Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
As now she might have done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my Soul. Oh, thus she stood, Even with such Life of Majesty (warm Life, As now it coldly stands) when first I wooed her. I am ashamed: Does not the Stone rebuke me, For being more Stone than it? Oh Royal Piece: There's Magic in thy Majesty, which has My Evils conjured to remembrance; and From thy admiring Daughter took the Spirits, Standing like Stone with thee. And give me leave, And do not say 'tis Superstition, that I kneel, and then implore her Blessing. Lady, Dear Queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. O, patience: The Statue is but newly fixed; the Colour's Not dry. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on, Which sixteen Winters cannot blow away, So many Summer's dry: scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no Sorrow, But killed itself much sooner. Dear my Brother, Let him, that was the cause of this, have power To take-off so much grief from you, as he Will piece up in himself. Indeed my Lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor Image Would thus have wrought you (for the Stone is mine) I'd not have showed it. Do not draw the Curtain. No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your Fancy May think anon, it moves. Let be, let be: Would I were dead, but that me thinks already. (What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord) Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins Did verily bear blood? Masterly done: The very Life seems warm upon her Lip. The fixure of her Eye has motion in't, As we are mocked with Art. I'll draw the Curtain: My Lord's almost so far transported, that he'll think anon it lives. Oh sweet Paulina, Make me to think so twenty years together: No settled Senses of the World can match The pleasure of that madness. Leted alone. I am sorry (Sir) I have thus far stirred you: but I could afflict you farther. Do Paulina: For this Affliction has a taste as sweet As any Cordial comfort. Still me thinks There is an air comes from her. What fine Chizzell Can ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her. Good my Lord, forbear: The ruddiness upon her Lip, is wet: You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own With Oily Painting: shall I draw the Curtain. No: not these twenty years. So long could I Standby, a looker-on. Either forbear, Quit presently the Chapel, or resolve you For more amazement: if you can behold it, I'll make the Statue move indeed; descend, And take you by the hand: but than you'll think (Which I protest against) I am assisted By wicked Powers. What you can make her do, I am content to look on: what to speak, I am content to hear: for 'tis as easy To make her speak, as move.
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)
As now ſhe might haue done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus ſhe ſtood, Euen with ſuch Life of Maieſtie (warme Life, As now it coldly ſtands) when firſt I woo'd her. I am aſham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me, For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece: There's Magick in thy Maieſtie, which ha's My Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits, Standing like Stone with thee. And giue me leaue, And doe not ſay 'tis Superſtition, that I kneele, and then implore her Bleſſing. Lady, Deere Queene, that ended when I but began, Giue me that hand of yours, to kiſſe. O, patience: The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's Not dry. My Lord, your Sorrow was too ſore lay'd-on, Which ſixteene Winters cannot blow away, So many Summers dry: ſcarce any Ioy Did euer ſo long liue; no Sorrow, But kill'd it ſelfe much ſooner. Deere my Brother, Let him, that was the cauſe of this, haue powre To take-off ſo much griefe from you, as he Will peece vp in himſelfe. Indeed my Lord, If I had thought the ſight of my poore Image Would thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine) Il'd not haue ſhew'd it. Doe not draw the Curtaine. No longer ſhall you gaze on't, leaſt your Fancie May thinke anon, it moues. Let be, let be: Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie. (What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord) Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that thoſe veines Did verily beare blood? 'Maſterly done: The very Life ſeemes warme vpon her Lippe. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't, As we are mock'd with Art. Ile draw the Curtaine: My Lord's almoſt ſo farre tranſported, that Hee'le thinke anon it liues. Oh ſweet Paulina, Make me to thinke ſo twentie yeeres together: No ſetled Sences of the World can match The pleaſure of that madneſſe. Let't alone. I am ſorry (Sir) I haue thus farre ſtir'd you: but I could afflict you farther. Doe Paulina: For this Affliction ha's a taſte as ſweet As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiſſe her. Good my Lord, forbeare: The ruddineſſe vpon her Lippe, is wet: You'le marre it, if you kiſſe it; ſtayne your owne With Oyly Painting: ſhall I draw the Curtaine. No: not theſe twentie yeeres. So long could I Stand-by, a looker-on. Either forbeare, Quit preſently the Chappell, or reſolue you For more amazement: if you can behold it, Ile make the Statue moue indeed; deſcend, And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke (Which I proteſt againſt) I am aſſiſted By wicked Powers. What you can make her doe, I am content to looke on: what to ſpeake, I am content to heare: for 'tis as eaſie To make her ſpeake, as moue.