The School of Compliment (Love Tricks) · chunk 3 of 44
Shirley, James · published 1631 · first performed or written 1625 [licensed for stage, Feb 11] (Annals) comedy · Lady Elizabeth's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Oh 'tis an easy work, for though it be Not to be pierced by the dull eye, whose beam Is spent on outward shapes, there is a way To make a search into hiddenst passage. I know you would not love to please your sense: A Tree that bears a ragged unleaved top In depth of Winter, may when Summer comes Speak by his fruit, he is not dead but youthful, Though once he showed no sap: my heart's a plant Kept down by colder thoughts, and doubtful fears, Your frowns like Winter storms make it seem dead, But yet it is not so, make it but yours, And you shall see it spring, and shoot forth leaves Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap Ascend to every part to make it green, And pay your love with fruit when Harvest comes. If my affection be suspected, make Experience of my loyalty, by some service Though full of danger, you shall know me better, And so discern the truth of what you see not. Then you confess your love is cold as yet, And Winter's in you heart. Mistake me not, Silena, for I say My heart is cold, not love. And yet your love is from your heart I'll warrant. Oh you are nimble to mistake, My heart is cold in your displeasures only, And yet my love is fervent, for your eye Casting out beams, maintains the flame it burns in. Again, sweet Love, My heart is not mine own, 'tis yours, you have it, And while it naked lies, not deigned your bosom To keep it warm, how can it be but cold, In danger to be frozen? blame not it, You only are in fault it hath no heat. Well sir, I know you have Rhetoric, but I Can without art give you a final answer. Oh stay, and think a while, I cannot relish You should say final, sweet, deliberate, It doth concern all the estate I have, I mean not dunghill treasure, but my life Doth stand or fall to it, if your answer be That you can love me, be it swift as lightning, But if you mean to kill me, and reject My so long love-devotions, which I have paid As to an Altar, stay a little longer, And let me count the riches I shall lose By one poor aery word, first give me back That part of Infortunio that is lost Within your love, play not the Tyrant with me. Y'are overweak to let your passions sway you: If I knew any thing I had of yours, I would not do you that injustice, sir, To let it stay with me, and for your love I cannot pay it back again with mine, Either release the debt, or I shall die in't, Your suit is fruitless, hopeless, pardon me, farewell.
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)
Oh 'tis an easie worke, for though it be Not to be pearced by the dull who beame Is spent on outward shapes, thr is a way To make a search into hiddenst passage. I know you would not loue to please your sense: A Tree that beares a ragged vnleau'd top In depth of Winter, may when Summer comes Speake by his fruit, he is not dead but youthfull, Though once he shew'd no sap: my heart's a plant Kept downe by colder thoughts, and doubtfull feares, Your frownes like Winter stormes make it seeme dead, But yet it is not so, make it but yours, And you shall see it spring, and shoot forth leaues Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap Ascend to euery part to make it greene, And pay your loue with fruit when Haruest comes. If my affection be suspected, make Experience of my loyalty, by some seruice Though full of danger, you shall know me better, And so discerne the truth of what you see not. Then you confesse your loue is cold as yet, And Winter's in you heart. Mistake me not, Silena, for I say My heart is cold, not loue. And yet your loue is from your heart Ile warrant. Oh you are nimble to mistake, My heart is cold in your displeasures onely, And yet my loue is feruent, for your eye Casting out beames, maintaines the flame it burnes in. Againe, sweete Loue, My heart is not mine owne, 'tis yours, you haue it, And while it naked lyes, not dain'd your bosome To keepe it warme, how can it be but cold, In danger to be frozen? blame not it, You onely are in fault it hath no heate. Well sir, I know you haue Rethoricke, but I Can without art giue you a finall answer. Oh stay, and thinke a while, I cannot relish You should say finall, sweet, deliberate, It doth concerne all the estate I haue, I meane not dunghill treasure, but my life Doth stand or fall to it, if your answer be That you can loue me, be it swift as lightning, But if you meane to kill me, and reiect My so long loue-deuotions, which I haue pay'd As to an Altar, stay a little longer, And let me count the riches I shall lose▪ By one poore aëry word, first giue me backe That part of Infortunio that is lost Within your loue, play not the Tyrant with me. Y'are ouer-weake to let your passions sway you: If I knew any thing I had of yours, I would not doe you that iniustice, sir, To let it stay with me, and for your loue I cannot pay it backe againe with mine, Either release the debt, or I shall dye in't, Your suite is fruitlesse, hopelesse, pardon me, farewell.