Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 39 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.81 · 537 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Hath ta'ned away, and giu'ned an other man: Yet wretch thou liv'st, thou dost not die. O die Mirtillo, die to thy tormenting grief, As to thy joy thou art already dead. Die dead Mirtillo, finished is thy life. Finish thy torment too: fleet wretched soul Through this four constrained and wayward death: 'tis for thy greater ill that thus thou liust. But what? And must I die without revenge? First will I make him die that gives me death: Desire to live so long I will retain Till justly I have that Usurper slain. Yield Grief unto Revenge: Pity to Rage, Death unto life, till with my life I have Revenged the death, another guiltless gave. This Steel shall not drink mine unvenidall blood, My hand shall rage ere it shall piteous be. What ere thou art that ioyst my comforts all, I'll make thee feel thy ruin in my fall. I'll place me here e'en in this very Grove, And as I see him but approach the Cave, This Dart shall sudden wound him in his side. It shallbe cowardlike to strike him thus, I'll challenge him to single combat, I: Not so; for to this place so known and used, Shepherds may come to hinder us, and worse: May search the cause that moved me to this fight, Which to deny were wickedness to feign, Will make me faithless held: and to discover, Will blot her name with endless infamiet In whom albeit I like not what I see, Yet what I loved I do, and ever shall. But what hope I to see, th'adulterer die That robbed her of her honour, me my life? But if I kill him, shall not then his blood Be to the world a token of this deed? Why fear I death? since I desire to die. But then this murder once made plain, makes plain The cause whereby she shall incur that infamy: I'll enter then this Cave, and so assail him, I so, that pleaseth me: I'll steal in softly, So that she shall not hear me. I believe That in the secretest and the closest part I gather by her words I shall her find, Therefore I will not enter in too far. A hollow hole there is made in a Rock, The left side covered all with ivy leaves: Beneath th'other assent there will I stand, And tune attend t'effect what I desire: I'll bear my dead foe to my living foe; Thus of them both I shallbe well revenged: Then with this self same Dart I'll pierce this breast, So shall there be three pier'st without relief, First two with Steel, the third with deadly grief, (Fierce) she shall see the miserable end Of her beloved, and her betrayed friend, This Cave that should be harbour of her joys, Of both her loves, and that which more I crave, Of her great shame, may prove the happy grave. And you the steps that I in vain have followed, Could you me speed of such a faithful way? Could you direct me to so dear a Bower? Behold I follow you. O Corisea, Corisea, Now hast thou told too true, now I believe thee.
nodes 2458–2521 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 71 in this edition
Length
537 words · 702 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.809 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hath ta'n't away, and giu'n't an other man: Yet wretch thou liu'ſt, thou doſt not die. O die Mirtillo, die to thy tormenting griefe, As to thy ioy thou art alreadie dead. Die dead Mirtillo, finiſh't is thy life. Finiſh thy torment too: fleet wretched ſoule Through this foure conſtrain'd and wayward death: Tis for thy greater ill that thus thou liuſt. But what? And muſt I die without reuenge? Firſt will I make him die that giues me death: Deſire to liue ſo long I will retaine Till iuſtly I haue that Vſurper ſlaine. Yeeld Griefe vnto Reuenge: Pittie to Rag, Death vnto life, till with my life I haue Reueng'd the death, another guiltles gaue. This Steele ſhall not drinke mine vnuenged blood, My hand ſhall rage ere it ſhall pitteous bee. What ere thou art that ioyſt my comfortes all, I'le make thee feele thy ruine in my fall. I'le place me heere eu'n in this very Groue, And as I ſee him but approach the Caue, This Dart ſhall ſodaine wound him in his ſide. It ſhalbe cowardlike to ſtrike him thus, I'le challenge him to ſingle combat, I: Not ſo; for to this place ſo knowne and vſd, Shepheards may come to hinder vs, and worſe: May ſearch the cauſe that moou'd me to this fight, Which to deny were wickedneſſe to faigne, Will make me faythleſſe held: and to diſcouer, Will blot her name with endleſſe infamiet In whom albeit I like not what I ſee, Yet what I lou'd I do, and euer ſhall. But what hope I to ſee, th'adult'rer die That robd her of her honor, me my life? But if I kill him, ſhall not then his blood Be to the world a token of this deed? Why feare I death? ſince I deſire to die. But then this murder once made plaine, makes plaine The cauſe whereby ſhe ſhall incurre that infamie: I'le enter then this Caue, and ſo aſſayle him, I ſo, that pleaſeth me: I'le ſteale in ſoftly, So that ſhe ſhall not heare me. I beleeue That in the ſecretſt and the cloſeſt part I gather by her wordes I ſhall her finde, Therefore I will not enter in too farre. A hollow hole there is made in a Rocke, The left ſide couer'd all with Yie leaues: Beneath th'other aſſcent there will I ſtand, And tune attend t'effect what I deſire: I'le beare my dead foe to my lyuing foe; Thus of them both I ſhalbe well reueng'd: Then with this ſelfe ſame Dart Ile pierce this breſt, So ſhall there be three pier'ſt without reliefe, Firſt two with Steele, the third with deadly griefe, (Fierſe) ſhe ſhall ſee the miſerable end Of her belou'd, and her betrayed friend, This Caue that ſhould be harbour of her ioyes, Of both her loues, and that which more I craue, Of her great ſhame, may proue the happy graue. And you the ſteppes that I in vaine haue followed, Could you me ſpeed of ſuch a faythfull way? Could you direct me to ſo deare a Bowre? Behold I follow you. O Coriſea, Coriſea, Now haſt thou told too true, now I beleeue thee.