Phillis and Amyntas (Ivychurch) (Amyntas' Pastoral) · chunk 20 of 30
Fraunce, Abraham / Tasso, Torquato · published 1591 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) pastoral T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.74 · 561 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Words well worthy to make any heart of flint to be tender: But what said Phillis? Thyrs. Not a word; but scornfuly blushing Looks down, hiding all that bands would have to be hidden. Gentle Amyntas comes, and golden locks he releaseth, And as he unknits knots, thus golden-locks he beespeaketh, Golden locks too good this senseless tree to be chaining, What shall Lovers have, wherein they may be triumphing, If loves-lace can abide to be stretched from a Nymph to a willow? Paltry willow breaks with rude and boysterus handling, Golden chain, which gave such grace to the paltry willow. Then those hard-held hands in such odd manner he loosed, As that he wished and feared hart-holding hands to be handling. Lastly, to free her feet, himself he begins to be kneeling: But when Phillis her hands from bands felt fully released, His loving service with these proud words she refused, Touch me not, hence Pastor, mine own hands shall be my own legs Freedom, touch not a Nymph, that's consecrat unto Diana. O graceless guerdon for service dutiful offered, How can a Nymphs sweet breast harbour so filthy a monster? Gentle Amyntas strait with these words mildly retired, And withdrew himself, not daring once to be lifting Up those lovesick eyes, himself unkindly denying joys to his own poor self, that he might ease his bony Phillis Of that pain, small pain, of giving him the denial. All this I heard and saw, whilst under an oak I did hide me, All this I heard and saw, and once I began to be speaking For very grief; yet I stayed: But mark yet, mark yet a wonder. After long toiling her feet at last she released, And scarce, scarce her feet from bands at last she released, But those winged feet she bestyrs as fast as a young Hind, And to Amyntas gives no not so much as a farewell: Yet no cause of flight, for Amyntas made not an offer. What did he then poor man, when Phillis left him alone thus? That can I noeway guess; for I was so mad to behold this Scornful pride, that I ran t'have brought her back to Amyntas, Ran with might and main, in vain: for I feared her away still; And when I came backward to the well, than I miss Amyntas. Surely I fear he's dead, for I know that he fully resolved Ere that he came to the well, himself t'have speedily murdered. That's but an ordinary thing, for a lover death to be threatening, But not an ordinary thing any man for love to be dying. God grant it prove so in Amyntas. Chor. Doubt not. Thyrs. I fear it. Yet to the Cave I'll go, where sage Elpinus abideth: There, if he live, its like, that Amyntas willbe recounting His forepast pains to the rocks and watery fountains, And with pleasant pipe, with voice so sweetly resounding Make those rocks to resound, and wring out tears fro the fountains. THy pity was pityles, Daphne, my dart to be plucking From this doleful breast, my pains and pangs be redoubled By differing death: what meanest thou thus to be turning, Turning and winding my troubled mind with a thousand fruitless discourses? thou think'st perchance that Amyntas Will dispatch himself: if he do, that's best for Amyntas.
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)
Woords well woorthy to make any hart of flynt to be tender: But what said Phillis? Thyrs. Not a woord; but scornfuly blushing Looks downe, hyding all that bands would haue to be hidden. Gentle Amyntas coms, and golden lockes he releaseth, And as he vnknits knotts, thus golden-locks he beespeaketh, Golden locks too good this senceles tree to be chayning, What shal Louers haue, wherein they may be triumphing, If loues-lace can abide to be stretcht from a Nymph to a willow? Paltery willow breakes with rude and boysterus handling, Golden chaine, which gaue such grace to the paltery willow. Then those hard-held hands in such odd manner hee loosed, As that hee wisht and feard hart-holding hands to be handling. Lastly, to free her feete, himself he begins to be kneeling: But when Phillis her hands from bands felt fully released, His louing seruice with these proud words she refused, Tutch me not, hence Pastor, mine owne hands shall be my owne leggs Freedome, tutch not a Nymph, that's consecrat vnto Diana. O graceles guerdon for seruice dutiful offred, How can a Nymphs sweete brest harbor so fylthy a monster? Gentle Amyntas straight with these woords myldely retyred, And withdrew himself, not daring once to be lifting Vp those loue-sick eyes, himself vnkindly denying Ioyes to his owne poore self, that he might ease his bony Phillis Of that paine, small paine, of geuing him the deniall. All this I heard and saw, whilst vnder an oake I did hide mee, All this I heard and saw, and once I began to be speaking For very grief; yet I stayd: But marck yet, marck yet a woonder. After long toyling her feete at last she released, And scarce, scarce her feete from bands at last she released, But those winged feete she bestyrs as fast as a yong Hynde, And to Amyntas giues noe not soemuch as a farewell: Yet noe cause of flight, for Amyntas made not an offer. What did he then poore man, when Phillis leaft him alone thus? That can I noeway gesse; for I was soe mad to behold this Scornefull pride, that I ran t'haue brought her back to Amyntas, Ran with might and mayne, in vayne: for I feard her away still; And when I came backward to the well, then I missed Amyntas. Surely I feare hee's dead, for I know that he fully resolued Ere that he came to the well, himself t'haue speedily murdred. That's but an ord'nary thing, for a louer death to be threatning, But not an ord'nary thing any man for loue to be dying. God graunt it proue soe in Amyntas. Chor. Doubt not. Thyrs. I feare it. Yet to the Caue Ile goe, where sage Elpinus abydeth: There, if hee liue, its like, that Amyntas wilbe recounting His forepassed paines to the rocks and watery fountaines, And with pleasant pipe, with voyce soe sweetely resounding Make those rocks to resound, and wring out teares fro the fountaines. THy pity was pityles, Daphne, my dart to be plucking From this dolefull brest, my paines and pangs be redoubled By differring death: what meanst thou thus to be turning, Turning and wynding my troubled minde with a thousand Fruytles discourses? thou thinckst perchaunce that Amyntas Will dispatch himself: if he dooe, that's best for Amyntas.