The Sad Shepherd, or A Tale of Robin Hood · chunk 19 of 19
Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1637 [c.1612-1637] (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Wither intent you? Amy is recovered, Feels not such grief as she complained of, lately: This Maiden hath been with her from her Mother Maudlin, the cunning Woman, who hath sent her Herbs for her head, and Simples of that nature, Have wrought upon her a miraculous Cure; Settled her brain, to all our wish, and wonder! So instantly? you know, I now but left her. Possessed with such a fit, almost to he frenzy; Yourself too feared her, Marian; and did urge My haste, to seek out Karol, and to bring him. I did so. But the skill of that wise woman And her great charity of doing good Hath by the ready hand of this deft lass Her daughter, wrought effects, beyond belief, And to astonishment; we can but thank And praise, and be amazed, while we tell it. 'Tis strange, that any art should so help nature In her extremes. Than, it appears most real When th'other is deficient. Wherhfore, stay you Discoursing here, and haste not with your succours To poor afflicted Amie, that so needs them? She is recovered well, your Marian told us But now here: See, she is returned t' affirm it! My Marian? Robin-hood? Is he here? Stay! What was't you ha' told my friend? Help, murder, help. You will not rob me Outlaw? Thief, restore My belt that ye have broken! Yes, come near, Not i' your gripe. Was this the charmed circle? The Copy that so cozened, and deceived us? I'll carry hence the trophy of your spoils. My men shall hunt you too upon the start, And course you sound. I shall make 'em sport And sand some home, without their legs, or arms. I'll teach 'em to climb Styles, leap Ditches, Ponds, And lie i' the Waters, if they follow me. Out murmuring Hag. I must use all my powers, Lay all my wits to piecing of this loss. Things run unluckily, Where's my Puck-hairy? Hath he forsook me? At your beck, Madam. O Puck, my Goblin! I have lost my belt, The strong thief, Robin Outlaw, forced it from me. They are other Clouds and blacker threat you, Dame; You must be wary, and pull in your sails, And yield unto the wether of the tempest. You think your power's infinite as your malice; And would do all your anger prompts you to: But you must wait occasions, and obey them: Sail in an eggshell, make a straw your mast, A Cobweb all your Cloth, and pass, unseen, Till you have scaped the rocks that are about you. What rock's about me? I do love, Madam, To show you all your dangers, when you are passed 'hem. Come, follow me, I'll once more be your pilot, And you shall thank me. Lucky, my loved Goblin! Where are you gaang, now? Unto my tree, To see my Mistress. Gang thy gait, and try Thy turns, with better luck, or hung thy sel'.
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)
Whither intend you? Amy is recover'd, Feeles no ſuch griefe as ſhee complain'd of, lately: This Maiden hath been with her from her Mother Maudlin, the cunning Woman, who hath ſent her Herbes for her head, and Simples of that nature, Have wrought upon her a miraculous Cure; Setled her braine, to all our wiſh, and wonder! So inſtantly? you know, I now but left her. Poſſeſs'd with ſuch a fit, almoſt to 'a phrenſie; Your ſelfe too fear'd her, Marian; and did urge My haſte, to ſeeke out Karol, and to bring him. I did ſo. But the skill of that wiſe woeman And her great charitie of doeing good Hath by the readie hand of this deft laſſe Her daughter, wrought effects, beyond beleife, And to aſtoniſhment; wee can but thanke And praiſe, and be amazed, while wee tell it. 'Tis ſtrange, that any art ſhould ſo helpe nature In her extremes. Then, it appeares moſt reall When th'other is deficient. Wherefore, ſtay you Diſcourſing here, and haſte not with your ſuccours To poore afflicted Amie, that ſo needes them? Shee is recover'd well, your Marian told us But now here: See, ſhee is return'd t' affirme it! My Marian? Robin-hood? Is hee here? Stay! What was't you ha' told my friend? Helpe, murder, helpe. You will not rob me Out-law? Theife, reſtore My belt that yee have broken! Yes, come neere, Not i' your gripe. Was this the charmed circle? The Copy that ſo couzen'd, and deceiv'd us? I'le carry hence the trophie of your ſpoiles. My men ſhall hunt you too upon the ſtart, And courſe you ſoundly. I ſhall make 'hem ſport And ſend ſome home, without their leggs, or armes. I'le teach 'hem to climbe Stiles, leape Ditches, Ponds, And lie i' the Waters, if they follow mee. Out murmuring Hagge. I muſt uſe all my powers, Lay all my witts to piecing of this loſſe. Things run unluckily, Where's my Puck-hairy? Hath he forſooke mee? At your beck, Madame. O Puck, my Goblin! I have loſt my belt, The ſtrong theife, Robin Out-law, forc'd it from mee. They are other Cloudes and blacker threat you, Dame; You muſt be wary, and pull in your ſailes, And yeeld unto the wether of the tempeſt. You thinke your power's infinite as your malice; And would do all your anger prompts you to: But you muſt wait occaſions, and obey them: Saile in an egg-ſhell, make a ſtraw your maſt, A Cobweb all your Cloth, and paſſe, unſeen, Till you have ſcap'd the rockes that are about you. What rock's about mee? I do love, Madam, To ſhew you all your dangers, when you are paſt 'hem. Come, follow mee, I'll once more be your pilot, And you ſhall thanke mee. Lucky, my lov'd Goblin! Where are you gaang, now? Unto my tree, To ſee my Maiſtres. Gang thy gait, and try Thy turnes, with better luck, or hang thy ſel'.