Phillis and Amyntas (Ivychurch) (Amyntas' Pastoral) · chunk 4 of 30
Fraunce, Abraham / Tasso, Torquato · published 1591 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
But what can not time effect? What can not a lovers Continual wooing, long serving, daily deserving Bring by degrees at length, at length, to a fortunate ending? Phillis, I must confess, at last I began to be yielding Unto a loves conquest: and these arms made me be yielding, Long patience, kindness, sighs, tears, importunate askings. Then did a night, one night, one short night teach me a lesson, Which many thousand days would never let me be learning: Then did I quickly repent, and quickly bewray my repentance, And say thus with tears: Now farewell mighty Diana, Bowes and shafts I renounce, and brutish life I abandon. So, I do hope, one day, thy gentlemynded Amyntas Shall with abundant tears make thy hard heart to be tender; And why should not I hope, when I see just matter of hoping? Is not Amyntas fair? is he not loved of many Lasses? Doth not he love Phillis? yet Phillis love's not Amyntas: And yet, alas, neither thy hate, nor love of an other Can withdraw his love: And, if thou look to thy gentry, As sweet Cydippe is known to be truly thy mother, Cydippe daughter to the sacred God that abideth In this silver brook; so, father of hapless Amyntas Was good Sylvanus, Sylvanus son to the great Pan, Pan the shepherds great God, that rul's and reign's by the forest. And, if Phillis chance to behold her face in a fountain, Phillis will not seem more fair than fair Amaryllis: And Amaryllis fair loves gentleminded Amyntas; And Amaryllis love is still contemned of Amyntas, For that, Phillis love still rests in soul of Amyntas, Although Phillis alas hates her truelover Amyntas. Now suppose for a while (God grant it prove but a suppose) That Phillis sour looks drive of this love of Amyntas, And Amaryllis love draw on this love of Amyntas, And that Amyntas kiss, kiss and embrace Amaryllis, And laugh at Phillis: what then will Phillis imagine? Well: let Amyntas deal as seemeth best to Amyntas, And love somewhere else; his love hath made me to hate him. Loue breed hate? Sweet Sire of a most unnatural offspring And vile degenerate bastard: but when will a white swan Hatch any coal-black crow? or meek sheep foster a Tiger? Daphne leave this talk, or look no more for an answer: His love breeds my hate, when I hate to afford what he loveth: he's not a friend, but a foe, that my virgynyty seeketh: Why then, stifneckt bull is a foe, not a friend to a heifer, And to a Turtledove, not a friend, but a foe is a Turtle. Why then sweet springetyme breeds hate and works many mischifs, Sweetesmyling spring-time, that wills each thing to be loving, World and all in world; o see how sweetly the Pigeon There with a murmur sweet his copsemate sweet is a wooing. Mark that Nightingale, which hops fro the bry'r to the hawthorn, Hark, how bravely she sings, I do love, and love to be lovely, Nay even sell serpents with cursed poison abounding,
seed 43: T2 · 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 what can not tyme effect? What can not a louers Continuall wooing, long seruyng, dayly deseruyng Bring by degrees at length, at length, to a fortunat endyng? Phillis, I must confesse, at last I began to be yeelding Vnto a Loues conquest: and these armes made me be yeelding, Long patience, kyndenes, sighs, teares, importunat askings. Then did a night, one night, one shorte night teach mee a lesson, Which many thousand dayes would neuer let me be learnyng: Then did I quyckly repent, and quickly bewray my repentance, And say thus with teares: Now farewel mighty Diana, Bowes and shafts I renownce, and brutish life I abandon. So, I doo hope, one day, thy gentle-mynded Amyntas Shall with aboundant teares make thy hard hart to be tender; And why should not I hope, when I see iust matter of hoping? Is not Amyntas fayre? is hee not lou'd of many Lasses? Dooth not hee loue Phillis? yet Phillis loue's not Amyntas: And yet, alas, neyther thy hate, nor loue of an other Can withdraw his loue: And, if thou looke to thy gentrie, As sweete Cydippe is know'n to be truly thy mother, Cydippe daughter to the sacred God that abydeth In this syluer brooke; soe, father of haples Amyntas Was good Syluanus, Syluanus son to the greate Pan, Pan the shepheards greate God, that rul's and raign's by the forrest. And, if Phillis chaunce to behould her face in a fountayne, Phillis will not seeme more fayre then fayre Amaryllis: And Amaryllis fayre lou's gentleminded Amyntas; And Amaryllis loue is still contemn'd of Amyntas, For that, Phillis loue still rests in soule of Amyntas, Although Phillis alas hates her truelouer Amyntas. Now suppose for a while (God graunt it proue but a suppose) That Phillis sowre lookes dryue of this loue of Amyntas, And Amaryllis loue draw on this loue of Amyntas, And that Amyntas kisse, kisse and embrace Amaryllis, And laugh at Phillis: what then wil Phillis imagin? Well: let Amyntas deale as seemeth best to Amyntas, And loue somewhere els; his loue hath made me to hate hym. Loue breede hate? Sweete Syre of a most vnnatural ofspring And vile degenerate bastard: but when wil a white swan Hatch any coleblack crowe? or meeke sheepe foster a Tyger? Daphne leaue this talk, or looke noe more for an answer: His loue breedes my hate, when I hate to aford what hee loueth: Hee's not a fryend, but a foe, that my virgynyty seeketh: Why then, stifneckt bull is a foe, not a fryend to a heyfer, And to a Turtledoue, not a fryend, but a foe is a Turtle. Why then sweete springetyme breedes hate and works many mischifs, Sweetesmyling spring-tyme, that wils each thing to be louing, World and all in world; ô see how sweetly the Pigeon There with a murmur sweete his copsemate sweete is a wooing. Mark that Nightingale, which hops fro the bry'r to the hawthorne, Harck, how brauely shee sings, I doo loue, and loue to be louely, Nay eu'n sell serpents with cursed poyson abounding,