Rutter, Joseph · published 1635 · first performed or written 1634 [1633-1635] (Annals) pastoral · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.80 · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
We never durst keep company with women, Nor they with us, each one did carefully Attend his charge: And when the time was come That we grew ripe in years, and were stayed youths, Our Fathers would provide us wives: we did not Carve for ourselves, as now a days they do: But now our children think themselves as wise, Nay wiser than their Fathers, and will rule 'em: They can no sooner peep out of the shell, But they must love forsooth; I would fain know, Whether 'twere fit a Maid should be in love, (I speak now of that skittish girl my daughter Before she ask her Father's leave and liking? 'tis true Charinus, 'twere not fit indeed: Who should bestow the daughter, but the Father? But Shepherds did you never hear, that once There was an Age, the nearest to the Gods: An age we rather praise than imitate; When no man's will, nor woman's was enforced, To any bent, but its own motion: Each followed Nature's laws, and by instinct Did love the fairest, and enjoyed their wishes; Love than not tied to any interest Of blood or fortune, hastened to his end, Without control, nor did the Shepherd number Her sheep that was his choice, but every grace That did adorn her beauteous mind or face; Riches with love then were not valued, Pure uncompounded love, that could despise The whole world's riches for a Mistress eyes. Pray tell me Daphnis, you are young and handsome, The lover of our fairest Nymph Nerina: Would you for all that fruitful Sicilie Can yield, or all the wealth of Persia, Change one poor lock of your fair Mistress hair, Whilst she is yours, and you her shepherd are. Would she were mine, I'd ask no portion. Spoke like a Lover of the ancient stamp. Son, son, she shall be yours: why? am not I Her Father, she my daughter; may not I Bestow her where I please? Yes if she like The man, she will bestow herself, ne'er fear it. What? she bestow herself without my leave? No, no, Mirtillus, you mistake my daughter. I cannot get her once to think of marriage, And truly I do muse to see a wench, That in all other things (although I say it) Has wit at will, can pin her sheep in fold As well as any, knows when to drive them home: And there she can do twenty things as well: Yet when I speak to her of marriage, She turns the head, she'll be a Dryad, she Or one of those fond Nymphs of Diane's train. Old man, believe her not, she means not so, She loves to keep the thing for which she is So much beloved, I mean her Maidenhead; Which, whilst she has, she knows to play the Tyrant, And make us slaves unto her scornful looks: For beauty then itself most justifies, When it is courted, if not loved, it dies.
nodes 367–427 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 7 of 39 in this edition
Length
498 words · 653 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.798 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T24 · seed 44: T25 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
We never durſt keepe company with women, Nor they with us, each one did carefully Attend his charge: And when the time was come That we grew ripe in yeares, and were ſtaid youths, Our Fathers would provide us wives: we did not Carve for our ſelves, as now a daies they doe: But now our children thinke themſelves as wiſe, Nay wiſer then their Fathers, and will rule 'em: They can no ſooner peepe out of the ſhell, But they muſt love forſooth; I would faine know, Whether 'twere fit a Maide ſhould be in love, (I ſpeak now of that skittiſh girle my daughter Before ſhe aske her Fathers leave and liking? Tis true Charinus, 'twere not fit indeed: Who ſhould beſtow the daughter, but the Father? But Shepheards did you never heare, that once There was an Age, the neareſt to the Gods: An age we rather praiſe then imitate; When no mans will, nor womans was inforc'd, To any bent, but its owne motion: Each follow'd Natures lawes, and by inſtinct Did love the faireſt, and injoy'd their wiſhes; Love then not ty'd to any intereſt Of blood or fortune, haſtned to his end, Without controll, nor did the Shepheard number Her ſheepe that was his choice, but every grace That did adorne her beauteous minde or face; Riches with love then were not valued, Pure uncompounded love, that could deſpiſe The whole worlds riches for a Miſtreſſe eyes. Pray tell me Daphnis, you are young and handſome, The lover of our faireſt Nymph Nerina: Would you for all that fruitfull Sicilie Can yeeld, or all the wealth of Perſia, Change one poore locke of your faire Miſtreſſe haire, Whilſt ſhe is yours, and you her ſhepheard are. Would ſhe were mine, I'de aske no portion. Spoke like a Lover of the ancient ſtampe. Sonne, ſonne, ſhe ſhall be yours: why? am not I Her Father, ſhe my daughter; may not I Beſtow her where I pleaſe? Yes if ſhe like The man, ſhe will beſtow her ſelfe, ne're feare it. What? ſhe beſtow herſelfe without my leave? No, no, Mirtillus, you miſtake my daughter. I cannot get her once to thinke of marriage, And truely I do muſe to ſee a wench, That in all other things (although I ſay it) Has wit at will, can pin her ſheepe in fold As well as any, knowes when to drive them home: And there ſhe can do twenty things as well: Yet when I ſpeake to her of marriage, She turnes the head, ſhee'le be a Dryade, ſhe Or one of thoſe fond Nymphs of Dians traine. Old man, beleeve her not, ſhe meanes not ſo, She loves to keepe the thing for which ſhe is So much belov'd, I meane her Maidenhead; Which, whilſt ſhe has, ſhe knowes to play the Tyrant, And make us ſlaves unto her ſcornefull lookes: For beauty then it ſelfe moſt juſtifies, When it is courted, if not lov'd, it dies.