Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1593 [c.1593-1594] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men (?) unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Oh, knowst thou not, his looks are my soul's food? Pity the dearth that I have pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of Love, Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow As seek to quench the fire of Love with words. I do not seek to quench your Love's hot fire, But qualify the fires extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns: The Current that with gentle murmur glides (Thou knowst) being stopped, impatiently doth rage: But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th' enamelled stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild Ocean. Then let me go, and hinder not my course: I'll be as patiented as a gentle stream, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step have brought me to my Love, And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil A blessed soul doth in Elysium. But in what habit will you go along? Not like a woman, for I would prevent The lose encounters of lascivious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well reputed Page. Why then your Ladyship must cut your hair. No girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings, With twenty od-conceited true-love knots: To be fantastic, may become a youth Of greater time than I shall show to be. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches? That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord) What compass will you wear your Farthingale? Why even what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.) You must needs have them with a codpiece (Madam) Out, out, (Lucetta) that willbe illfavourd. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me let me have What thou thinkest meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me For undertaking so unstaid a journey? I fear me it will make me scandalized. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not. Nay, that I will not. Then never dream on Infamy, but go: If Protheus like your journey, when you come, No matter who's displeased, when you are gone: I fear me he will scarce be pleased with all. That is the least (Lucetta) of my fear: A thousand oaths, an Ocean of his tears, And instances of infinite of Love, Warrant me welcome to my Protheus. All these are servants to deceitful men. Base men, that use them to so base effect; But truer stars did govern Protheus birth, His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears, pure messengers, sent from his heart, His heart, as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.
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)
Oh, know'ſt yu not, his looks are my ſoules food? Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in, By longing for that food ſo long a time. Didſt thou but know the inly touch of Loue, Thou wouldſt as ſoone goe kindle fire with ſnow As ſeeke to quench the fire of Loue with words. I doe not ſeeke to quench your Loues hot fire, But qualifie the fires extreame rage, Leſt it ſhould burne aboue the bounds of reaſon. The more thou dam'ſt it vp, the more it burnes: The Current that with gentle murmure glides (Thou know'ſt) being ſtop'd, impatiently doth rage: But when his faire courſe is not hindered, He makes ſweet muſicke with th' enameld ſtones, Giuing a gentle kiſſe to euery ſedge He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage. And ſo by many winding nookes he ſtraies With willing ſport to the wilde Ocean. Then let me goe, and hinder not my courſe: Ile be as patient as a gentle ſtreame, And make a paſtime of each weary ſtep, Till the laſt ſtep haue brought me to my Loue, And there Ile reſt, as after much turmoile A bleſſed ſoule doth in Elizium. But in what habit will you goe along? Not like a woman, for I would preuent The looſe encounters of laſciuious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with ſuch weedes As may beſeeme ſome well reputed Page. Why then your Ladiſhip muſt cut your haire. No girle, Ile knit it vp in ſilken ſtrings, With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots: To be fantaſtique, may become a youth Of greater time then I ſhall ſhew to be. What faſhion (Madam) ſhall I make your breeches? That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord) What compaſſe will you weare your Farthingale? Why eu'n what faſhion thou beſt likes (Lucetta.) You muſt needs haue thē with a cod-peece (Madam) Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd. A round hoſe (Madam) now's not worth a pin Vnleſſe you haue a cod-peece to ſtick pins on. Lucetta, as thou lou'ſt me let me haue What thou think'ſt meet, and is moſt mannerly. But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me For vndertaking ſo vnſtaid a iourney? I feare me it will make me ſcandaliz'd. If you thinke ſo, then ſtay at home, and go not. Nay, that I will not. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go: If Protheus like your iourney, when you come, No matter who's diſpleas'd, when you are gone: I feare me he will ſcarce be pleas'd with all. That is the leaſt (Lucetta) of my feare: A thouſand oathes, an Ocean of his teares, And inſtances of infinite of Loue, Warrant me welcome to my Protheus. All theſe are ſeruants to deceitfull men. Baſe men, that vſe them to ſo baſe effect; But truer ſtarres did gouerne Protheus birth, His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles, His loue ſincere, his thoughts immaculate, His teares, pure meſſengers, ſent from his heart, His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth.