Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
O fellow come, the song we had last night: Mark it Cesario, it is old and plain; The Spinsters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. Are you ready Sir? I prithee sing. Come away, come away death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fie away, fie away breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid: My shroud of white, stuck all with Ewe, O prepare it. My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin, let there be strewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpses, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me o where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there. There's for thy pains. No pains sir, I take pleasure in singing sir. I'll pay thy pleasure then. Truly sir, and pleasure will be paid one time, or another. Give me now leave, to leave thee. Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffeta, for thy mind is a very Opal. I would have men of such constancy put to Sea, that their business might be every thing, and their intent every where, for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. Let all the rest give place: Once more Cesario, Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: Tell her my love, more noble than the world Prizes not quantity of dirty lands, The parts that fortune hath bestowed upon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: But 'tis that miracle, and Queen of gems That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul. But if she cannot love you sir. It cannot be so answered. Sooth but you must. Say that some Lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love as great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her: You tell her so: Must she not then be answered? There is no woman's sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion, As love doth give my heart: no woman's heart So big, to hold so much, they lack retention. Alas, their love may be called appetite, No motion of the Liver, but the palate, That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt, But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digest as much, make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me, And that I own Olivia. I but I know. What dost thou know? Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter loved a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I should your Lordship.
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)
O fellow come, the ſong we had laſt night: Marke it Ceſario, it is old and plaine; The Spinſters and the Knitters in the Sun, And the free maides that weaue their thred with bones, Do vſe to chaunt it: it is ſilly ſooth, And dallies with the innocence of loue, Like the old age. Are you ready Sir? I prethee ſing. Come away, come away death, And in ſad cypreſſe let me be laide. Fye away, fie away breath, I am ſlaine by a faire cruell maide: My ſhrowd of white, ſtuck all with Ew, O prepare it. My part of death no one ſo true did ſhare it. Not a flower, not a flower ſweete On my blacke coffin, let there be ſtrewne: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poore corpes, where my bones ſhall be throwne: A thouſand thouſand ſighes to ſaue, lay me ô where Sad true louer neuer find my graue, to weepe there. There's for thy paines. No paines ſir, I take pleaſure in ſinging ſir. Ile pay thy pleaſure then. Truely ſir, and pleaſure will be paide one time, or another. Giue me now leaue, to leaue thee. Now the melancholly God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy doublet of changeable Taffata, for thy minde is a very Opall. I would haue men of ſuch conſtancie put to Sea, that their buſineſſe might be euery thing, and their intent euerie where, for that's it, that alwayes makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. Let all the reſt giue place: Once more Ceſario, Get thee to yond ſame ſoueraigne crueltie: Tell her my loue, more noble then the world Prizes not quantitie of dirtie lands, The parts that fortune hath beſtow'd vpon her: Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune: But 'tis that miracle, and Queene of Iems That nature prankes her in, attracts my ſoule. But if ſhe cannot loue you ſir. It cannot be ſo anſwer'd. Sooth but you muſt. Say that ſome Lady, as perhappes there is, Hath for your loue as great a pang of heart As you haue for Oliuia: you cannot loue her: You tel her ſo: Muſt ſhe not then be anſwer'd? There is no womans ſides Can bide the beating of ſo ſtrong a paſſion, As loue doth giue my heart: no womans heart So bigge, to hold ſo much, they lacke retention. Alas, their loue may be call'd appetite, No motion of the Liuer, but the Pallat, That ſuffer ſurfet, cloyment, and reuolt, But mine is all as hungry as the Sea, And can digeſt as much, make no compare Betweene that loue a woman can beare me, And that I owe Oliuia. I but I know. What doſt thou knowe? Too well what loue women to men may owe: In faith they are as true of heart, as we. My Father had a daughter lou'd a man As it might be perhaps, were I a woman I ſhould your Lordſhip.