Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 31 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 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
If I as well to answer as to hear, You pronused had, just cause you might have found To have condemned my silence for unjust. You call me cruel, imagining perhaps By that reproof more easily to draw Me to the contrary. No know (Mirtillo) I am no more delighted with the sound Of that desertless and disliked praise You to my beauty give, then discontent To hear you call me cruel and unjust. I grant this cruelty to any else a fault, But to a lover virtue 't's and honesty, Which in a woman you call cruelty. But be it as you you'd blameworthy fault, To be unkind to one that loves. Tell me, When was Amarillis cruel unto you? Perhaps when reason would not give me leave To use this pity: yet how I it used Yourself can judge, when you from death I saved: I mean when you among a noble sort of maids, A lustful Lover in a woman's clothes Banded yourself, and durst contaminate Their purest sports, mingling 'mong kisses innocent, Kisses lascivious and impure: which to remember I am ashamed. But heavens my witness are, I knew you not, and after I you knew, I scorned your deed, and kept my soul untouched From your lasciviousness, not suffering at all The venom there to run to my chaste heart. You violated nothing save th'out side Of these my lips. A mouth kissed but by force Spits out the kiss, and kill the shame withal. But tell me you, what fruit had you received Of your rash theft, had I discovered you Unto those Nymphs? The Thracian Orfeus had not been So lamentably torn on Ebers banks Of Bacchus' dames as you had been of them, Had not you help't, her pity whom you cruel call. That pity which was fit for me to give, I ever gave: For other 'tis in vain you either ask or hope: If you me love, then love mine honesty, My safety love, and love my life withal. Thou art too far from that which thou desir'st, The heavens forbid, the earth contraries it, Death is the punishment thereof. And above all Mine honesty defies forbidden acts: Then with a safer keeper of her honour's flower, A soul well-born will ever scorn to have. Then rest in peace (Mirtillo) give over this suit, Get thee far hence to live if thou art be'st wise. T'abandon life for peevish grief or smart, Is not the action of a valiant heart. From that which pleaseth virtue, 'tis t'abstain, Is that which pleaseth breeds offence again. To save one's life is not within his power, That hath his soul forsaken and given over. One armed in virtue conquereth all desire. Virtue small conquest gets where love triumphs. Who cannot what he would will he what he can. Oh loves necessity no laws endures. Distance of place may heal your wound again. In vain one flies from that his heart doth harbour. A new desire an old will quite displace. Had I another heart, another soul. Time will at last clearly this love consume.
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)
If I as well to anſwere as to heare, You pronuſ'd had, iuſt cauſe you might haue found To haue condemn'd my ſilence for vniuſt. You call me cruell, imagining perhaps By that reproofe more eaſily to drawe Me to the contrary. No know (Mirtillo) I am no more delighted with the ſound Of that deſertleſſe and diſliked praiſe You to my beautie giue, then diſcontent To heare you call me cruell and vniuſt. I graunt this crueltie to any elſe a fault, But to a louer vertue t's and honeſtie, Which in a woman you call crueltie. But be it as you you'd blame-worthy fault, To be vnkinde to one that loues. Tell me, When was Amarillis cruell vnto you? Perhaps when reaſon would not giue me leaue To vſe this pitie: yet how I it vſ'd Your ſelfe can iudge, when you from death I ſau'd: I meane when you among a noble ſort of maides, A luſtfull Louer in a womans cloathes Banded your ſelfe, and durſt contaminate Their pureſt ſports, mingling mong kiſſes innocent, Kiſſes laſciuious and impure: which to remember I am aſham'd. But heauens my witneſſe are, I knew you not, and after I you knew, I ſcornd your deed, and kept my ſoule vntoucht From your laſciuiouſneſſe, not ſuffering at all The venome there to runne to my chaſte heart. You violated nothing ſaue th'out ſide Of theſe my lips. A mouth kiſt but by force Spits out the kiſſe, and kill the ſhame withall. But tell me you, what fruite had you receiu'd Of your raſh theft, had I diſcouered you Vnto thoſe Nymphes? The Thracian Orfeus had not bene So lamentably torne on Ebers bankes Of Bacchus dames as you had bene of them, Had not you help't, her pittie whom you cruell call. That pittie which was fit for me to giue, I euer gaue: For other t'is in vaine you either aske or hope: If you me loue, then loue mine honeſtie, My ſafetie loue, and loue my life withall. Thou art too farre from that which thou deſir'ſt, The heauens forbid, the earth contraries it, Death is the puniſhment thereof. And aboue all Mine honeſtie deſies forbidden acts: Then with a ſafer keeper of her honours floure, A ſoule well-borne will euer ſcorne to haue. Then reſt in peace (Mirtillo) giue ore this ſuite, Get thee farre hence to liue if thou art bee'ſt wiſe. T'abandon life for peeuiſh griefe or ſmart, Is not the action of a valiant hart. From that which pleaſeth vertue, t'is t'abſtaine, Is that which pleaſeth breeds offence againe. To ſaue ones life is not within his power, That hath his ſoule forſaken and giu'n ore. One arm'd in vertue conquereth all deſire. Vertue ſmall conqueſt gets where loue tryumphes. Who cannot what he would will he what he can. Oh loues neceſſitie no lawes endures. Diſtance of place may heale your wound againe. In vaine one flies from that his hart doth harbour. A new deſire an old will quite diſplace. Had I another hart, another ſoule. Time will at laſt clearly this loue conſume.