Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.71 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
First you must anagrammatise her name, then sympathize your own. Tize, zize, thize. I shall ne'er hit that. For an anagram I'll fit you: Cosma a smock. Pretty. For the sympathy of your own name but thus, your name Cancrone bids you counterfeit the counter-creeping crab; and go backward to her. Do I look like a crab? I had rather go forward to a Nymph. Thirdly, because every fisher is borne under Pisces, therefore the sign is in the foot with you: you must come therefore with one foot bare. ay but shall I not catch cold and cough and spoil my part? It must be the right foot: and then seest thou this myrtle tree? all my arrows are made of the wood of it, thou must in her sight get up and gather the highest bough of it. ay but what shall I do with the bough? O the bough? why, setting thus a pretty while, you must wrap a cockle garland about it, and then when the poor lass melts and consumes with thy love— Then I'll throw it at her, & come down to her, shall I not? Excellent well, I see thou art inspired. Nay I can take it, if you put it to me. But the just nick when thou must throw it is, when she says I die, I cry, I lie. I die, I cry, I lie. I would have her lie, but not die, but will you make her come indeed? I and in her best clothes too. Nay 'tis no such matter for clothes, but what must I say? I had almost forgot it. Nothing but a short charm, which I'll teach you as we go on afore, I'll follow you. Let me see: backward? Blockhead. bareleg? Beetlepate. Cockleshell? coxcomb. Boughs? Bussard. The town's ours. I no triumph I no triumph I'll cool my hot lover, he shall sit on a perch for a stale, now must I be uncupidate, & shortly appear here Cosmafied, it shall be hard but with the same limetwig I'll catch a bigger bird than this. First I will serve myself, my mistress after; My bait is seeming love, my prey true laughter. What art, strength, wit can tame a fish or fly? The least of creatures used to liberty, With loss of life shake off base captive chains, And with restraint all life disdains. But I, ah fool, yield up myself a slave, And what they shun, by death do basely crave: My grief more than my folly, who deplore That which all others use to wish before: My love loves too too much too many, For while she liketh all, she loves not any. Love, let my prayers yet thus far only move thee, Let me her falsely, or she truly love me. See where she comes; and that so bright a sun Should have no sphere, no certain race to run: I'll stand and overhear her.
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)
First you must anagramatize her name, then sympathize your owne. Tize, zize, thize. I shall ne're hit that. For an anagram I'le fit you: Cosma a smocke. Prettie. For the sympathie of your owne name but thus, your name Cancrone bids you counterfeite the counter-creeping crab; and goe backward to her. Doe I looke like a crab? I had rather goe forward to a Nymph. Thirdly, because euery fisher is borne vnder Pisces, therefore the signe is in the foote with you: you must come therefore with one foote bare. I but shall I not catch cold and cough and spoile my part? It mut be the right foote: and then seet thou this mirtle tree? all my arrowes are made of the wood of it, thou must in her sight get vp and gather the highest bough of it. I but what shall I doe with the bough? O the bough? why, setting thus prettie while, you must wrappe a cockle garland about it, and then when the poore lasse melts and consumes with thy loue— Then I'le throw it at her, & come downe to her, shall I not Excellent well, I see thou art inspir'd. Nay I an take it, if you put it to mee. But the iust nicke when thou must throw it is, when she says I die, I cry, I lie. I die, I cry, I lye. I would haue her lie, but not die, but will you make her come indeede? I and in her best clothes too. Nay 'tis no such matter for clothes, but what must I say? I had almost forgot it. Nothing but a short charme, which I'le teach you as we goe on afore, I'le follow you. Let me see: backward? Blockhead. Barelegge? Beetlepate. Cockleshell? Coxecombe. Boughs? Bussard. The towne's ours. I no triumph I no triumph I'le coole my hot louer, he shall sit on a perch for a stale, now must I be vncupidate, & shortly appeare here Cosmafied, it shall be hard but with the same limetwig I'le catch a bigger bird then this. First I will serue my selfe, my mistris after; My baite is seeming loue, my prey true laughter. What art, strength, wit can tame a fish or flye? The least of creatures vs'd to liberty, With losse of life shake off base captiue chaines, And with restraint all life disdaines. But I, ah foole, yeld vp my selfe a slaue, And what they shunne, by death doe basely craue: My griefe more then my folly, who deplore That which all others vse to wish before: My loue loues too too much too many, For while she liketh all, she loues not any. Loue, let my prayers yet thus farre onely moue thee, Let me her falsly, or he truely loue me. See where she comes; and that so bright a sunne Should haue no spheare, no certaine race to runne: I'le stand and ouer-heare her.