Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 7 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.84 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
This cruel love (Mirtillo) feeds himself With tears, and grief, but's never satisfied. I promise thee to set my wits a work, That the fair Nymph shall hear thee speak. Let's go? These burning sighs do not as they do seem, Bring any cooling to th'inflamed heart: But rather are huge and impetuous winds, That blow the fire, and make it greater prove, With swelling whirlwinds of tempestuous love, Which unto wretched lovers always bears Thick clouds of grief, and showers of dreary tears. WHo ever saw or heard a stranger, and A fonder passion of this foolish love? Both love, and hate, in one self heart combined, With such a wondrous mixture: as I know not how, Or which of them hath got the deeper root. If I Mirtilloes beauty do behold: His gracious countenance, good behaviour, Actions, customs, words and manly looks: Love me assails, with such a puissant fire, That I burn altogether. And it seems Other affections are quite vanquished with this. But when I think upon th'obstinate love He to another bears; and that for her He doth despise (I will be bold to say) My famous beauty of a thousand soft: I hate him so, I so abhor the man, That 't's impossible me thinks at all, One spark of love for him should touch my heart. Thus with myself sometime I say: Oh if I could Enjoy my sweet Mirtillo! were he mine, And had not others interest in him, Oh more than any other happy Corisca. And then in me upflames such great good will, And such a gentle love to him; that I resolve Straight to discover all my heart to him, To follow him, and humbly sue to him: Nay more, e'en to fall down and worship him. On th'other side, I all reclaimed say, A niceproud fool? one that disdaineth me? One that can love another and despise myself? One that can look on me and not adore me? One that can so defend him from my look, That he dies not for love. And I that should See him (as I have many more ere this) An humble suppliant before my feet, Am humble suppliant at his feet myself. Then such a rage at him possesseth me, That I disdain my thoughts should think on him, Mine eyes should look on him. His very name And all my love, I worse than death do hate. Then would I have him the woefull'st wight alive: And with these hands than could I kill the wretch. Thus hate, and love, spite, and desire make war. I that have been till now tormenting flame, To thousand hearts: must languish now myself, And in my ill, know others wretchedness. I that so many years in cities, streets, courts, Have been invincible to worthy friends, Mocking their many hopes, their great desires: Now conquered am, with silly rustic love, Of a base shepherd's brat. Oh above all Wretched Corisca now. What shall I do
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)
This cruell loue (Mirtillo) feeds himſelfe With teares, and griefe, but's neuer ſatisfide. I promiſe thee to ſet my wits a worke, That the faire Nymphe ſhall heare thee ſpeake. Lets goe? Theſe burning ſighes do not as they do ſeeme, Bring any cooling to th'inflamed hart: But rather are huge and impetuous windes, That blow the fire, and make it greater proue, With ſwelling whirlwindes of tempeſtuous loue, Which vnto wretched louers alwaies beares Thick cloudes of griefe, and ſhowres of dreary teares. WHo euer ſawe or heard a ſtraunger, and A fonder paſſion of this fooliſh loue? Both loue, and hate, in one ſelfe hart combin'd, With ſuch a wondrous mixture: as I know not how, Or which of them hath got the deeper roote. If I Mirtilloes beautie do behold: His gracious count'nance, good behauior, Actions, cuſtomes, words and manly lookes: Loue me aſſailes, with ſuch a puiſſant fire, That I burne altogither. And it ſeemes Other affections are quite vanquiſhed with this. But when I thinke vpon th'obſtinate loue He to another beares; and that for her He doth deſpiſe (I will be bold to say) My famous beautie of a thouſand ſoft: I hate him ſo, I ſo abhorre the man, That t's impoſſible me thinkes at all, One ſparke of loue for him ſhould touch my heart. Thus with my ſelfe ſometime I ſay: Oh if I could Enioy my ſweet Mirtillo! were he mine, And had not others intereſt in him, Oh more then any other happie Coriſca. And then in me vpflames ſuch great good will, And ſuch a gentle loue to him; that I reſolue Straight to diſcouer all my hart to him, To follow him, and humbly ſue to him: Nay more, eu'n to fall downe and worſhip him. On th'other ſide, I all reclaimed say, A niceproud foole? one that diſdaineth me? One that can loue another and deſpiſe my ſelfe? One that can looke on me and not adore me? One that can ſo defend him from my looke, That he dies not for loue. And I that ſhould See him (as I haue many more ere this) An humble ſuppliant before my feete, Am humble ſuppliant at his feete my ſelfe. Then ſuch a rage at him poſſeſſeth mee, That I diſdain my thoughts ſhould think on him, Mine eyes ſhould looke on him. His verie name And all my loue, I worſe then death do hate. Then would I haue him the wofulſt wight aliue: And with theſe hands then could I kill the wretch. Thus hate, and loue, ſpight, and deſire make warre. I that haue bene till now tormenting flame, To thouſand harts: muſt languiſh now my ſelfe, And in my ill, know others wretchedneſſe. I that ſo many years in cities, ſtreets, courts, Haue bene inuincible to worthy friends, Mocking their many hopes, their great deſires: Now conquered am, with ſilly ruſticke loue, Of a baſe ſhepherds brat. Oh aboue all Wretched Coriſca now. What ſhall I do