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 0.86 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
No, I love her As I do others, with whom I compare her. But you that love with such intemperance, Make of your love a glass, wherein you see Each thing much greater than indeed it is: My loves too cold you say, but I am sure Yours is too hot for any to endure: A mean perhaps twixt these I might approve You might, if there were any mean in love. But whilst we talk thus, see, the flame has caught you, your beauteous flame Nerina is at hand Dorinda with her, dare you stay th'encounter. No let's with draw, and watch her where she goes. DOrinda, I have missed the chase today, Such is my chance, and he that lodged the dear, Told me it was the fairest in these Woods. The Gods do love you sure, that have left Your thoughts so free for sport; mine are not so. Thou art in love, I warrant, art thou not? That angry God pursues me in his fury, And forces me to love where I am scorned. Hapless Dorinda, why should he despise thee? Many a Swain, and many a rural God Have sought thy favours, and have sought in vain, Now thou art justly punished with disdain. Trust me Sweetheart, I cannot choose but wonder, To think that one of such a comely grace (I do not flatter you) could sue to any For love, who are much fitter to be loved: Scorn him as much as he does thee, for men Love us no more, when we love them again. Ah good Nerina, you have spoken truth: It may warn other Nymphs by my example How they profess their loves to any man: I'm past the cure, he that wounded me, Has left me quite disarmed, and robbed me of All those defensive arts which men will say Are natural and proper to our sex: I cannot change a face, or weep one tear, Or laugh against my will, so violently My Fate hath thrust me to this love, that all My faculties confess their weakness, and My flame is got so much above my reach, I can not put it out, nor smother it. Alas poor wench, tell me who is the man Made up of so much rigid cruelty, That I may shun him whatsoe'er I go. Do not you know him? No. I hear he boasts To every shepherd, and to every Nymph, How much I love him. Then it must be Daphnis. Venus forgive me, if I do disclose him, But he will do't himself: 'tis he Nerina. Daphnis, that woes my father to win me, He is my daily suitor, now I know How much he owes to pity, and to thee: Until he pay that debt, I shall despise him.
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)
No, I loue her As I do others, with whom I compare her. But you that loue with ſuch intemperance, Make of your love a glaſſe, wherein you ſee Each thing much greater then indeed it is: My loves too cold you ſay, but I am ſure Yours is too hot for any to endure: A meane perhaps 'twixt theſe I might approve You might, if there were any meane in love. But whilſt we talke thus, ſee, the flame has caught you, your beauteous flame Nerina is at hand Dorinda with her, dare you ſtay th'encounter. No let's with draw, and watch her where ſhe gos. DOrinda, I have miſt the chaſe to day, Such is my chance, and he that lodg'd the deere, Told me it was the faireſt in theſe Woods. The Gods doe love you ſure, that have left Your thoughts ſo free for ſport; mine are not ſo. Thou art in love, I warrant, art thou not? That angry God purſues me in his fury, And forces me to love where I am ſcorn'd. Hapleſſe Dorinda, why ſhould he deſpiſe thee? Many a Swaine, and many a rurall God Have ſought thy favors, and have ſought in vaine, Now thou art juſtly puniſht with diſdaine. Truſt me Sweet-heart, I cannot chooſe but wonder, To thinke that one of ſuch a comely grace (I doe not flatter you) could ſue to any For love, who are much fitter to be lov'd: Scorne him aſmuch as he does thee, for men Love us no more, when we love them agen. Ah good Nerina, you have ſpoken truth: It may warne other Nymphs by my example How they profeſſe their loves to any man: I'me paſt the cure, he that wounded me, Has left me quite diſarm'd, and robb'd me of All thoſe defenſive arts which men will ſay Are naturall and proper to our ſexe: I cannot change a face, or weepe one teare, Or laugh againſt my will, ſo violently My Fate hath thruſt me to this love, that all My faculties confeſſe their weakneſſe, and My flame is got ſo much above my reach, can not put it out, nor ſmother it. Alas poore wench, tell me who is the man Made up of ſo much rigid cruelty, That I may ſhun him whereſoere I goe. Do not you know him? No. I heare he boaſts To every ſhepheard, and to every Nymph, How much I love him. Then it muſt be Daphnis. Venus forgive me, if I do diſcloſe him, But he will do't himſelfe: Tis he Nerina. Daphnis, that woes my father to win me, He is my daily ſuitor, now I know How much he owes to pitty, and to thee: Untill he pay that debt, I ſhall deſpiſe him.