Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 43 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan · 470 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Oh desperate Silvio! Oh cruel Boy! What didst thou then? Disdaind'st thou not his deed? As if the heat of his disdain had been Of love unto my heart the greatest fire, So by his rage increased my desire: Yet still pursuing him unto the chase, Keeping my broken way, I Lupus met, here thought I good with him to change my clothes, And in his servile habit me to hide, That 'mongst the Swains I for a Swain might pass, And at my pleasure see my Sila●o. Wentest thou to hunt in likeness of a Wolf, Seen by the Dogs, and yet returned'st safe? Domida, thou hast done 〈◊〉. No wonder 'tis, the dogs could do no harm Unto their masters 〈...〉. There stood I 〈...〉 sort Of neighbour 〈...〉, Rather to see the 〈...〉. At every 〈...〉 Beast My heart did quake: 〈...〉 My soul step: 〈...〉 But my chief hope the 〈...〉 disterbed, Of that immeasurable Boor 〈...〉, Like as the ravenous strength of 〈◊〉 storm In little time brings trees and rocks to ground: So by his tusks bedewed with blood and foam, We see Dogs slain, staves broke, and wounded men. How many times did my poor blood desire For Siluioes' blood to combat with the Boor, How often times would I have stepped to make My breast a buckler for my Siluioes' breast, How often said I in selfe, excuse, Excuse the dainty lap of my dear Love: So to myself spoke I with praying sighs, Whilst he his Dog all armed with hardened skin, Let's loose against the Beast, who waxed proud Of having made a wretched quarries sight Of wounded shepherds and dogs slain outright: Linea, I cannot tell this Dogs great worth, And Silvio loves him not without good cause. Look how an angry Lion entertains The pointed horns of some undaunted Bull, Sometime with force, sometime with policy, And fastens at the last his mighty paws So on his back as no power can removed: So strong Me●●●●p ' avoiding craftily The Boors swift 〈◊〉 and mortal wounding blows: At last taints on his ear, which first he shakes, And afterward so firmly him he holds, As his vast sides might wounded be at ease: The dismal token of a deadly stroke, The Silvio innocating Phoebe's name, Du●ct this blow (said he) and here I vow To sacrifice to thee his ghastly head. This laid, from out his q●uer of pure gold, He taketh a speedy Shaft, and to his ear He draws his mighty Bow, and straight the Boor Between his neck and shoulder wounded, dies: I freed a sigh, seeing my Silvio safe. Oh happy beast mightst thy life so leave, By him that hearts from human beasts doth reave. But what became of that same fearful beast?
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)
Oh deſperate Siluio! Oh cruell Boy! What didſt thou then? Diſdaind'ſt thou not his deed? As if the heate of his diſdaine had been Of loue vnto my hart the greateſt fire, So by his rage increaſed my deſire: Yet ſtill purſuing him vnto the chace, Keeping my broken way, I Lupus met, Heere thought I good with him to change my cloathes, And in his ſeruile habite me to hide, That mongſt the Swaines I for a Swaine might paſſe, And at my pleaſure ſee my Silao. Went'ſt thou to hunt in likeneſſe of a Woolfe, Seene by the Dogges, and yet return'ſt ſafe? Domida, thou haſt done . No wonder t'is, the Dogge could do no harme Vnto their Maiſters . There ſtood I ſort Of neighbour , Rather to ſee the . At euery Beaſt My hart did quake: My ſoule ſtep: But my chiefe hope the diſterb'd, Of that immeaſurable Boore , Like as the rau'nous ſtrength of ſtorme In little time bringes trees and rockes to ground: So by his tuskes bedew'd with blood and foame, VVe ſee Dogges ſlaine, Staues broke, and wounded men. How many times did my poore blood deſire For Siluioes blood to combat with the Boore, How often times would I haue ſtept to make My breſt a buckler for my Siluioes breſt, How often ſayd I in my ſefe, excuſe, Excuſe the daintie lapp of my deare Loue: So to my ſelfe ſpake I with praying ſighes, VVhilſt he his Dogge all arm'd with hardned skin, Lets looſe againſt the Beaſt, who waxed proud Of hauing made a wretched quarries ſight Of wounded Shepheardes and Dogges ſlaine outright: Linca, I cannot tell this Dogges great worth, And Siluio loues him not without good cauſe. Looke how an angry Lyon entertaines The poynted hornes of ſome vndaunted Bull, Sometime with force, ſometime with pollicie, And faſtens at the laſt his mightie pawes So on his backe as no powre can remou't: So ſtrong Mep' auoyding craftely The Boores ſwift and mortall wounding blowes: At laſt taints on his eare, which firſt he ſhakes, And afterward ſo firmely him he holdes, As his vaſt ſides might wounded be at eaſe: The diſmall token of a deadly ſtroke, The Siluio innocating Phoebes name, Duct this blow (ſayd he) and here I vow To ſacrifize to thee his gaſtly head. This lyd, from out his quer of pure gold, He takes a ſpeedy Shat, and to his eare He drawes his mighty Bow, and ſtraight the Boore Betweene his neck and ſhoulder wounded, dyes: I free'd a ſigh, ſeeing my Silui ſafe. Oh happy beaſt mightſt thy life ſo leaue, By him that hartes from humane beaſtes doth reaue. But what became of that ſame fearefull beaſt?