Cowley, Abraham · published 1638 · first performed or written 1633 [c.1633-1636] (Annals) pastoral T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.86 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Oh! you're courtly Sir. But your fine words will not defend my sheep, Or stop them if they wander; Let me go. Are you so fearful of your cattle's loss? Yet so neglectful of my perishing, (For without you how can I choose but perish?) Though I myself were most contemptible, Yet for this reason only, that I love And honour you, I deserve more than they do. What would you do, that thus you urge my stay? Nothing I swear that should offend a Saint, Nothing which can call up thy maiden blood To lend thy face a blush, nothing which chaste And virtuous sisters can deny their Brothers, I do confess I love you, but the fire In which Iove courted his ambitious Mistress, Or that by holy men on Altars kindled, Is not so pure as mine is; I would only Gaze thus upon thee; feed my hungry eyes Sometimes with those bright tresses, which the wind Far happier than I, plays up and down in, And sometimes with thy cheeks, those rosy twins; Then gently touch thy hand, and often kissed it, Till thou thyself shouldst check my modesty And yield thy lips, but further, though thou shouldst Like other maids with weak resistance ask it, (Which I am sure thou wilt not) I'd not offer Till lawful Hymen join us both, and give A licence unto my desires. Which I Need not bestow much language to oppose, Fortune and nature have forbidden it, When they made me a rude and homely wench You (if your clothes and carriage be not liars,) By state and birth a Gentleman. I hope I may without suspicion of a boaster Say that I am so, else my love were impudence For do you think wise Nature did intend You for a Shepherdess, when she bestowed Such pains in your creation? would she fetch The perfumes of Arabia for your breath? Or ransack Pestum of her choicest roses T'adorn your cheeks? would she bereave the rock Of coral for your lips? and catch two stars As they were falling, which she formed your eyes of? Would she herself turn workwoman and spin Threads of the finest gold to be your tresses? Or rob the Great to make one Microcosm? And having finished quite the beauteous wonder, Hide it from public view and admiration! No; she would set it on some pyramid, To be the spectacle of many eyes: And it doth grieve me that my niggard fortune Raised me not up to higher eminency, Not that I am ambitious of such honours But that through them I might be made more worthy To enjoy you. You are for aught I see Too great already; I will either live An undefiled virgin as I am Or if I marry, not belie my birth, But join myself to some plain virtuous shepherd (For Callidorus is so, and I will be either his or nobody's.) Pray hear me.
nodes 998–1062 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 41 in this edition
Length
495 words · 624 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.859 (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)
Oh! you're courtly Sir. But your fine words will not defend my sheepe, Or stop them if they wander; Let me goe. Are you so fearefull of your cattels losse? Yet so neglectfull of my perishing, (For without you how can I choose but perish?) Though I my selfe were most contemptible, Yet for this reason only, that I love And honour you, I deserve more then they doe. What would you doe, that thus you urge my stay? Nothing I sweare that should offend a Saint, Nothing which can call up thy maiden bloud To lend thy face a blush, nothing which chaste And vertuous sisters can deny their Brothers, I doe confesse I love you, but the fire In which Iove courted his ambitious Mistris, Or that by holy men on Altars kindled, Is not so pure as mine is; I would only Gaze thus upon thee; feed my hungry eyes Sometimes with those bright tresses, which the wind Farre happier then I, playes up and downe in, And sometimes with thy cheekes, those rosy twins; Then gently touch thy hand, and often kist it, Till thou thy selfe shouldst checke my modesty And yeeld thy lips, but further, though thou should'st Like other maids with weake resistance aske it, (Which I am sure thou wilt not) I'de not offer Till lawfull Hymen joyne us both, and give A licence unto my desires. Which I Need not bestow much language to oppose, Fortune and nature have forbidden it, When they made me a rude and homely wench You (if your clothes and cariage be not lyers,) By state and birth a Gentleman. I hope I may without suspition of a boaster Say that I am so, else my love were impudence For doe you thinke wise Nature did intend You for a Shepheardesse, when she bestow'd Such paines in your creation? would she fetch The perfumes of Arabia for your breath? Or ransack Pestum of her choycest roses T'adorne your cheekes? would she bereave the rock Of corall for your lips? and catch two starres As they were falling, which she form'd your eyes of? Would she her selfe turne work-woman and spinne Threeds of the finest gold to be your tresses? Or rob the Great to make one Microcosme? And having finisht quite the beauteous wonder, Hide it from publique view and admiration! No; she would set it on some Pyramide, To be the spectacle of many eyes: And it doth grieve me that my niggard fortune Rays'd me not up to higher eminency, Not that I am ambitious of such honors But that through them I might be made more worthy To enjoy you. You are for ought I see Too great already; I will either live An undefiled virgin as I am Or if I marry, not belye my birth, But joyne my selfe to some plaine vertuous shepheard (For Callidorus is so, and I will be either his or no bodyes.) Pray heare me.