Hausted, Peter · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [Mar 19] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Love you? Now all the God's forbid it. I love you? My better Angel guard me from such a sin. Should I love you, a Thief? A thief? A thief I and the worst of Thieves—* Villain thou liest. But why a Thief? Speak. My divining soul Tells me that Lucius is not far from hence. Ha! it is he, I will observe a little Lady, I'll tell you, since you do so long To hear your praises trumpeted to the world, First, thou hast robbed thy Father, thine own Father, Of all that little stock of virtue and goodness Which nature gave him, and (most covetous) Hast poured it to thy greater heap; besides Thou hast undone thy Sister, stolen from her All that was beautiful and lovely in her; That fair majestic straightness which attracts The eyes of thousands to admire, Was hers; Those rosy buds that open on your cheeks Were cropped out of her garden; upon her ruins Is that fair edifice of thine erected: Last, thou hast stolen from me and from Neander (Which are not two that have deserved the worst Of thee in all the world) our happiness All our content, our joy, our very selves. You see how amiable a creature you are, How well deserving love. Should I love you? I'd first embrace a Succubus, court the plague, Or kiss a cloud that's big with lightning— (heavens, Have ye no thunderbolts in store to strike This sacrilegious head that thus blasphemes One of your dearest pieces?—) I love you? Whose face dressed up in that same innocent lawn Shows like a dunghill set about with Lilies. (Thou art a perjured wretch)— should I love you! Whose eyes are like two fired barrels set Upon a Beacon only to astonish And fright the neighbouring people—* (oh my heart! It is a hundred thousand miles betwixt Thee and my tongue)— what do you meditate on? The nearest way unto the grave. The grave? If thou wouldst have the shortest cut to hell, To that same receptacle of black souls, (Where such as die for love do walk in shades As dark as were their thoughts, whilst they lived here) Lend me thy hand and I will show it thee. Let it be speedy then good Lucius. Why thou art at thy journey's end already. Where's that? 'Mongst the departed souls, Where the dire furies have their habitation, 'Tis in this breast. Why dost not open then And let me in?— Oh if they live so here, Farewell for ever to the upper world. Ha? does he embrace her? sure it cannot be. Away thou prostitute, immodest, go. Who is't dares say I must not love this man? Or you, or I must leave this place. Stay Lucius. 'Tis I that will be gone, the most unhappy Of all, on whom nature hath written woman; Forsaken Constantina, thou and I Will have a Dialogue in tears anon. Neander! Lucius!
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)
Loue you? Now all the God's forbid it. I loue you? My better Angell guard mee from ſuch a ſinne. Should I loue you, a Thiefe? A theife? A theife I and the worſt of Thieues— * Villaine thou lieſt. But why a Thiefe? Speake. My diuining ſoule Tels mee that Lucius is not farre from hence. Ha! it is he, I will obſerue a little Lady, Ile tell you, ſince you doe ſo long To heare your prayſes trumpeted to the world, Firſt, thou haſt rob'd thy Father, thine owne Father, Of all that little ſtock of vertue and goodneſſe VVhich nature gaue him, and (moſt couetous) Haſt powr'd it to thy greater heape; beſides Thou haſt vndone thy Siſter, ſtolne from her All that was beautifull and louely in her; That faire maieſtick ſtraightneſſe which attracts The eyes of thouſands to admire, Was hers; Thoſe roſie buds that open on your cheekes Were cropt out of her garden; vpon her ruines Is that faire Aedifice of thine erected: Laſt, thou haſt ſtolne from mee and from Neander (Which are not two that haue deſeru'd the worſt Of thee in all the world) our happineſſe All our content, our ioy, our very ſelues. You ſee how amiable a creature you are, How well deſeruing loue. Should I loue you? I'de firſt embrace a Succubus, court the plague, Or kiſſe a cloude that's big with lightning— (heavens, Haue yee no thunderbolts in ſtore to ſtrike This ſacrilegious head that thus blaſpheames One of your deareſt pieces? —) I loue you? Whoſe face dreſt vp in that ſame innocent lawne Showes like a dunghill ſet about with Lillies. * (Thou art a periur'd wretch) — ſhould I loue you! Whoſe eyes are like two fired barrells ſet Vpon a Beacon onely to aſtoniſh And fright the neighbouring people—* (oh my heart! It is a hundred thouſand miles betwixt Thee and my tongue) — what doe you meditate on? The neareſt way vnto the graue. The graue? If thou wouldſt haue the ſhorteſt cut to hell, To that ſame receptacle of black ſoules, (Where ſuch as dye for loue doe walke in ſhades As darke as were their thoughts, whilſt they liu'd here) Lend me thy hand and I will ſhew it thee. Let it be ſpeedy then good Lucius. Why thou art at thy iourneyes end already. Where's that? 'Mongſt the departed ſoules, Where the dire furies haue their habitation, 'Tis in this breaſt. Why doeſt not open then And let me in? — Oh if they liue ſo here, Farewell for euer to the vpper world. Ha? does he embrace her? ſure it cannot be. Away thou proſtitute, immodeſt, goe. Who is't dares ſay I muſt not loue this man? Or you, or I muſt leaue this place. Stay Lucius. 'Tis I that will be gone, the moſt vnhappy Of all, on whom nature hath written woman; Forſaken Conſtantina, thou and I Will haue a Dialogue in teares anon. Neander! Lucius!