Rutter, Joseph · published 1635 · first performed or written 1634 [1633-1635] (Annals) pastoral · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 464 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
No time? who bid thee hasten to the ruin Of thy poor father, and thy family? The messages which come to do us hurt, Are speedy: but the good come slowly on, But Sir, remember what a strait we're in: It will concern us, to invent some way To save my sister, though the shepherd die; He will deserve it for his bold attempt. Go take thy way, whither thou wilt thyself, That way is best, which leads me to my grave. What luck is this? This is more haste than speed: I am resolved (though my life lie at stake) To stand the fury of th'enraged King: Who knows but he may be as sorry for His sudden act, as I for mine. 'Tis here To save her, though it cost her lover dear. NAy stay a little Thyrsis, we are safe, My wary keepers now are with the King. Madam, for my poor self I do not fear, But when I think on you, and how your name, And state that is so eminent, must needs Receive a certain scandal, and foul blot, If we be seen together, blame me not, Though I do fear or doubt: What cruel fate Angry with men, that gave us hearts alike, And fortunes so asunder; you're a Cedar, I a poor shrub, that may look up unto you With adoration, but ne'er reach your height. But Thyrsis I do love you; love and death Do not much differ, they make all things equal: The Monuments of Kings may show for them What they have been, but look upon their dust, The colour, and the weight of theirs, and beggars, You'll find the same: and if 'mongst living men Nature has printed in the face of many, The characters of nobleness and worth, Whose fortune envies them a worthy place, In birth, or honour. When the greatest men Whom she has courted, bear the marks of slaves, Love sure will look on those, and lay aside The Accidents of wealth and noble blood, And in our thoughts will equal them with Kings. 'Tis true divinest Lady, that the souls Of all men are alike, of the same substance By the same maker into all infused, But yet the several matters which they work on, How different they are I need not tell you: And as these outward Organs give our souls Or more, or less room, as they are contrived, To show their lustre; so again comes fortune, And darkens them, to whom the Gods have given A soul divine, and body capable Of that divinity, and excellence: But 'tis the order of the Fates, whose causes We must not look into: But you dear Madam, Nature, and fortune have conspired to make The happiest alive.
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)
No time? who bid thee haſten to the ruine Of thy poore father, and thy family? The meſſages which come to do us hurt, Are ſpeedy: but the good come ſlowly on, But Sir, remember what a ſtraight we're in: It will concerne us, to invent ſome way To ſave my ſiſter, though the ſhepheard die; He will deſerve it for his bold attempt. Go take thy way, whither thou wilt thy ſelfe, That way is beſt, which leads me to my grave. What luck is this? This is more haſte then ſpeed: I am reſolv'd (though my life lie at ſtake) To ſtand the fury of th'inraged King: Who knowes but he may be as ſorry for His ſuddaine act, as I for mine. 'Tis here To ſave her, though it coſt her lover deare. NAy ſtay a little Thyrſis, we are ſafe, My warie keepers now are with the King. Madam, for my poore ſelfe I doe not feare, But when I thinke on you, and how your name, And ſtate that is ſo eminent, muſt needs Receive a certaine ſcandall, and foule blot, If we be ſeene together, blame me not, Though I do feare or doubt: What cruell fate Angry with men, that gave us hearts alike, And fortunes ſo aſunder; you're a Cedar, I a poore ſhrub, that may looke up unto you With adoration, but ne're reach your height. But Thyrſis I do love you; love and death Do not much differ, they make all things equall: The Monuments of Kings may ſhew for them What they have bin, but looke upon their duſt, The color, and the weight of theirs, and beggers, You'le finde the ſame: and if 'mongſt living men Nature has printed in the face of many, The characters of nobleneſſe and worth, Whoſe fortune envies them a worthy place, In birth, or honor. When the greateſt men Whom ſhe has courted, beare the marks of ſlaves, Love ſure will looke on thoſe, and lay aſide The Accidents of wealth and noble blood, And in our thoughts wil equall them with Kings. 'Tis true divineſt Lady, that the ſoules Of all men are alike, of the ſame ſubſtance By the ſame maker into all infus'd, But yet the ſeverall matters which they worke on, How different they are I neede not tell you: And as theſe outward Organs give our ſoules Or more, or leſſe roome, as they are contriv'd, To ſhew their luſtre; ſo againe comes fortune, And darkens them, to whom the Gods have given A ſoule divine, and body capable Of that divinity, and excellence: But 'tis the order of the Fates, whoſe cauſes We muſt not looke into: But you deare Madam, Nature, and fortune have conſpir'd to make The happieſt alive.