Randolph, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1632 [Mar 20] (Annals) comedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Dear, dear self! How fares the darling of the age? Say, what success? Did not I tell you, Sir, that I was born With a cawl upon my face? My mother wrapped me In her own smock. The females fall before me Like trembling doves before the towering hawk, While o'er the spoils in triumph thus I walk. So he takes virgins with his amorous eye, As spider's web entraps the tender fly. True, Tutor, true: for I woo 'em with cobweb-lawn. I know the rest of women may be frail, Brittle as glasses: but my Evadne stands A rock of Parian marble, firm and pure. The crystal may be tainted, and rude feet Profane the milky way: The Phoenix self, Although but one,— no virgin: ere I harbour Dishonourable thoughts of that bright maid! No Tyndarus, reflect upon thyself, Turn thine eyes inward, see thine own unworthiness That does thy thoughts to this suspicion move: She loves thee not, 'cause thou deserv'st no love. I do not know where the enchantment lies, Whether it be the magic of mine eyes, Or lip, or cheek, or brow:— but I suppose The conjuration chiefly in my nose. Evadne, Sir, is mine, and wooed me first. Troth 'tis a pretty lass; and for a woman She courts in handsome words, and now and then A polite phrase, and such a feeling appetite, That having not a heart of flint or steel, As mine's an easier temper,— I consented To give her, in the way of alms, a night Or so:— You guess the meaning. Too too well. And must her lust break into open flames, To lend the world a light to view her shames? Could not she taste her Page? or secretly Admit a tuft-backed Groom into her arms? Or practise with her Doctor, and take Physic In a close room? But thus, good heavens, to take Her stallions up i'th' streets! While sin is modest It may be healed; but if it once grow impudent, The fester spreads above all hopes of cure. I never could observe so strange a boldness In my Evadne. I have seen her cheeks Blush, as if modesty herself had there Lain in a bed of coral.— But how soon Is virtue lost in women! Mistake us not, Dear Tyndarus, Evadne may be chaste To all the world— but him. And as for him, Diana's self, or any stricter goddess Would lose the Virgin-zone. I have instilled Magnetic force into him, that attracts Their iron hearts, and fashions them like steel Upon the anvil, to what shape he please. He knows the minute, the precise one minute, No woman can hold out in. Come to me, Sir, I'll teach you in one fortnight by Astrology To make each Burgess in all Thebes— your cuckold. As silly lambs do fill the wolves black jaw, And fearful hearts the generous lions paw, As whales eat lesser fries; so may you see The matrons, maids, and widows stoop to me.
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)
Deare, deare self! How fares the darling of the age? Say, what successe? Did not I tell you, Sir, that I was born With a caul upon my face? My mother wrapt me In her own smock. The females fall before me Like trembling doves before the towring hawk, While o're the spoils in triumph thus I walk. So he takes virgins with his amorous eye, As spiders web intraps the tender flie. True, Tutour, true: for I wooe 'um with cobweb-lawn. I know the rest of women may be frail, Brittle as glasses: but my Evadne stands A rock of Parian marble, firm and pure. The crystall may be tainted, and rude feet Profane the milkie way: The Phoenix self, Although but one,—no virgin: E're I harbour Dishonourable thoughts of that bright maid! No Tyndarus, reflect upon thy self, Turn thine eyes inward, see thine own unworthinesse That does thy thoughts to this suspicion move: She loves thee not, 'cause thou deserv'st no love. I do not know where the inchantment lies, Whether it be the magick of mine eyes, Or lip, or cheek, or brow:—but I suppose The conjuration chiefly in my nose. Evadne, Sir, is mine, and woo'd me first. Troth 'tis a pretie lasse; and for a woman She courts in handsome words, and now and then A polite phrase, and such a feeling appetite, That having not a heart of flint or steel, As mine's an easier temper,—I consented To give her, in the way of almes, a night Or so:—You guesse the meaning. Too too well. And must her lust break into open flames, To lend the world a light to view her shames? Could not she taste her Page? or secretly Admit a tuft-back'd Groom into her arms? Or practise with her Doctour, and take Physick In a close room? But thus, good heavens, to take Her stallions up i'th' streets! While sin is modest It may be healed; but if it once grow impudent, The fester spreads above all hopes of cure. I never could observe so strange a boldnesse In my Evadne. I have seen her cheeks Blush, as if modesty her self had there Layn in a bed of corall. —But how soon Is vertue lost in women! Mistake us not, Deare Tyndarus, Evadne may be chaste To all the world—but him. And as for him, Diana's self, or any stricter goddesse Would loose the Virgin-zone. I have instill'd Magnetique force into him, that attracts Their iron hearts, and fashions them like steel Upon the anvile, to what shape he please. He knows the minute, the precise one minute, No woman can hold out in. Come to me, Sir, I'le teach you in one fortnight by Astrologie To make each Burgesse in all Thebes—your cuckold. As sillie lambes do fill the wolves black jaw, And fearfull harts the generous lions paw, As whales eat lesser fries; so may you see The matrons, maids, and widows stoop to mee.