Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 24 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O I am dead, And I alive? Ah turn My Amarillis, turn again, I taken am. Tush Amarillis hears thee not, be quiet now. Oh me my hear. I have hunted thee so long That at the last thouart fallen into my snare. This is the robe sister, this is the hear. Speak you to me satire? I e'en to thee. Are you not that same famous Corisca, that Excellent mistress of lies, that at so dear a rate False hopes, feigned looks, and lying words dost sell, That hast betrayed me so many ways perfidous Corisca. I am Corisca gentle satire, but not now So pleasing to thine eyes as I have been. I gentle wicked wretch, I was not so When me thou 〈◊〉 to follow Coridon. I left thee for another. See, see a wonder, This is news indeed. But when I stole Fair Lillaes' bow, Clor● scarf, Daphne's rich robe, And Silutaes' buskins, than thou promised me Thy love thou gav'st another should be my reward. The dainty garland which I gave to thee, Thou gav'st to Nisus. And when me thou mad'st To watch so many frostie night▪ both n The cave, the woods, and by the river side, And ever mockedst me, was I not gentle then? Believe me now thou shalt me pay for all. Thou stranglest me as if I were a dog. Now see if thou canst run away again. Thy policies shall not avail thee now. If but thy head hold on 'tis vain to strive. Good satire give me leave to speak to thee. Speak tlhen How can I speak? let me go: Upon my faith I will not run away. What faith oh faithless woman hast? Dar'st thou Yet speak of faith to me? I'll carry thee Into the darkest cave this mountain hath: Where never Sun nor human step approached, I'll hide the rest there thou with my delight And with thy scorn shalt feel what I will do with thee. And canst thou be so cruel to that hair For which thou oft hast sworn 'twere sweet to die, And that thou couldst not suffer too much ill for me? Oh heavens, oh fates, whom shall a woman trust? Ah wicked, thinkst thou to deceive me yet? Canst thou yet tempt me with thy subtleties? Oh gentle satire do not make a scorn Of her that thee adores. If so thy heart Be not of marble made, behold me at Thy feet, if ever I offended thee (o Idol of My soul) I pardon crave. By these same strong And more than manlike knees which I embrace, By that same love thou sometime bar'st to me, By that same sweetness which thou wontest to draw Thou saidst out of mine eyes calling them stars, Now wretched fountains of these bitter tears, I pray thee pity me, let me but go.
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)
O I am dead, And I aliue? Ah turne My Amarillis, turne againe, I taken am. Tuſh Amarillis heares thee not, be quiet now. Oh me my heare. I haue hunted thee ſo long That at the laſt th'art falne into my ſnare. This is the roabe ſiſter, this is the heare. Speake you to me Satir? I eu'n to thee. Are you not that ſame famous Coriſca, that Excellent miſtreſſe of lyes, that at ſo deare a rae Falſe hopes, fain'd lookes, and lying words doſt ſell, That haſt betraied me ſo many waies perfidous Coriſca. I am Coriſca gentle Satir, but not now So pleaſing to thine eyes as I haue bene. I gentle wicked wretch, I was not ſo When me thou to follow Coridon. I let thee for another. See, ſee a wonder, This is newes indeed. But when I ſtole Faire Lillaes bowe, Clor ſcarfe, Daphnes rich oabe, And Silutaes buskins, then thou promi'ſt me Thy loue thou gau'ſt another ſhould be my reward. The daintie garland which I gaue to thee, Thou gau'ſt to Niſus. And when me thou mad'ſt To watch ſo many froſtie night▪ both n The caue, the woods, and by the riuer ſide, And euer mockedſt me, was I not gentle then? Beleeue me now thou ſhalt me pay for all. Thou ſtrangleſt me as if I were a dogge. Now ſee if thou canſt runne away againe. Thy pollicies ſhall not auaile thee now. If but thy head hold on t'is vaine to ſtriue. Good Satir giue me leaue to ſpeak to thee. Spak tlhen How can I ſpeak? let me go: Vpon my faith I will not runne away. What faith oh faithleſſe woman haſt? Dar'ſt thou Yet ſpeak of faith to me? Ile carry thee Into the darkeſt caue this mountaine hath: Where neuer Sunne nor humane ſteppe approach't, Il'e hide the reſt there thou with my delight And with thy ſcorne ſhalt feele what I wil do with thee. And canſt thou be ſo cruel to that haire For which thou oft haſt ſworne t'were ſweet to die, And that thou coulſt not ſuffer too much ill for me? Oh heauens, oh faes, whom ſhall a woman truſt? Ah wicked, thinkſt thou to deceiue me yet? Canſt thou yet tempt me with thy ſubtilties? Oh gentle Satir do not make a ſcorne Of her that thee adores. If ſo thy hart Be not of marble made, behold me at Thy feete, if euer I offended thee (ô Idole of My ſoule) I pardon craue. By theſe ſame ſtrong And more then manlike knees which I embrace, By that ſame loue thou ſometime bar'ſt to me, By that ſame ſweetneſſe which thou wont'ſt to draw Thou ſaid'ſt out of mine eyes calling them ſtarres, Now wretched fountaines of theſe bitter teares, I pray thee pittie me, let me but go.