The Spanish Bawd (Calisto and Meliboea) (Celestina) · chunk 162 of 205
Mabbe, James / Rojas, Fernando de · published 1631 · first performed or written 1631 (Annals) tragicomedy; literary play unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 372 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
And yet in doing as I do, methinks, it argues against me, that I hold in small esteem that great and singular favour, which I have received at thy hands. I will now no longer think on grief; I will no longer entertain friendship with sorrow. O incomparable good! O insatiable contentment! And what could I have asked more of heaven, in requital of all my merits in this life (if they be any) than that which I have already received? Why should I not consent myself with so great a blessing? which being so, it stands not with reason that I should be ungrateful unto him, who hath conferred upon me so great a good: I will therefore acknowledge it, I will not with care craze my understanding, lest that being lost, I should fall from so high and so glorious a possession. I desire no other honour, no other glory, no other riches, no other father nor mother, no other friends nor kinsfolks. In the day, I will abide in my chamber: In the night, in that sweet Paradise, in that pleasant grove, that green plot of ground amidst those sweet trees and fresh and delightsome walks. O night of sweet rest and quiet! O that thou hadst made thy return! O bright shining Phoebus, drive on thy Chariot apace, make haste to thy journey's end. O comfortable and delightful stars, break your wont, and appear before your time, & out of your wonted and continued course! O dull and slow clock, I wish to see thee burned in the quickest and loveliest fire that Love can make. For didst thou but expect that which I do, when thou strikest twelve, thou wouldst never endure to be tied to the will of the master that made thee! O ye hiemetical and winterly months, which now hide your heads, and live in darkness and obscurity! Why haste ye not to cut off these tedious days with your longer nights? methinks, it is almost a year, since I saw that sweet comfort and most delightful refreshing of my travels. But what do I ask? Why like a fool do I, out of impatiency desire that which never either was or shall be?
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)
And yet in doing as I doe, me thinks, it argues against mee, that I hold in small esteeme that great and singular fauour, which I haue receiued at thy hands. I will now no longer thinke on griefe; I will no longer entertaine friendship with sorrow. O incomparable good! O insatiable contentment! And what could I haue asked more of heauen, in requitall of all my merits in this life (if they be any) then that which I haue already receiued? Why should I not concent my selfe with so great a blessing? which being so, it stands not with reason that I should be vngratefull vnto him, who hath conferr'd vpon mee so great a good: I will therefore acknowledge it, I will not with care craze my vnderstanding, lest that being lost, I should fall from so high and so glorious a possession. I desire no other honour, no other glory, no other riches, no other father nor mother, no other friends nor kinsfolkes. In the day, I will abide in my chamber: In the night, in that sweete Paradise, in that pleasant groue, that greene plot of ground amidst those sweete trees and fresh and delightsome walks. O night of sweet rest and quiet! O that thou hadst made thy returne! O bright shining Phoebus, driue on thy Charriot apace, make haste to thy iourneys end. O comfortable and delightfull starres, breake your wont, and appeare before your time, & out of your wonted and continued course! O dull and slow clocke, I wish to see thee burned in the quickest and loueliest fire that Loue can make. For didst thou but expect that which I doe, when thou strikest twelue, thou wouldst neuer indure to bee tyed to the will of the master that made thee! O yee hyematicall and winterly months, which now hide your heads, and liue in darknes and obscurity! Why haste yee not to cut off these tedious daies with your longer nights? Me thinks, it is almost a yeere, since I saw that sweete comfort and most delightfull refreshing of my trauels. But what doe I aske? Why like a foole doe I, out of impatiencie desire that which neuer either was or shall bee?