Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Seek not to grieve that heart which is thine own, In love's sweet fires, let heat of rage burn out; These brows could never yet to wrinkle learn, Nor anger out of such fair eyes look forth. You may solicit your presumptuous suits; You duty may, and shame too laid aside, Disturb my privacies, and I forsooth, Must be afeard even to be angry at you. What shame is't to be mastered by such beauty? Who, but to serve you, comes, how wants he duty? Or if it be a shame, the shame is yours; The fault is only in your Eyes, they drew me; Cause you were lovely, therefore did I love: O, if to Love you, anger you so much, You should not have such cheeks, nor lips to touch, You should not have your snow, nor coral spied; If you but look on us, in vain you chide, We must not see your Face, nor hear your speech: Now, whilst you Love forbid, you Love do teach. He doth better than I thought he would. I will not learn my beauty's worth of you, I know you neither are the first, nor greatest Whom it hath moved: He whom the World obeys Is feared with anger of my threatning Eyes. It is for you afar off to adore it, And not to reach at it with saucy hands. Fear, is the Love that's due to Gods, and Princes All this is but to edge his appetite. O do not see thy fair in that false glass Of outward difference; Look into my heart, There, shalt thou see thyself, Enthroned set In greater Majesty, than all the pomp Of Rome, or Nero; 'tis not the crowching awe, And Ceremony, with which we flatter Princes, That can to love's true duties be compared. Sir, let me go, or I'll make known your Love To them, that shall requite it, but with hate. On, on, thou hast the goal, the fort is beaten, Women are won when they begin to threaten. Your Nobleness doth warrant me from that, Nor need you others help, to punish me, Who, by your forehead am condemned, or free. They, that to be revenged do bend their mind, Seek always recompense, in that same kind The wrong was done them; Love was mine offence, In that revenge, in that seek recompense. Further to answer, will still cause replies, And those as ill do please me, as yourself: If you'll an answer take, that's brief, and true, I hate myself, If I be loved of you. What gone? but she will come again sure, no; It passeth clean my cunning, all my rules; For Women's wantonness there is no rule. To take her, in the itching of her Lust, A proper young man putting forth himself? Why Fate; There's Fate and hidden providence In cod piece matters. O unhappy Man, What comfort have I now Petronius? Counsel yourself, I'll teach no more but learn.
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)
Seeke not to grieue that heart which is thine owne, In Loues ſweete fires, let heat of rage burne out; Theſe browes could neuer yet to wrinckle learne, Nor anger out of ſuch faire eyes looke forth. You may ſolicite your preſumptuous ſuites; You duety may, and ſhame too layd aſide, Diſturbe my priuacies, and I forſooth, Muſt be afeard euen to be angry at you. What ſhame is't to be maſtred by ſuch beautie? Who, but to ſerue you, comes, how wants he dutie? Or if it be a ſhame, the ſhame is yours; The fault is onely in your Eies, they drew me; Cauſe you were louely, therefore did I loue: O, if to Loue you, anger you ſo much, You ſhould not haue ſuch cheekes, nor lips to touch, You ſhould not haue your ſnow, nor currall ſpy'd; If you but looke on vs, in vaine you chide, We muſt not ſee your Face, nor heare your ſpeech: Now, whilſt you Loue forbid, you Loue doe teach. He doth better then I thought he would. I will not learne my beauties worth of you, I know you neither are the firſt, nor greateſt Whom it hath mou'd: He whom the World obayes Is fear'd with anger of my threatning Eyes. It is for you a farre off to adore it, And not to reach at it with ſawſie hands. Feare, is the Loue that's due to Gods, and Princes All this is but to edge his appetite. O doe not ſee thy faire in that falſe glaſſe Of outward difference; Looke into my heart, There, ſhalt thou ſee thy ſelfe, Inthroaned ſet In greater Maieſty, then all the pompe Of Rome, or Nero; Tis not the crowching awe, And Ceremony, with which we flatter Princes, That can to Loues true duties be compar'd. Sir, let me goe, or Ile make knowne your Loue To them, that ſhall requite it, but with hate. On, on, thou haſt the goale, the fort is beaten, Women are wonne when they begin to threaten. Your Nobleneſſe doth warrant me from that, Nor need you others helpe, to puniſh me, Who, by your forehead am condem'd, or free. They, that to be reuendg'd do bend their minde, Seeke alwayes recompence, in that ſame kind The wrong was done them; Loue was mine offence, In that reuenge, in that ſeeke recompence. Further to anſwere, will ſtill cauſe replyes, And thoſe as ill doe pleaſe me, as your ſelfe: If you'le an anſwere take, that's breefe, and true, I hate my ſelfe, If I be lou'd of you. What gone? but ſhe will come againe ſure, no; It paſſeth cleane my cunning, all my rules; For Womens wantonneſſe there is no rule. To take her, in the itching of her Luſt, A propper young-man putting forth himſelfe? Why Fate; There's Fate and hidden prouidence In cod piece matters. O vnhappie Man, What comfort haue I now Petronius? Counſell your ſelfe, Ile teach no more but learne.