Jonson, Ben · published 1631 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Jan 19] (Annals) comedy · King's Men T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.83 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
And she will act 'em subtly. She fails me else. Nor do they trespass within bounds of pardon, That giving way, and licence to their love, Divest him of his noblest ornaments, Which are his modesty, and shamefacedness: And so they do, that have unfit designs, Upon the parties, they pretend to love. For, what's more monstrous, more a prodigy, Then to hear me protest truth of affection Unto a person that I would dishonour? And what's a more dishonour, then defacing Another's good, with forfeiting mine own? And drawing on a fellowship of sin; From note of which, though (for a while) we may Be both kept safe, by caution, yet the conscience Cannot be cleansed. For what was hitherto Called by the name of love, becomes destroyed Then, with the fact: the innocency lost, The bating of affection soon will follow: And Love is never true, that is not lasting. No more than any can be pure, or perfect, That entertains more than one object. Dixi. O speak, and speak for ever! let min'eare Be feasted still, and filled with this banquet! No sense can ever surfeit on such truth! It is the marrow of all lovers' tenants! Who hath read Plato, Heliodore, or Tatius, Sidney, D'Urse, or all love's Fathers, like him? He, is there the Master of the Sentences, Their School, their Commentary, Text, and Gloss, And breathes the true divinity of Love! Excellent actor! how she hits this passion! Where have I lived, in heresy, so long Out o'the Congregation of Love, And stood irregular, by all his Canons? But do you think she plays? Upo'my Sovereignty, Mark her anon. I shake, and am half jealous. What penance shall I do, to be received, And reconciled, to the Church of Love? Go on procession, barefoot, to his Image, And say some hundred penitential verses, There, out of Chaucer's Troilus, and Cressid? Or to his mother's shrine, vow a wax-candle As large as the Town Maypole is, and pay it! Enjoin me any thing this Court thinks fit, For I have trespassed, and blasphemed Love. I have, indeed, despised his Deity, Whom (till this miracle wrought on me) I knew not. Now I adore Love, and would kiss the rushes That bear this reverend Gentleman, his Priest, If that would expiate— but, I fear it will not. For, tho' he be somewhat struck in years, and old Enough to be my father, he is wise, And only wise men love, the other covet. I could begin to be in love with him, But will not tell him yet, because I hope T'enjoy the other hour, with more delight, And prove him farther. Most Socratic Lady! Or, if you will Ironic! gi' you joy O' you Platonic love here, Mr. Lovel. But pay him his first kiss, yet, i'the Court, Which is a debt, and due: For the hour's run.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And she will act 'hem subtilly. She fails me else. Nor doe they trespasse within bounds of pardon, That giuing way, and licence to their loue, Di-uest him of his noblest ornaments, Which are his modesty, and shamefac'tnesse: And so they doe, that haue vnfit designes, Vpon the parties, they pretend to loue. For, what's more monstrous, more a prodigie, Then to heare me protest truth of affection Vnto person that I would dishonor? And what's a more dishonor, then defacing Anothers good, with forfeiting mine owne? And drawing on a fellowship of sinne; From note of which, though (for a while) we may Be both kept safe, by caution, yet the conscience Cannot be cleansd. For what was hitherto Cal'd by the name of loue, becomes destroyd Then, with the fact: the innocency lost, The bating of affection soone will follow: And Loue is neuer true, that is not lasting. No more then any can be pure, or perfect, That entertaines more then one obiect. Dixi. O speake, and speake for euer! let min'eare Be feasted still, and filled with this banquet! No sense can euer surfet on such truth! It is the marrow of all louers tenents! Who hath read Plato, Heliodore, or Tatius, Sydney, , or all Loues Fathers, like him? He, is there the Master of the Sentences, Their Schoole, their Commentary, Text, and Glosse, And breathes the true diuinity of Loue! Excellent actor! how she hits this passion! Where haue I liu'd, in heresie, so long Out o'the Congregation of Loue, And stood irregular, by all his Cnons? But doe you thinke she playes? Vpo'my Soueraignty, Marke her anon. I shake, and am halfe iealous. What penance shall I doe, to be receiu'd, And reconcil'd, to the Church of Loue? Goe on procession, bare-foot, to his Image, And say some hundred penitentiall verses, There, out of Chaucers Troilus, and Cride? Or to his mothers shrine, vow a Waxe-candle As large as the Towne May-pole is, and pay it! Enioyne me any thing this Court thinks fit, For I haue trespass'd, and blasphemed Loue. I haue, indeed, despis'd his Deity, Whom (till this miracle wrought on me) I knew not. Now I adore Loue, and would kisse the rushes That beare this reuerend Gentleman, his Priest, If that would expiate—but, I feare it will not. For, tho' he be somewhat strooke in yeares, and old Enough to be my father, he is wise, And onely wise men loue, the other couet. I could begin to be in loue with him, But will not tell him yet, because I hope T'enioy the other houre, with more delight, And proue him farther. Most Scratick Lady! Or, if you will Ironick! gi' you ioy O' you Platonick loue here, Mr Lovel. But pay him his first kisse, yet, i'the Court, Which is a debt, and due: For the houre's run.