Marmion, Shackerley · published 1632 · first performed or written 1631 [Dec] (Annals) comedy · Prince Charles's Men (second) · Salisbury Court T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.78 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
If your love Be not a Bawd unto some base desire, I do return the like. I know not how You may interpret it, but sure the law, And the command of nature, is no baseness, A thing that love himself has dignified, And in his rapes confessed the god of love The greater of the two, whom Kings have stooped to, We are allowed t' enjoy some stolen delights, So we be secret in't; for 'tis set down By such as in this art have skilful been. W' are not forbid to act, but to be seen. Upon these terms, I do deny you love me 'Twas lust that flattered sin, made love a god, And to get freedom for his thefts, they gave Madness the title of a Deity. For how can that be love, which seeks the ruin Of his own object, and the thing beloved. No, true love is a pure affection, That gives the soul transparent, and not that That's conversant in beastly appetites. Tell not me of your Philosophical love. I am a fool to linger, women's denial Is but an easy cruelty, and they Love to be forced sometimes. Pray know your distance. Come you dissemble, and you all are willing To what? There's none of you but feel the smart Of a libidinous sting; else wherefore are Those baits and strong allurements to entice us? Wherefore are all your sleekings, and your curlings, Crispings, and paintings, and your skin made soft, And your face smooth with ointments, than your gate, Confined to measure, and composed by art, Besides the wanton petulancy of your eyes, That scatter flames with doubtful motion, Unless it were to prostitute your beauty? I'll give account for none Sir, but myself. And that I'll speak before my Virgin Zone, Shall be untied by any unchaste hand, Nature shall suffer dissolution. But whate'er others be, methinks your worth Should not pretend to an ignoble action. Now by this light I think you'll moralize me. 'Tis my desire you should go better from me Than you came hither; you have some good parts But they are all exterior, and these breed A self conceit, an affectation in you, And what more odious? Some applaud you in it, As parasites, but wise men laugh at you. Will you employ those gifts that may commend you, And add a grace to goodness, had you any, In the pursuit of vice, that renders you, Worthy of nought but pity? I came as to A Whore, but shall return as from a Saint. Then leave to prosecute the foggy vapours Of a gross pleasure, that involves the soul In clouds of infamy. I wonder one So complete in the structure of his body, Should have his mind so disproportioned, The lineaments of virtue quite defaced. I am subdued, she has converted me. I see within the mirror of her goodness, The foulness of my folly: sweet instruct me. And I will style thee my Aegeria.
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)
If your loue Be not a Bawd unto ſome baſe deſire, I doe returne the like. I know not how You may interpret it, but ſure the law, And the command of nature, is no baſeneſſe, A thing that love himſelfe has dignified, And in his rapes confeſſ'd the god of loue The greater of the two, whō Kings haue ſtoopt to, We are allow'd t' inioy ſome ſtolne delights, So we be ſecret in't; for 'tis ſet downe By ſuch as in this art haue skilfull beene. W' are not forbid to act, but to be ſeene. Vpon theſe termes, I doe deny you loue me 'Twas luſt that flatter'd ſinne, made loue a god, And to get freedome for his thefts, they gaue Madneſſe the title of a Deitie. For how can that be loue, which ſeeks the ruine Of his owne obiect, and the thing beloued. No, true loue is a pure affection, That giues the ſoule tranſparent, and not that That's converſant in beaſtly appetites. Tell not me of your Philoſophicall loue. I am a foole to linger, womens denyall Is but an eaſie cruelty, and they Love to be forc'd ſometimes. Pray know your diſtance. Come you diſſemble, and you all are willing To what? There's none of you but feele the ſmart Of a libidinous ſting; elſe wherefore are Thoſe baits and ſtrong allurements to intice us? Wherefore are all your ſleekings, and your curlings, Criſpings, and paintings, and your skinne made ſoft, And your face ſmooth with ointments, then your gate, Confin'd to meaſure, and compos'd by art, Beſides the wanton petulancy of your eyes, That ſcatter flames with doubtfull motion, Vnleſſe it were to proſtitute your beauty? I'll giue account for none Sir, but my ſelfe. And that I'll ſpeake before my Virgin Zone, Shall be vnti'de by any unchaſte hand, Nature ſhall ſuffer diſſolution. But what ere others be, me thinkes your worth Should not pretend to an ignoble action. Now by this light I thinke you'll moralize mee. 'Tis my deſire you ſhould goe better from mee Then you came hither; you haue ſome good parts But they are all exteriour, and theſe breed A ſelfe conceit, an affectation in you, And what more odious? Some applaud you in it, As paraſites, but wiſe men laugh at you. Will you imploy thoſe gifts that may commend you, And adde a grace to goodneſſe, had you any, In the purſuit of vice, that renders you, Worthy of nought but pittie? I cme as to A Whore, but ſhall returne as from a Saint. Then leave to proſecute the foggy vapours Of a groſſe pleaſure, that involves the ſoule In clouds of infamie. I wonder one So compleat in the ſtructure of his bodie, Should haue his minde ſo diſproportion'd, The lineaments of vertue quite defac'd. I am ſubdu'd, ſhe has converted mee. I ſee within the mirror of her goodneſſe, The foulneſſe of my folly: ſweet inſtruct me. And I will ſtile thee my Aegeria.