Rutter, Joseph · published 1635 · first performed or written 1634 [1633-1635] (Annals) pastoral · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.75 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Why? who can say Mirtillus does not love, Mirtillus, he who has employed his youth Ever in service of the fairest Nymphs. Mirtillus cannot love. No, gentle Hylas? This Ribbon, and this hair you see me wear Are they not ensigns of a lover? say What shepherdess whom ever Swain thought fair, Has not Mirtillus courted, and obtained Some favour from? but you will think because I do not fold my arms, and sigh, and spend The days the Gods have given me to rejoice, In whining passion, walking still alone, Now proud with hopes, then cast down with despair, Unequal to myself in every thing, I cannot love. No, Hylas, know I love Dorinda, Cloris, Amarillis, all Whom ever love did to his Altars call: And when this Mistress frowns, I am content To take another, when that flame is spent By time, or put out by a Rival, strait A third supplies her place, perhaps more worthy, If less, because she loves, I'll think her so. Alas, Mirtillus, I do pity thee, Pity the error which thou wanderest in, That thinkst thou lov'st, and know'st not what it is, Why what is love say you, if mine be not? I know Mirtillus, that no lover yet Purchased a lasting pleasure without grief; For love has gall in it, as well as honey, And so compounded, that whosoe'er will taste The sweets of it, must take the bitter too, Out of both which is made our constancy, You that embrace the false delights alone, Are a feigned lover, or more truly none. I know not what you mean by constancy, I'm sure I love the fairest. Still you err, For if you loved the fairest, none had been The object of your choice but my Nerina, Nerina, she the glory of these woods The only subject of all Shepherd's song. She has her share of beauty with the rest, And I confess she's fit for love as any; But why she only should take up your breast, And shut out all that have a right as good, Whose equal, or transcendent beauty pleads As just a title to't, as hers can do, I cannot reach the reason, but admire Your faith, and what you praise, your constancy. Mirtillus, though I know your stubborn heart Could never entertain a lover's thought, Yet did I think you would have been more tender How you profaned a name so sacred as Nerina's is, whom never any Swain Nor rural God, nor satire, though he be Of savage kind would ever violate; Nerina in whose form love ever dwells Attended by the Graces, which do range Themselves in order 'bout her comely face, Whose breasts without are hills of whitest snow, Within the seat of blameless modesty, Regard of honour, and pure chastity Nor may a loose thought ever harbour there To tempt such lovers as you seem to be. Is it for that you slight her?
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)
Why? who can ſay Mirtillus does not love, Mirtillus, he who has imploy'd his youth Ever in ſervice of the faireſt Nymphs. Mirtillus cannot love. No, gentle Hylas? This Ribband, and this haire you ſee me weare Are they not enſignes of a lover? ſay What ſhepheardeſſe whom ever Swaine thought faire, Has not Mirtillus courted, and obtaind Some favour from? but you will thinke becauſe I do not fold my armes, and ſigh, and ſpend The dayes the Gods have given me to rejoice, In whining paſſion, walking ſtill alone, Now proud with hopes, then caſt downe with deſpaire, Unequall to my ſelfe in every thing, I cannot love. No, Hylas, know I love Dorinda, Cloris, Amarillis, all Whom ever love did to his Altars call: And when this Miſtreſſe frownes, I am content To take another, when that flame is ſpent By time, or put out by a Rivall, ſtraite A third ſupplies her place, perhaps more worthy, If leſſe, becauſe ſhe loves, Ile thinke her ſo. Alas, Mirtillus, I doe pitty thee, Pittie the error which thou wandreſt in, That thinkſt thou lov'ſt, and know'ſt not what it is, Why what is love ſay you, if mine be not? I know Mirtillus, that no lover yet Purchaſ'd a laſting pleaſure without griefe; For love has gall in it, as well as honie, And ſo compounded, that who ſo ere will taſte The ſweetes of it, muſt take the bitter too, Out of both which is made our conſtancy, You that embrace the falſe delights alone, Are a faign'd lover, or more truly none. I know not what you meane by conſtancy, I'me ſure I loue the faireſt. Still you erre, For if you lov'd the faireſt, none had bin The object of your choiſe but my Nerina, Nerina, ſhe the glory of theſe woods The only ſubject of all ſhepheards ſong. She has her ſhare of beautie with the reſt, And I confeſſe ſhe's fit for love as any; But why ſhe onely ſhould take up your breaſt, And ſhut out all that have a right as good, Whoſe equall, or tranſcendent beautie pleades As juſt a title to't, as hers can do, I cannot reach the reaſon, but admire Your faith, and what you praiſe, your conſtancie. Mirtillus, though I know your ſtubborn heart Could never entertaine a lovers thought, Yet did I thinke you would have bin more tender How you prophan'd a name ſo ſacred as Nerina's is, whom never any Swaine Nor rurall God, nor Satyr, though he be Of ſavage kinde would ever violate; Nerina in whoſe forme love ever dwells Attended by the Graces, which do range Themſelves in order 'bout her comely face, Whoſe breaſts without are hills of whiteſt ſnow, Within the ſeate of blameleſſe modeſtie, Regard of honor, and pure chaſtity Nor may a looſe thought ever harbor there To tempt ſuch lovers as you ſeeme to be. Is it for that you ſlight her?