Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
For I have heard it said, There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares With great creating-Nature. Say there be: Yet Nature is made better by no mean, But Nature makes that Mean: so over that Art, (Which you say adds to Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stock, And make conceive a bark of base kind By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which does mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art itself, is Nature. So it is. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly'vors, And do not call them bastards. I'll not put The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them: No more than were I painted, I would wish This youth should say 'twere well: and only therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you: Hot Lavender, Mints, Savoury, Mariorum, The Marigold, that goes to bed with Sun, And with him rises, weeping: These are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. YE are very welcome. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. Out alas: You'd be so lean, that blasts of Ianuary Would blow you through and through. Now my fair'st Friend, I would I had some Flowers o' th' Spring, that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That wear upon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, For the Flowers now, that (frighted) thou lettest fall From Dysses Wagon: Daffodils, That come before the Swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty: Violets (dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath) pale Primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Malady Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and The Crown Imperial: Lilies of all kinds, (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lack, To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er, and over. What? like a Coarse? No, like a bank, for Love to lie, and play on: Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried, But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flours, Me thinks I play as I have seen them do In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine Does change my disposition: What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak (Sweet) I'd have you do it ever: When you sing, I'd have you buy, and sell so: so give Alms, Pray so: and for the ordering your Affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' th' Sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that: move still, still so: And own no other Function. Each your doing, (So singular, in each particular) Crowns what you are doing, in the present deeds, That all your Acts, are Queens.
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)
For I haue heard it ſaid, There is an Art, which in their pideneſſe ſhares With great creating-Nature. Say there be: Yet Nature is made better by no meane, But Nature makes that Meane: ſo ouer that Art, (Which you ſay addes to Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you ſee (ſweet Maid) we marry A gentler Sien, to the wildeſt Stocke, And make conceyue a barke of baſer kinde By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art it ſelfe, is Nature. So it is. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly'vors, And do not call them baſtards. Ile not put The Dible in earth, to ſet one ſlip of them: No more then were I painted, I would wiſh This youth ſhould ſay 'twer well: and onely therefore Deſire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you: Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum, The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with Sun, And with him riſes, weeping: Theſe are flowres Of middle ſummer, and I thinke they are giuen To men of middle age. Y' are very welcome. I ſhould leaue graſing, were I of your flocke, And onely liue by gazing. Out alas: You'ld be ſo leane, that blaſts of Ianuary Would blow you through and through. Now my faſt Friend, I would I had ſome Flowres o' th Spring, that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proſerpina, For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'ſt fall From Dyſſes Waggon: Daffadils, That come before the Swallow dares▪ and take The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim, But ſweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roſes, That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his ſtrength (a Maladie Moſt incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds, (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, theſe I lacke, To make you Garlands of) and my ſweet friend, To ſtrew him o're, and ore. What? like a Coarſe? No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on: Not like a Coarſe: or if: not to be buried, But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours, Me thinkes I play as I haue ſeene them do In Whitſo-Paſtorals: Sure this Robe of mine Do's change my diſpoſition: What you do, Still betters what is done. When you ſpeake (Sweet) I'ld haue you do it euer: When you ſing, I'ld haue you buy, and ſell ſo: ſo giue Almes, Pray ſo: and for the ord'ring your Affayres, To ſing them too. When you do dance, I wiſh you A waue o' th Sea, that you might euer do Nothing but that: moue ſtill, ſtill ſo: And owne no other Function. Each your doing, (So ſingular, in each particular) Crownes what you are doing, in the preſent deeds, That all your Actes, are Queenes.