The Spanish Bawd (Calisto and Meliboea) (Celestina) · chunk 93 of 205
Mabbe, James / Rojas, Fernando de · published 1631 · first performed or written 1631 (Annals) tragicomedy; literary play unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 399 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
How cold it is! I will go put on my clothes again: beshrew me if I am not cold at my very heart. Nay, by my fay shall you not; but if you will go into your bed, do; and so shall we talk more conveniently together. Yes indeed, I have need so to do; for I have felt myself very ill all this day; so that necessity, rather than laziness, hath made me thus early to take my sheets, in stead of my petticoat, to wrap about me. Sit not up, I pray any longer, but get you to bed, and cover yourself well with clothes, and sink lower in, so shall you be the sooner warm. O! how like a Siren dost thou look? How fair, how beautiful? O! how sweetly every thing smells about thee, when thou heavest and turnest thyself in thy bed? I assure you, every thing is in very good order: how well have I always been pleased with all thy things, and thy doings? You will not think, how this neatness, this handsomeness of yours in your lodging doth delight me; to see every thing so trim and tricksy about you; I promise you, I am even proud of it. O! how fresh dost thou look? What sheets? What quilts be here? What pillows? O! how white they be? Let me not live, if every thing near doth not like me wonderful well: My Pearl, my jewel of gold, see whether I love you or no, that I come to visit you at this time of night? Let my eye take its fill in beholding of thee; it does me much good to touch thee, and to look upon thee. Nay (good mother) leave, do not touch me; pray you do not, it doth but increase my pain. What pain (Sweet heart?) Tell me (pretty Duck.) Come, come, you do but jest, I am sure. jest? Let me never taste of joy, if I jest with you; it is scarce four hours since, that every minute I was ready to die with pain of the Mother, which rising in my breast, swelled up to my throat, and was ready to stifle me; that I still looked when I should leave the world; and therefore am not so gamesome and wanton as you think I am: now I have little mind of that.
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)
How cold it is! I will go put on my clothes againe: beshrew me if I am not cold at my very heart. Nay, by my fay shall you not; but if you will goe into your bed, doe; and so shall wee talke more conueniently together. Yes indeed, I haue neede so to doe; for I haue felt my selfe very ill all this day; so that necessity, rather then lazinesse, hath made me thus earely to take my sheetes, in stead of my petticoat, to wrap about me. Sit not vp, I pray any longer, but get you to bed, and couer your selfe well with clothes, and sinke lower in, so shall you be the sooner warme. O! how like a Syren doest thou looke? How faire, how beautifull? O! how sweetely euery thing smells about thee, when thou heauest and turnest thy selfe in thy bed? I assure you, euery thing is in very good order: how well haue I alwaies beene pleased with all thy things, and thy doings? You will not thinke, how this neatnesse, this handsomenesse of yours in your lodging doth delight me; to see euery thing so trimme and tricksie about you; I promise you, I am euen proud of it. O! how fresh dost thou looke? What sheets? What quilts be here? What pillowes? O! how white they be? Let me not liue, if euery thing neere doth not like me wonderfull well: My Pearle, my Iewell of gold, see whether I loue you or no, that I come to visit you at this time of night? Let my eye take its fill in beholding of thee; it does me much good to touch thee, and to looke vpon thee. Nay (good mother) leaue, doe not touch me; pray you doe not, it doth but increase my paine. What paine (Sweet heart?) Tell me (pretty Ducke.) Come, come, you doe but iest, I am sure. Iest? Let mee neuer taste of ioy, if I iest with you; it is scarce foure houres since, that euery minute I was ready to dye with paine of the Mother, which rising in my brest, swell'd vp to my throate, and was ready to stifle me; that I still lookt when I should leaue the world; and therefore am not so gamesome and wanton as you thinke I am: now I haue little mind of that.