, I warrant ſome good ſtuffe. Tis happineſſe enough for me to ſee The motion of her lips. I aith iſt there abouts. Why Philocles, what loſt already man, Strooke dead with one poore glance, looke vp for ſhame And tell me how thou likeſt my iudgement now, Now thou doeſt ſee. Ah Cleremont too well, Too well I ſee what I ſhall neuer taſte, You Ladies beautie: ſhe muſt needs be cruell (Though her faire ſhape deny it) to the ſonne Of him that is her fathers enemy, That, Cleremont, that fatall difference Checkes my deſire, and ſinkes my riſing hopes, But loue's a torrent violent if ſtopt, And I am deſperately mad: I muſt muſt be hers, or elſe I muſt not be. Containe that paſſion that will elſe ouerwhelme All vertue in you, all that is called man, And ſhould be yours, take my aduice my heart My life to ſecond you, let vs conſult, You may find time to ſpeake to her and woe her. May, nay I will in ſpite of deſtinie, women and faint hearted fooles complaine In languiſhing diſpayre, a manly loue Dares ſhew it ſelfe and preſſe to his deſires Through thickeſt troopes of horid oppoſites, Were there a thouſand waking Dragons ſet To keepe that golden fruit: I would attempt To plucke and taſte it, tis the danger crownes A braue atchieuement: what if I ſhould goe And boldly wooe her in her fathers houſe In ſpite enmity, what could they ſay?