Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 25 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 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
The wretch hath almost moved me, should I but trust Affection only I were overcome. But to be short, I will not trust thee, strive no more. For all this humbleness thou art Corisca still. Oh me my head, stay yet do not deny Me one poor favour yet. What favour's that? Hear me but once. Thou think'st with feigned words And forged tears to mollify my heart. Ah courteous satire, what wilt thou make of me? we'll try. No pity then? No pity I. Art thou resolved of this? I am resolved. Hast thou now made an end of all thy charms? Oh villain indiscreet, unseasonable. Half a man, halfe a goat, and all a beast: Dried Carogne, defect of wicked nature. Dost thou believe Corisca loves not thee? It is most true. What should I love in thee: This goodly bunch of that beslavered beard, These goatlike ears, that stinking toothless cave? Oh witch are these to me? These are to thee. Ribald to me? Half goat to thee. And do Not I with these my hands thrust out thy bitch's tongue? I if thou durst. A silly woman in my hands, Dares brave me? dares despise me thus? Well I'll. Villain what wilt thou do? I'll eat thee quick. Where be thy teeth? Oh heavens who can endure I'll pay you home, come on. I will not come. That will I see. Spite of thy heart I will not. Come on, we'll see who hath the stronger, thou The neck or I the arms. Nay soft and fair. Well let us see. Go too. satire hold fast. Farewell, I would thy neck were broke. O me my head, my back, my side. Oh what A fall is this? I scarce can turn myself. And is she gone and left her head behind? Unusual wonder. Nymphs and shepherds come, Behold a witchcraft trick of one that's fled And lives without a head! How light it is? It hath no brains, there cometh out no blood. Why look I so? Oh fool she gone without a head, Thou art without a head that seest not How thou art mocked. Treacherous perfidous witch, Is't not enough thoust made thy heart to lie, Thy face, thy words, thy laughter and thy looks, But that thy hair must lie. Poets behold Your native gold, your amber pure, that you So fondly praise, for shame your subject change, In steed whereof sing me a witch's subtlety, That robbeth sepulchres and rotten heads To dress her own. As well you may go praise Megeraes' viperous monstrous hairs. lovers Behold, and be ashamed wretches now, Make this the means your senses to recover That are ensnared in such without more plaints. But why stay I to publish out her shame? This hair my tongue so famous made erewhile, I will go prove to make again as vile.
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)
The wretch hath almoſt mou'd me, ſhould I but truſt Affection onely I were ouercome. But to be ſhort, I wil not truſt thee, ſtriue no more. For all this humbleneſſe thou art Coriſca ſtill. Oh me my head, ſtay yet do not deny Me one poore fauour yet. What fauour's that? Heare me but once. Thou think'ſt with fained words And forged teares to mollifie my heart. Ah curteous Satir, what wilt thou make of me? Wee'le trie. No pittie then? No pittie I. Art thou reſolu'd of this? I am reſolu'd. Haſt thou now made an end of all thy charmes? Oh villaine indiſcreet, vnſeaſonable. Halfe a man, halfe a goat, and all a beaſt: Dryed Carogne, defect of wicked nature. Doſt thou beleeue Coriſca loues not thee? It is moſt true. What ſhould I loue in thee: This goodly bunch of that beſlauered beard, Theſe goatlike eares, that ſtinking toothleſſe caue? Oh witch are theſe to me? Theſe are to thee. Ribald to me? Halfe goat to thee. And do Not I with theſe my hands thruſt out thy bitches tongue? I if thou durſt. A ſilly woman in my hands, Dares braue me? dares deſpiſe me thus? Well I'le. Villaine what wilt thou do? Ile eate thee quick. Where be thy teeth? Oh heauens who can endure I'le pay you home, come on. I wil not come. That will I ſee. Spite of thy hart I will not. Come on, wee'le ſee who hath the ſtronger, thou The necke or I the armes. Nay ſoft and faire. Well let vs ſee. Go too. Satir hold faſt. Farewell, I would thy necke were broke. O me my head, my backe, my ſide. Oh what A fall is this? I ſcarce can turne my ſelfe. And is ſhe gone and left her head behind? Vnuſuall wonder. Nimphs and ſhepheards come, Behold a witchcraft tricke of one that's fled And liues without a head! How light it is? It hath no braines, there commeth out no blood. Why looke I so? Oh foole ſhe gone without a head, Thou art without a head that ſeeſt not How thou art mockt. Treacherous perfidous witch, Is't not inough th'aſt made thy hart to lie, Thy face, thy words, thy laughter and thy lookes, But that thy haire muſt lie. Poets behold Your natiue gold, your amber pure, that you So fondly praiſe, for ſhame your ſubiect chaunge, In ſteed whereof ſing me a witches ſubtiltie, That robbeth ſepulchres and rotten heads To dreſſe her owne. As well you may go praiſe Megeraes viprous monſtrous haires. Louers Behold, and be aſhamed wretches now, Make this the meanes your ſences to recouer That are inſnar'd in ſuch without more plaints. But why ſtay I to publiſh out her ſhame? This haire my tongue ſo famous made erewhile, I will go proue to make againe as vile.