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 · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
And this happy minute Has cleared my soul too of the same disease. Then do as Tyndarus did, and go with me, we'll drink a pottle to Liberty, and another Pottle to th' Asotides, and a pottle to the Tyndarides, And a fourth to the She-philosophers cleped— Techmessides. PAmphilus, welcome: Shake thy sorrows off, Why in this age of freedom dost thou sit A captived wretch? I do not feel the weight Of clay about me. Am I not all air? Or of some quicker element? I have purged out All that was earth about me, and walk now As free a soul as in the separation. Brother, if any stream of joy can mix With such a sea of grief as mine, and lose not His native sweetness, 'tis a joy for you. But I am all bitterness. Now, Asotus, The Comedy begins. When will my sufferings Make my atonement with my angry goddess? Do you celestial forms retain an anger Eternal as your substance? O fine hair! An amorous brow, a pretty lovely eye, A most delicious cheek, a handsome nose! How Nectar-sweet his lips are? and his teeth, Like two fair ivory pales, enclose a tongue Made up of harmony. Then he has a chin So full of ravishing dimples, it were pity A beard should overgrow it: and his feet Past all expression comely. Do not add Contempt to cruelty. Madam, to insult Upon a prostrate wretch, is harder tyranny Than to have made him so. And then a shoulder Straight as the pine or cedar. Courteous death Take wings, thou art too slow. I could not hear Those precious parts defamed, but I durst fight In the just quarrel. 'Tis a touchy Tiger. How happy am I that have scaped the dens Of these she-wolves! Now my safety lies Upon a ticklish point— a woman's secrecy. Madam, my reputation is dear to me. In what a maze I wander! how my sorrows Run in a labyrinth! I'll unriddle it. St, St. The honour of a man at arms. Then know, thou perjured Pamphilus, I have learned Neglect from thee. Madam, I am all love: And if the violence of my flame had met With any heart but marble, I had taught it Some spark of my affection. Now it heats. No doubt the flame is violent, and must work Upon a breast so capable as mine. I think Cupid be turned juggler. Here's nothing but Hocas pocas, Praestò be gone, Come again Jack; and such feats of activity. But I must tell you, you are false and perjured, Or, what is more, a coward. Tell me, Sir, For I suppose you of a nobler soul. If you should hear your mistress by rude tongues Wronged in the graces both of mind and beauty, Could you have suffered it?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And this happy minute Has clear'd my soul too of the same disease. Then do as Tyndarus did, and go with me, Wee'l drink a pottle to Libertie, and another Pottle to th' Asotides, and a pottle to the Tyndarides, And a fourth to the She-philosophers ycleped—Techmessides. PAmphilus, welcome: Shake thy sorrows off, Why in this age of freedome dost thou sit A captiv'd wretch? I do not feel the weight Of clay about me. Am I not all aire? Or of some quicker element? I have purg'd out All that was earth about me, and walk now As free a soul as in the separation. Brother, if any stream of joy can mix With such a sea of grief as mine, and loose not His native sweetnesse, 'tis a joy for you. But I am all bitternesse. Now, Asotus, The Comedie begins. When will my sufferings Make my atonement with my angry goddesse? Do you celestiall forms retain an anger Eternall as your substance? O fine hair! An amorous brow, a prety lovely eye, A most delicious cheek, a handsome nose! How Nectar-sweet his lips are? and his teeth, Like two fair ivory pales, inclose a tongue Made up of harmonie. Then he has a chin So full of ravishing dimples, it were pity A beard should overgrow it: and his feet Past all expression comely. Do not adde Contempt to cruelty. Madam, to insult Upon a prostrate wretch, is harder tyranny Then to have made him so. And then a shoulder Straight as the pine or cedar. Courteous death Take wings, thou art too slow. I could not heare Those precious parts defam'd, but I durst fight In the just quarrell. 'Tis a touchy Tiger. How happy am I that have scap't the dens Of these she-wolves! Now my safetie lies Upon a ticklish point—a womans secrecie. Madam, my reputation is deare to me. In what a maze I wander! how my sorrows Run in a labyrinth! I'le unriddle it. St, St. The honour of a man at arms. Then know, thou perjur'd Pamphilus, I have learnt Neglect from thee. Madam, I am all love: And if the violence of my flame had met With any heart but marble, I had taught it Some spark of my affection. Now it heats. No doubt the flame is violent, and must work Upon a breast so capable as mine. I think Cupid be turn'd jugler. Here's nothing but Hocas pocas, Praestò be gon, Come again Jack; and such feats of activitie. But I must tell you, you are false and perjur'd, Or, what is more, a coward. Tell me, Sir, For I suppose you of a nobler soul. If you should heare your mistresse by rude tongues Wrong'd in the graces both of minde and beauty, Could you have suffered it?