Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
The Crickets sing, and man's ore-labored sense Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the Rushes, ere he wakened The Chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy Bed; fresh Lily, And whiter than the Sheets: that I might touch, But kiss, one kiss. Rubies vnparagoned, How dearly they do't: 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o' th' Taper Bows toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids. To see th' enclosed Lights, now Canopied Under these windows, White and Azure laced With Blue of Heavens own tinct. But my design? To note the Chamber, I will write all down, Such, and such pictures: There the window, such Th' adronement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures, Why such, and such: and the Contents o' th' Story. Ah, but some natural notes about her Body, Above ten thousand meaner Movables Would testify, t' enrich mine Inventory. O sleep, thou Ape of death, lie dull upon her, And be her Sense but as a Monument, Thus in a Chapel lying. Come off, come off; As slippery as the Gordian-knot was hard. 'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the Conscience does within: To ' th' madding of her Lord. On her left breast Amole Cinque-spotted: Like the Crimson drops I' th' bottom of a Cowslippe. here's a Voucher, Stronger than ever Law could make; this Secret Will force him think I have picked the lock, and taken The treasure of her Honour. No more: to what end? Why should I write this down, that's rivete, Screwed to my memory. She hath been reading late, The Tale of Tereus, here the leaffe's turned down Where Philomele gave up. I have enough, To ' th' Trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning May bear the Raven's eye: I lodge in fear, Though this a heavenly Angel: hell is here. One, two, three: time, time. Your Lordship is the most patiented man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up Ace. It would make any man cold to lose. But not every man patiented after the noble temper of your Lordship; You are most hot, and furious when you win. Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have Gold enough: it's almost morning, is't not? Day, my Lord. I would this Music would come: I am advised to give her Music a mornings, they say it will penetrate. Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so: we'll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain: but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good conceited thing; after a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her consider. Hark, hark, the Lark at Heaven's gate sings, and Phoebus 'gins arise, His Steeds to water at those Springs on chaliced Flowers that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin to open their Golden eyes With every thing that pretty is, my Lady sweet arise: Arise, arise.
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)
The Crickets ſing, and mans ore-labor'd ſenſe Repaires it ſelfe by reſt: Our Tarquine thus Did ſoftly preſſe the Ruſhes, ere he waken'd The Chaſtitie he wounded. Cytherea, How brauely thou becom'ſt thy Bed; freſh Lilly, And whiter then the Sheetes: that I might touch, But kiſſe, one kiſſe. Rubies vnparagon'd, How deerely they doo't: 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the Chamber thus: the Flame o' th' Taper Bowes toward her, and would vnder-peepe her lids. To ſee th' incloſed Lights, now Canopied Vnder theſe windowes, White and Azure lac'd With Blew of Heauens owne tinct. But my deſigne? To note the Chamber, I will write all downe, Such, and ſuch pictures: There the window, ſuch Th' adronement of her Bed; the Arras, Figures, Why ſuch, and ſuch: and the Contents o' th' Story. Ah, but ſome naturall notes about her Body, Aboue ten thouſand meaner Moueables Would teſtifie, t' enrich mine Inuentorie. O ſleepe, thou Ape of death, lye dull vpon her, And be her Senſe but as a Monument, Thus in a Chappell lying. Come off, come off; As ſlippery as the Gordian-knot was hard. 'Tis mine, and this will witneſſe outwardly, As ſtrongly as the Conſcience do's within: To' th' madding of her Lord. On her left breſt Amole Cinque-ſpotted: Like the Crimſon drops I' th' bottome of a Cowſlippe. Heere's a Voucher, Stronger then euer Law could make; this Secret Will force him thinke I haue pick'd the lock, and t'ane The treaſure of her Honour. No more: to what end? Why ſhould I write this downe, that's riuete, Screw'd to my memorie. She hath bin reading late, The Tale of Tereus, heere the leaffe's turn'd downe Where Philomele gaue vp. I haue enough, To' th' Truncke againe, and ſhut the ſpring of it. Swift, ſwift, you Dragons of the night, that dawning May beare the Rauens eye: I lodge in feare, Though this a heauenly Angell: hell is heere. One, two, three: time, time. Your Lordſhip is the moſt patient man in loſſe, the moſt coldeſt that euer turn'd vp Ace. It would make any man cold to looſe. But not euery man patient after the noble temper of your Lordſhip; You are moſt hot, and furious when you winne. Winning will put any man into courage: if I could get this fooliſh Imogen, I ſhould haue Gold enough: it's almoſt morning, is't not? Day, my Lord. I would this Muſicke would come: I am aduiſed to giue her Muſicke a mornings, they ſay it will penetrate. Come on, tune: If you can penetrate her with your fingering, ſo: wee'l try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remaine: but Ile neuer giue o're. Firſt, a very excellent good conceyted thing after a wonderful ſweet aire, with admirable rich words to it, and then let her conſider. Hearke, hearke, the Larke at Heauens gate ſings, and Phoebus gins ariſe, His Steeds to water at thoſe Springs on chalic'd Flowres that lyes: And winking Mary-buds begin to ope their Golden eyes With euery thing that pretty is, my Lady ſweet ariſe: Ariſe, ariſe.