Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
When thou hast done, prithee come kiss me, Cosma, I see thou art a pure virgin, thou never didst this office before, thou art no quicker at it. What Cosma? what? no Cosma! what a wooden wench? here's a true love knot with a witness. O faithless Cosma! O witless Rimbombo! O Nymph! O fishers! O shepherds! O Satyrs! O Cyclops! Ha, ha ha: O love! O wit! O tree! O girdle! O platterface! O oyster eyes! Thou bitch, thou witch, thou spawn of a mermaid. Thou AEtna, thou Chaos, thou Hell: nay tug and tug, my virginity is tough and strong enough: O for, some Nymphs fishers or shepherds to bait this ork. I'll out and call in some bandog: so ho, so ho, ho, ho. The knots are so many, the girdle so strong, and the tree stands so fast. O anger! O shame! here she'll bring in all the country to laugh me to death, hide yet thy face with some of these lower boughs. So ho, so ho: O dogged fortune! not one Nymph to be found not one feat fisher! not one: but that feating fisher that is ready to wing his sea token net on the Cyclops blockhead. Away thou monstrous woman, oh, oh. Away thou monstrous man's ah ha heigh. How now! what's that? what, have I another witness of my folly? what gobbet of man's flesh grows upon this tree? I'll have a graft of this myrtle tree, it bears fine love worms, on the stock, a maggot would up in a Cobweb, on the bough a barnacle, which ere long will fall and turn to a goose: now Cupid's gosling, now on your barehead knee, go beg at Cupid's door. Ah cursed Cupid, I'll no more of thy service, I had rather fight with nine orks, ha, hei, au. Come down thou fished bit; my mouth shall catch thee. Gentle Cosma, I'll forgive thee all, & love thee yet, if thou wilt help to reach my walking stick; i'll make my young Ork-catcher believe he shall be his grandsires heir. Your staff? marry and shalt, it's a pretty pole to bang those boughs withal, and when thou dost it, do but gape, and that rotten plum will fall into thy mouth. Nay, I know of old I should be devoured. Thy staff, Rimbombo, is not for a weak Nymph to lift. Yet a little more to this hand: Oh oh, my shoulder's thunderstruck! O coward Ioue, to strike me on the back, but waste our fisher lubber? is he escaped our hands? Why Cancrone, rise, i'll help thee. Good Charon carry me over gently, my bones are sore, and your boat side so hard. Give me thy hand, i'll waft thee. I tell thee Charon, I have nothing to give thee for ferriage, i'll help to row, I have been a poor fisher while I lived I would I were there too, but that I should sink Charon's boat with a tree at my back.
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)
When thou hast done, preethee come kisse me, Cosma, I see thou art a pure virgin, thou neuer didst this office before, thou art no quicker at it. What Cosma? what? no Cosma! what a wooden wench? here's a true loue knot with a witnes. O faithlesse Cosma! O witlesse Rimbombo! O Nymph! O fishers! O shepheards! O Satyrs! O Cyclops! Ha, ha ha: O loue! O wit! O tree! O girdle! O platterface! O oyster eyes! Thou bitch, thou witch, thou spawne of a mermaid. Thou AEtna, thou Chaos, thou Hell: nay tugge and tugge, my virginitie is tough and strong enough: O for, some Nymphs fishers or shepheards to baite this Orke. I'le out and call in some bandog: so ho, so ho, ho, ho. The knots are so many, the girdle so strong, and the tree stands so fast. O anger! O shame! here shee'll bring in all the country to laugh mee to death, hide yet thy face with some of these lower boughs. So ho, so ho: O dogged fortune! not one Nymph to be found not one feate fisher! not one: but that feating fisher that is readie to wing his sea token net on the Cyclops blockhead. Away thou monstrous woman, oh, oh Away thou monstrous mans ah ha hey. How now! what's that? what, haue I another witnes of my folly? what gobbet of mans flesh grows vpon this tree? Ile haue a graft of this mitle tree, it beares fine loue wormes, on the socke, a maggot wou'd vp in a Cobweb, on the bough a barnacle, which ere long will fall and turne to a goose: now Cupids gosling, now on your bare-head knee, goe begge at Cupids doore. Ah cursed Cupid i'le no more of thy seruice, I had rather fight with nine Orkes, ha, hei, au. Come downe thou fished bit; my mouth shall catch thee. Gentle Csma, i'le forgiue thee all, & loue thee yet, if thou wilt helpe to reach my walking sticke; i'le make my young Orke-ketcher beleeue he shall bee his grandsires heire. Your staffe? marry and shalt, it's a pretty pole to bang those boughes withall, and when thou doest it, doe but gape, and that rotten plumme will fall into thy mouth. Nay, I know of old I should be deuoured. Thy staffe, Rimbombo, is not for a weak Nymph to lift. Yet a little more to this hand: Oh oh, my shoulder's thunderstrook! O coward Ioue, to strike me on the backe, bu wast our fisher lubber? is he escap't our hands? VVhy Cancrone, rise, i'le helpe thee. Good Charon carry me ouer gently, my bones are sore, and your boate side so hard. Giue me thy hand, i'le waft thee. I tell thee Charon, I haue nothing to giue thee for ferriage, i'le helpe to row, I haue beene a poore fisher while I liu'd I would I were there too, but that I should sinke Charons boate with a tree at my backe.