Rutter, Joseph · published 1635 · first performed or written 1634 [1633-1635] (Annals) pastoral · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
But I have heard, old men do sometimes love. They dote, Mirtillus, give it the right name; In old men's bloods Cupid does quench his flames. But as we go, I'll tell thee, not to love At all is best; but if you needs must love, Love one, and seek no further, thou wilt find Enough of her, if once she prove unkind. THere is no way to avoid the shame of this: Each Shepherd's boy that sings unto his flock, Will make me the scorned subject of his song. Had you been sudden as I counselled you, You had not failed: but you young men do never Go through with any thing. For heaven's sake, Call not that wicked deed to my remembrance. I do repent me, that I e'er began it: I would not for a world have ended it: Nerina's chaste, and fair, and I a villain. Leave me, I pray, for something tells me, you Did first advise me to this damned act. Nay, if you prize my friendship at this rate, I'll leave you to your penance. This old man Is full of malice, nothing troubles him; The ills that he has done, fly from his thoughts, And he rejoices that he did, them quaintly: I have begun my youth, as if I meant To have my age so punished as his is, Who's this? Dorinda? I have done her wrong: I sued for love to her first, which obtained, I stuck disgraces on her; let me ask Forgiveness now, for 'twere too much to hope, That she should love one stained with such a deed As I have done, so foul and impious. Great love, if yet thou art not satisfied With all the wrongs I have sustained for thee: My blood, I hope thy anger will appease, Which thou mayst glut thyself with. Gentle Nymph. I've been too gentle, do not mock me with't: O Daphnis, is it you? this is not well, To mock me thus; your looks when armed with frowns, Gave not my heart so deep a wound as this. I mean no scorn, I come to ask your pardon For what I've done already, not to heap More sins upon my head. 'Tis very strange. But true Dorinda, will you spit upon me? Take your revenge, for I have well deserved it. But is this serious Daphnis? oh take heed, Crack not my heart with such a load of grief And scorn, so pressed as this is; if you do, The Gods will punish it: for though they have Neglected me thus long, they will revenge Such injuries as these. My many ills Discredit my repentance: if my words Can find no faith with you, believe my tears, Indeed they are not feigned. Even so you looked When first you stole my heart: but I forgive you, whate'er become of me; I still must love you.
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)
But I have heard, old men doe ſometimes love. They dote, Mirtillus, give it the right name; In old mens bloods Cupid does quench his flames. But as we goe, Ile tell thee, not to love At all is beſt; but if you needs muſt love, Love one, and ſeeke no further, thou wilt finde Enough of her, if once ſhe prove unkinde. THere is no way to avoide the ſhame of this: Each ſhepheards boy that ſings unto his flocke, Will make me the ſcorn'd ſubject of his ſong. Had you bin ſuddaine as I counſail'd you, You had not faild: but you young men doe never Goe through with any thing. For heavens ſake, Call not that wicked deede to my remembrance. I do repent me, that I e're beganne it: I would not for a world have ended it: Nerina's chaſte, and faire, and I a villaine. Leave me, I pray, for ſomething tells me, you Did firſt adviſe me to this damned act. Nay, if you prize my friendſhip at this rate, I'le leave you to your pennance. This old man Is full of malice, nothing troubles him; The ills that he has done, flie from his thoughts, And he rejoyces that he did, them queintly: I have begun my youth, as if I meant To have my age ſo puniſht as his is, Who's this? Dorinda? I have done her wrong: I ſu'de for love to her firſt, which obtain'd, I ſtucke diſgraces on her; let me aske Forgiveneſſe now, for 'twere too much to hope, That ſhe ſhould love one ſtain'd with ſuch a deed As I have done, ſo foule and impious. Great love, if yet thou art not ſatiſfied With all the wrongs I have ſuſtain'd for thee: My blood, I hope thy anger will appeaſe, Which thou maiſt glut thy ſelfe with. Gentle Nymph. I've beene too gentle, doe not mocke me with't: O Daphnis, is it you? this is not well, To mocke me thus; your looks when arm'd with frownes, Gave not my heart ſo deepe a wound as this. I meane no ſcorne, I come to aske your pardon For what I've done already, not to heape More ſinnes upon my head. 'Tis very ſtrange. But true Dorinda, will you ſpit upon me? Take your revenge, for I have well deſerv'd it. But is this ſerious Daphnis? oh take heed, Cracke not my heart with ſuch a loade of griefe And ſcorne, ſo preſt as this is; if you doe, The Gods will puniſh it: for though they have Neglected me thus long, they will revenge Such injuries as theſe. My many ills Diſcredit my repentance: if my words Can finde no faith with you, beleeve my teares, Indeed they are not feign'd. Even ſo you look't When firſt you ſtole my heart: but I forgive you, What ere become of me; I ſtill muſt love you.