Anonymous · published 1600 · first performed or written 1600 [1599-1600] (Annals) pastoral; romance · Children of Paul's (second) T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses typicality 0.83 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
My business, cannot so dispatched be. But pray ye Maid, it will be very good, To take the shade, in this unhaunted wood: This flowering bay with branches large and great, Will shroud ye safely, from the parching heat. Good sir, my business calls me hence in haste. O stay with him, whom conquered thou hast. With him, whose restless thoughts do beat on thee: With him that joys, thy wished face to see. With him whose joys surmount all joys above: If thou wouldst think him worthy of thy love. Why Sir, would you desire another make? And wear that garland for your mistress sake? No Nymph, although I love this laurel tree, My fancy ten times more affecteth thee: And as the bay is always fresh and green, So shall my love as fresh to thee be seen. Now truly Sir, you offer me great wrong, To hold me from my business here so long. O stay sweet Nymph, with more advisement view, What one he is, that for thy grace doth sue: I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks, I am no shepherd waiting on my flocks. I am no boisterous Satire, no nor Faun, That am with pleasure of thy beauty drawn. Thou dost not know God wot, thou dost not know, The wight, whose presence thou disdainest so. But I may know, if you would please to tell. My father in the highest heavens doth dwell: And I am known the son of Ioue to be, Whereon the folk of Delphos honour me. By me is known what is, what was, and what shall be, By me are learned the Rules of harmony. By me the depth of Physics lore is found: And power of herbs that grow upon the ground. And thus by circumstances mayst thou see, That I am Phoebus, who doth fancy thee. No sir, by these discourses may I see, You mock me with a forged pedigree. If son you be to Ioue, as erst ye said, In making love unto a mortal maid, You work dishonour to your deity: I must be gone: I thank ye for your courtesy. Alas, abandon not thy Lover so. I pray sir heartily, give me leave to go. The way o'ergrown, with shrubs and bushes thick, The sharpened thorns, your tender feet will prick. The brambles round about, your train will lap, The burrs and briars, about your skirts will wrap. If Phoebus, thou of Ioue the offspring be, Dishonour not thy deity so much, With proffered force, a silly maid to touch: For doing so, although a god thou be, The earth, and men on earth, shall ring thy infamy. Hard speech to him that loveth thee so well. What know I that? I know it, and can tell: and feel it too. If that your love be such, As you pretend, so fervent and so much, For proof thereof, grant me but one request.
seed 43: T29 · seed 44: T27 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
My buſines, cannot ſo diſpatched bee. But pray ye Maide, it will be verie good, To take the ſhade, in this vnhaunted wood: This flowring bay with branches large and great, Will ſhrowd ye ſafely, from the parching heat. Good ſir, my buſines calls me hence in haſt. O ſtay with him, whō conquered thou haſt. With him, whoſe reſtles thoughts do beat on thee: With him that ioyes, thy wiſhed face to ſee. With him whoſe ioyes ſurmount all ioyes aboue: If thou wouldſt thinke him worthie of thy loue. Why Sir, would you deſire another make? And weare that garland for your Miſtres ſake? No Nymph, although I loue this lawrel tree, My fancy ten times more affecteth thee: And as the bay is alwaies freſh and greene, So ſhall my loue as freſh to thee be ſeene. Now truly Sir, you offer me great wrong, To hold me from my buſines here ſo long. O ſtay ſweet Nymph, with more aduiſement view, What one he is, that for thy grace doth ſue: I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks, I am no ſhepheard wayting on my flocks. I am no boyſtrous Satyre, no nor Faune, That am with pleaſure of thy beautie drawne. Thou doſt not know God wot, thou doſt not kno, The wight, whoſe preſence thou diſdaineſt ſo. But I may know, if you wold pleaſe to tell. My father in the higheſt heauens doth dwel: And I am knowne the ſonne of Ioue to bee, Whereon the folke of Delphos honor mee. By me is knowne what is, what was, and what ſhall bee, By me are learnde the Rules of harmonie. By me the depth of Phiſicks lore is found: And power of hearbes that grow vpon the ground. And thus by circumſtances maiſt thou ſee, That I am Phoebus, who doth fancie thee. No ſir, by theſe diſcourſes may I ſee, You mock me with a forged pedegree. If ſonne you be to Ioue, as erſt ye ſaid, In making loue vnto a mortall maide, You worke diſhonour to your deitie: I muſt be gone: I thanke ye for your curteſie. Alas, abandon not thy Louer ſo. I pray ſir hartily, giue me leaue to goe. The way ore-growne, with ſhrubs and buſhes thick, The ſharpned thornes, your tender feete will prick. The brambles round about, your traine will lappe, The burs and briers, about your skirts will wrappe. If Phoebus, thou of Ioue the ofspring be, Diſhonor not thy deitie ſo much, With profered force, a ſilly mayd to touch: For doing ſo, although a god thou bee, The earth, and men on earth, ſhall ring thy infamie. Hard ſpeech to him that loueth thee ſo well. What know I that? I know it, and can tell: and feele it too. If that your loue be ſuch, As you pretend, ſo feruent and ſo much, For proofe thereof, graunt me but one requeſt.