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 0.85 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Ay me most wretched! What pleasure can there be in highest state, Which is so crossed in love, the greatest good, The Gods can tell how to bestow on men? Yet some do reckon it the greatest ill, A passion of the mind, formed in the fancy, And bred to be the worst disease of reason. They that think so, are such as love excludes, Men full of age, or foul deformity. No Thyrsis, let not us profane that deity: Love is divine, the seed of every thing, The cause why now we live, and all the world. Love is divine, for if religion Binds us to love, the Gods who never yet Revealed themselves in any thing to us But their bright Images, the fairest creatures, Who are our daily objects; loving them, we exercise religion: let us not Be scrupulous, or fear; the Gods have care Of us, and of our piety. But take heed, We cannot be too wary: many things Oppose our wills, yet if you think it fit, And this night's silence will so favour us, we'll go together: if we quit this Country, It is no matter, all the world to me Will be Arcadia, if I may enjoy Thy company, my love. No Sylvia, (Pardon me dear, if still I call you so) Enjoy your fortunes, think how much your honour Must suffer in this act: For me I find, It is enough that I have ever loved you: Now let me at the light of your bright eye, Burn like the bird whose fires renew her nest, I shall leave you behind me to the world, The Phoenix of true love and constancy: Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames, Than I shall be in mine, though they consume me. It must not be, for know my dearest shepherd, I shall not tell one minute after thee; I find my soul so linked to thine, that death Cannot divide us. What then shall we do? Shall we resolve to live thus, till we gaze Our eyes out first, and then lose all our senses In their succession? shall we strive to leave Our souls breathed forth upon each others lips? Come let us practise: this our envious Fates Cannot deny us. What a sight were this To meet her father? This would make him mad Indeed, and execute his rage himself. Madam, your father's here. Ha Delia! Cleander, is it thou? than I'm betrayed The second time, but must thy fortune make thee The instrument of my undoing still? Shepherd, I will not honour thee so much As to inquire thy name) thou hast done that Thou wilt pay dear for: And I hope thy death Will take away the blot of this disgrace thouhast laid upon the Princess.
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)
Ay me moſt wretched! What pleaſure can there be in higheſt ſtate, Which is ſo croſt in love, the greateſt good, The Gods can tell how to beſtow on men? Yet ſome do reckon it the greateſt ill, A paſſion of the minde, form'd in the fancy, And bred to be the worſt diſeaſe of reaſon. They that thinke ſo, are ſuch as love excludes, Men full of age, or foule deformitie. No Thyrſis, let not us prophane that deity: Love is divine, the ſeed of every thing, The cauſe why now we live, and all the world. Love is divine, for if religion Binds us to love, the Gods who never yet Reveald themſelves in any thing to us But their bright Images, the faireſt creatures, Who are our daily objects; loving them, Wee exerciſe religion: let us not Be ſcrupulous, or feare; the Gods have care Of us, and of our piety. But take heed, We cannot be too warie: many things Oppoſe our wills, yet if you thinke it fit, And this nights ſilence will ſo favour us, Weele goe together: if we quit this Countrie, It is no matter, all the world to me Will be Arcadia, if I may injoy Thy company, my love. No Sylvia, (Pardon mee deare, if ſtill I call you ſo) Enjoy your fortunes, thinke how much your honor Muſt ſuffer in this act: For me I finde, It is enough that I have ever lov'd you: Now let me at the light of your bright eie, Burne like the bird whoſe fires renew her neſt, I ſhall leave you behind me to the world, The Phenix of true love and conſtancy: Nor is that bird more glorious in her flames, Then I ſhall be in mine, though they conſume me. It muſt not be, for know my deareſt ſhepheard, I ſhall not tell one minute after thee; I finde my ſoule ſo linkt to thine, that death Cannot divide us. What then ſhall we do? Shall we reſolve to live thus, till we gaze Our eies out firſt, and then loſe all our ſenſes In their ſucceſſion? ſhall we ſtrive to leave Our ſoules breath'd forth upon each others lips? Come let us practiſe: this our envious Fates Cannot deny us. What a ſight were this To meete her father? This would make him mad Indeed, and execute his rage himſelfe. Madam, your father's here. Ha Delia! Cleander, is it thou? then I'me betraid The ſecond time, but muſt thy fortune make thee The inſtrument of my undoing ſtill? Shepheard, I will not honor thee ſo much As to enquire thy name) thou haſt don that Thou wilt pay deare for: And I hope thy death Will take away the blot of this diſgrace Th'haſt laid upon the Princeſſe.