Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 41 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 · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
If it do sigh or speak, 'tis like the wrath Of an enraged Lion that would fight: And not the skies alone but even poor fields, Are blasted with the flames his lightning wields. Whilst thou with Lamps most sweet, And with an amorous angelic light Of two Suns visible that never meet, Dost always the tempestuous troubled sprite Of thy beholder quiet and delight: Sound, motion, light, that beauty doth assume, State, daintiness, and value, do aright Mix such a harmony in that far sight, That skies themselves with vanity presume, If less than Paradise those skies do shine To Paragon with thee (thing most divine) Good reason hath that sovereign creature (named A Man) to whom all mortal things do how, If thee beholding, higher cause allow And yield to be. What though he rule and triumph truly famed, It is not for high powers more worth do see In him than is in thee, Either of sceptre or of victory: But for to make thee far more glorious stand, Because the Conqurour thou dost command: And s●'t must be, for man's humanity Is subject still to Beauty's duty. Who will not trust this, but contrary saith, Let him behold Mirtilloes wondrous faith: Yet Woman to thy worth this is a stain, Love is made love so hopelessly and vain. SO fixed was my heart and whole intent In bringing of this Deer unto the bow, That I forgotten had my dearest heir That brutish villain robbed me of: Oh how I grieved, With such a price to purchase mine escape: But 'twas of force to get out of the hands Of that same senseless beast, who though he have Less heart than any Coney hath, yet might he do Me many injuries and many scorns. I always him despised: whilst he had blood In any of his veins (like a Horseleech) I sucked him still. Now doth it grieve him that I have given o'er to love him still; just cause he had. If one could love a most unlovely Beast, Like herbs that erst were got for wholesome use, The juice drawn out, they rest unprofitable, And like a stinking thing we them despise: So him, (when I had what so ere was good sucked out From him) how should I use, but throw the sapless trunk Unto the dunghill heap? Now will I see If Coridon be gotten close into the Cave. What news is this I see? Sleep I or do I wake? I am assured this caves mouth erst was open, How close 'tis shut? How is this ancient Stone? Rolled down? was it an Earthquake since. Yet would I know if Coridon were there With Amarillis, then cared I little for the rest, Certain he's there, for 'tis a good while since Lisetta gave him word. Who knows the contrary? 'Tmay be Mirtillo moved with disdain, Hath done this deed, he had he but my mind, Could only have performed this rare exploit. Well by the mountains way will I go see, And learn the troth of all how it hath past.
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)
Yf it do ſigh or ſpeake, t'is like the wrath Of an enraged Lion that would fight: And not the skies alone but euen poore fieldes, Are blaſted with the flames his lightning weildes. Whilst thou with Lampes moſt ſweete, And with an amorous angelicke light Of two Sunnes viſible that neuer meete, Doſt alwayes the tempeſteous troubled ſpright Of thy beholder quiet and delight: Sound, motion, light, that beautie doth aſſume, State, daintineſse, and valew, do aright Mixe ſuch a harmony in that farre ſight, That skyes themſelues with vanitie preſume, Yf leſſe then Paradice thoſe skies do ſhine To Paragon with thee (thing moſt deuine) Good reaſon hath that ſoueraigne creature (nam'd A Man) to whom all mortall thinges do how, If thee beholding, higher cauſe allow And yeeld to bee. What though he rule and triumph truely fam'd, It is not for high powers more worth do ſee In him then is in thee, Either of ſcepter or of victorie: But for to make thee farre more glorious ſtand, Becauſe the Conqurour thou doſt commaund: And ſ't muſt bee, for mans humanitie Is ſubiect ſtill to Beauties deutie. Who will not truſt this, but contrary ſaith, Let him behold Mirtilloes wondrous fayth: Yet Woman to thy worth this is a ſtaine, Loue is made loue ſo hopeleſly and vaine. SO fixed was my hart and whole intent In bringing of this Deere vnto the bow, That I forgotten had my deareſt heire That brutiſh villaine robd me of: Oh how I grieud, With ſuch a price to purchace mine eſcape: But t'was of force to get out of the handes Of that ſame ſenceles beaſt, who though he haue Leſſe hart then any Conny hath, yet might he do Me many iniuries and many skornes. I alwayes him deſpiſd: whilſt he had blood In any of his vaines (like a Horſe-leach) I ſuckt him ſtill. Now doth it grieue him that I haue giu'n o're to loue him ſtill; iuſt cauſe he had. If one could loue a moſt vnlouely Beaſt, Like hearbes that earſt were got for holſome vſe, The iuice drawne out, they reſt vnprofitable, And like a ſtinking thing we them deſpiſe: So him, (when I had what ſo ere was good ſuckt out From him) how ſhould I vſe, but throw the ſaples trunke Vnto the dunghill heape? Now will I ſee Yf Coridon be gotten cloſe into the Caue. What newes is this I ſee? Sleepe I or do I wake? I am aſſurd this Caues mouth erſt was ope, How cloſe tis ſhut? How is this auncient Stone? Rould downe? was it an Earthquake ſince. Yet would I know if Coridon were there With Amarillis, then car'd I little for the reſt, Certaine hee's there, for tis a good while ſince Liſetta gaue him word. Who knowes the contrary? T'may be Mirtillo moued with diſdaine, Hath done this deed, hee had hee but my minde, Could onely haue perform'd this rare exployte. Well by the Mountaines way will I go ſee, And learne the troth of all how it hath paſt.