Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 1 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan · 547 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
GO you that have enclosed the dreadful beast, And give the sign that's usual to our hunting, Go swell your eyes and hearts with horns and shouts, If there be any swain of Cinthia's troop In all Arcadia, delighted in her sports, Whose generous affects are stung with care, Or glory of these woods: let him come forth And follow me, where in a circle small (Though to our valour large) enclosed is The ugly Boar, monster of nature & these woods. That vast and fierce (by many harms well known) Inhabitant of Erimanthus, plague to the fields, Terror to country clowns. Go then prevent Not only, but provoke with horns shrill sound, Blushing Aurora out. Linco we'll go And worship first the Gods: for there 'tis best We any work begin. Silvio I praise Thy worshipping the Gods, but yet to trouble them That are their ministers I do not praise. The keepers of the temple are a sleep, They cannot see the day break for the mountains top. To thee perhaps, that art not yet awake, All things do seem a sleep. O Silvio, Did nature on these youthful years of thine Bestow such beauty to be cast away? Had I but such a ruddy cheek? so fresh? Farewell to woods, I'd follow other sports: I'd wear my days in mirth: all summer tie In dainty shades, winter by the fire side. Thy counsel (Linco) is like unto thyself. At other pleasures would I aim, were I Silvio. So would I, were I Linco, but I Silvio am, Therefore I Siluioes' deeds do like, not Lincoes. O fool, that seek'st so far for hurtful beasts▪ And hast one lodged so near thy dwelling house. Art thou in earnest? or dost thou but jest? Thou jests, not I And is he then so near? As near as 'tis to thee. Where? in what wood? Silvio thou art the wood: the ugly beast That's harboured there, is this thy beastliness. Was't not well guessed of me thou didst but jest? A Nymph so fair, so delicate! but tush Why do I call her Nymph, a Goddess rather. More fresh, more dainty, than the morning rose. More soft, more purely white than swanny down. (For whom there's not a shepherd 'mongst us all so brave, But sighs, and sighs in vain) for thee alone Reserves herself, ordained by heaven and men: And yet thou neither thinkst of sighs or plaints. O happy boy (though most unworthily) Thou that might'st her enjoy, still sliest her Silvio, Still her despisest. Is not then thy heart Made of a beast, or or of hard Iron rather? If to relinquish love be cruelty, Then is it virtue, and I not repent That I have banished love my heart: but joy That thereby I have overcome this love, A beast more dangerous than th'other far. How hast thou overcome that which thou never proved. Not proving it, I have it overcome. O if thou hadst but proved it Silvio once, If thou but knewst what a high favour 'twere, To be beloved, and loving to possess A loving heart, It'am sure thou then wouldst say, Sweet lovely life why hast thou stayed so long? These woods and beasts leave foolish child, and love.
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)
GO you that haue enclos'd the dreadfull beaſt, And giue the ſigne that's vſuall to our hunting, Go ſwell your eyes and harts with hornes and ſhoutes, If there be any ſwaine of Cinthia's troupe In all Arcadia, delighted in her ſports, Whoſe generous affects are ſtung with care, Or glory of theſe woods: let him come forth And follow me, where in a circle ſmall (Though to our valure large) incloſed is The ougly Bore, monſter of nature & theſe woods. That vaſt and fierce (by many harmes well knowne) Inhabitant of Erimanthus, plague to the fields, Terror to country clownes. Go then preuent Not onely, but prouoke with hornes ſhrill ſound, Bluſhing Aurora out. Linco wee'le goe And worſhip firſt the Gods: for there t'is beſt We any worke begin. Siluio I praiſe Thy worſhipping the Gods, but yet to trouble them That are their miniſters I do not praiſe. The keepers of the temple are a ſleepe, They cannot ſee the day break for the mountaines top. To thee perhaps, that art not yet awake, All things do ſeeme a ſleepe. O Siluio, Did nature on theſe youthfull yeares of thine Beſtow ſuch beautie to be caſt away? Had I but ſuch a ruddie cheeke? ſo freſh? Farwell to woods, I'ld follow other ſports: I'ld weare my dayes in mirth: all ſommer tide In daintie ſhades, winter by the fire ſide. Thy counſell (Linco) is like vnto thy ſelfe. At other pleaſures would I aime, were I Siluio. So would I, were I Linco, but I Siluio am, Therefore I Siluioes deeds do like, not Lincoes. O foole, that ſeekſt ſo farre for hurtfull beaſts▪ And ha'ſt one lodg'd ſo neare thy dwelling houſe. Art thou in earneſt? or doſt thou but ieſt? Thou ieſts, not I. And is he then ſo neare? As neare as t'is to thee. Where? in what wood? Siluio thou art the wood: the ougly beaſt That's harbour'd there, is this thy beaſtlineſſe. Was't not well geſt of me thou didſt but ieſt? A Nymphe ſo faire, ſo delicate! but tuſh Why do I call her Nymphe, a Goddeſſe rather. More freſh, more daintie, then the morning roſe. More ſoft, more purely white then ſwanny downe. (For whom there's not a ſhepheard mongſt vs all ſo braue, But ſighes, and ſighes in vaine) for thee alone Reſerues her ſelfe, ordaind by heau'n and men: And yet thou neither thinkſt of ſighes or plaints. O happie boy (though moſt vnworthily) Thou that mighſt her enioy, ſtill ſlieſt her Siluio, Still her despiſeſt. Is not then thy heart Made of a beaſt, or or of hard Iron rather? If to relinquiſh loue be crueltie, Then is it vertue, and I not repent That I haue baniſht loue my hart: but ioy That thereby I haue ouercome this loue, A beaſt more daungerous then th'other farre. How haſt thou ouercome that which thou neuer prou'd. Not prouing it, I haue it ouercome. O if thou hadſt but prou'd it Siluio once, If thou but knewſt what a high fauour t'were, To be belou'd, and louing to poſſeſſe A louing hart, It'am ſure thou then wouldſt ſay, Sweet louely life why haſt thou ſtaid ſo long? Theſe woods and beaſts leaue fooliſh child, and loue.