Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 4 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 527 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Love (dear Mirtillo) 's like a fire enclosed, Which straightly kept, more fiercely flames at last, Thou shouldst not have so long concealed from me The fire, since it thou couldst not hide. How often have I said Mirtillo burns, But in a silent flame and so consumes. Myself I harmed her not to offend (Courteous Ergasto) and should yet be dumb, But strict necessity hath made me bold. I hear a voice which through my scared ears Woundeth alas my wretched heart with noise Of Amarillis nighing nuptial feast, Who speaks aught else to me he holds his peace. Nor dare I further search, as well for fear To give suspicion of my love, as for to find That which I would not. Well! I know (Ergasto) It fits not with my poor and base estate To hope at all a Nymph so rarely qualifide, Of blood and sprite truly celestial, Should prove my wife. O no, I know too well, The lowliness of my poor humble star, My desteny's to burn! not to delight Was I brought forth, but since my cruel fates Have made me love my death more than my life, I am content to die, so that my death Might please her that's the cause thereof; And that she would but grace my latest gasp With her fair eyes, and once before she made Another by her marriage fortunate, She would but hear me speak. Courteous Ergasto, If thou lov'st me, help me with this favour, Aid me herein, if thou tak'st pity of my case. A poor desire of love; and light reward Of him that dies: but dangerous enterprise. Wretched were she, should but her father know She had bowed down her ears to her lovers words, Or should she be accused to the priest Her father in law, for this perhaps she shuns To speak with you, that else doth love you well, Although she it conceals; for women though They be more frail in their desires, Yet are they craftier in hiding them; If this be true, how can she show more love Than thus in shunning you? she hears in vain, And shuns with pity that can give no help. It is sound counsel, soon to cease desiring, When we cannot attain to our aspiring. Oh were this true, could I but this believe, Thrice happy pain. Thrice fortunate distress. But tell me sweet Ergusto, tell me true, Which is the shepherd whom the stars so friend? Know'st thou not Silvio Montane's only son? Diana's priest: that rich and famous shepherd, That gallant youth? He is the very same. Most happy youth, that hast in tender years Found fate so ripe. I do not envy thee, But plain myself. Nor need you envy him That pity more than envy doth deserve. Pity! and why? Because he loves her not. And lives he? hath a heart? and is not blind? Or hath she on my wretched heart spent all her flames? And her fair eyes blown all their loves on me? Why should they give a lemme so precious To one that neither knows it, nor regards it?
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)
Loue (deare Mirtillo)'s like a fire incloſde, Which ſtraightly kept, more fiercely flames at laſt, Thou ſhouldſt not haue ſo long conceald from me The fire, ſince it thou couldſt not hide. How often haue I ſaid Mirtillo burnes, But in a ſilent flame and ſo conſumes. My ſelfe I harmed her not to offend (Curteous Ergasto) and ſhould yet be dombe, But ſtrict neceſſitie hath made me bold. I heare a voice which through my ſcared eares Woundeth alas my wretched heart with noiſe Of Amarillis nighing nuptiall feaſt, Who ſpeakes ought els to me he holds his peace. Nor dare I further ſearch, as wel for feare To giue ſuſpition of my loue, as for to finde That which I would not. Well! I know (Ergaſto) It fits not with my poore and baſe eſtate To hope at all a Nymphe ſo rarely qualifide, Of bloud and ſpright truly celeſtiall, Should proue my wife. O no, I know too well, The lowlineſſe of my poore humble ſtarre, My deſteny's to burne! not to delight Was I brought forth, but ſince my cruell fates Haue made me loue my death more then my life, I am content to die, ſo that my death Might pleaſe her that's the cauſe thereof; And that ſhe would but grace my lateſt gaſpe With her faire eyes, and once before ſhe made Another by her marriage fortunate, She would but heare me ſpeake. Curteous Ergasto, If thou lou'ſt me, helpe me with this fauour, Aide me herein, if thou tak'ſt pittie of my caſe. A poore deſire of loue; and light reward Of him that dies: but dang'rous enterpriſe. Wretched were ſhe, ſhould but her father know She had bow'd downe her eares to her louers words, Or ſhould ſhe be accuſed to the prieſt Her father in lawe, for this perhaps ſhe ſhunnes To ſpeake with you, that els doth loue you well, Although ſhe it conceales; for women though They be more fraile in their deſires, Yet are they craftier in hiding them; If this be true, how can ſhe ſhow more loue Then thus in ſhunning you? ſhe heares in vaine, And ſhunnes with pittie that can giue no helpe. It is ſound counſell, ſoone to ceaſe deſiring, When we cannot attaine to our aſpiring. Oh were this true, could I but this beleeue, Thriſe happie paine. Thriſe fortunate diſtreſſe. But tell me ſweet Ergusto, tell me true, Which is the ſhepheard whom the ſtarres ſo friend? Knowſt thou not Siluio Montane's onely ſonne? Dianaes prieſt: that rich and famous ſhepheard, That gallant youth? He is the very ſame. Moſt happie youth, that haſt in tender yeares Found fate ſo ripe. I do not enuy thee, But plaine my ſelfe. Nor need you enuy him That pittie more then enuy doth deſerue. Pittie! and why? Becauſe he loues her not. And liues he? hath a hart? and is not blinde? Or hath ſhe on my wretched hart ſpent all her flames? And her faire eyes blowne all their loues on mee? Why ſhould they giue a lemme ſo precious To one that neither knowes it, nor regards it?