Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 46 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
NOw crown my temples with triumphant Bays, Victorious ten bless, this day happily I combated have in the field of Love, And vanquished: this day both heaven and earth, Nature and Art, Fortune and Destiny, Both friends and enemies have fought for me. The wicked Satire whom I hated so, Hath helped me much: for it was better that Mirtillo should, than Coridon, be ta'en, To make her fault more likely and more ill: What though Mirtillo taken be, he'll soon be free, To her alone the punishment is due. O solemn victory, On famous triumph, Dress me a Trophy amorous deceits, You in this tongue, in this same precious breast Are above Nature most omnipotent. Why stay I now? 'tis time for me to go, Until the Law have judged my rival dead, Perhaps the Priest may draw the troth from me: Fly then Corisea, danger 'tis to lie, For them that have no feet wherewith to fly▪ I'll hide me in these woods until I may Return t'enjoy my joys: happy Corisea, Who ever saw a braver enterprise? He had a heart most hard, or rather had No heart at all, nor any human sense, That did not pity thee poor wretched Nymph, And felt no sorrow for thy misery: Only to see a Damsel captivate, Of heavenly countenance and so sweet a face, Worthy the world should to thee consecrate Temples and Sacrifices, led to the Temple For a Sacrifice, surely 'twere a thing That with dry eyes I think none could behold: But who knows how and wherefore thou wert borne? Titirus daughter, Montan'es' daughter in law, That should have been, and that these two are they Which do uphold Arcadia, and that thyself A dainty Nymph, so fair of form, The natural confines of this thy life, Approachest now so near the bounds of death: He that knows this, and doth not plain the same, He is no man, but beast, in human shape. If that my fault did cause my wretchedness, Or that my thoughts were wicked, as thou thinkst My deed, less grievous would my death be then: For it were just my blood should wash the spots Of my defiled soul, heavens rage appease, And human justice justly satisfy, Then could I quiet my afflicted sprights, And with a just remorse of well-deserued death, My senses mortify, and come to death: And with a quiet blow pass forth perhaps Unto a life of more tranquillity: But too too much Nicander too much grieved I am, in so young years Fortune so high, An Innocent, I should be doomed to die. Ah pleased it heavens we had 'gainst thee offended, Not thou offended 'gainst the heavenly powers: For we alas with greater case might have Restored thee to thy violated name, Then thou appeased their violated powers: But I see not who thee offended hath, Saving thyself. Tell me? wert thou not found In a close place with the Adulterer, alone With him alone? Were't thou not promised Unto Montanus son? Hast thou not broke thy faith? How art thou innocent?
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)
NOw crowne my temples with triumphant Bayes, Victorious ten ples, this day happely I combated haue in the field of Loue, And vanquiſhed: this day both heauen and earth, Nature and Art, Fortune and Deſtenie, Both friendes and enemies haue fought for mee. The wicked Satyre whom I hated ſo, Hath helpt me much: for it was better that Mirtillo ſhould, then Coridon, be ta'ne, To make her fault more likely and more ill: VVhat though Mirtillo taken be, hee'le ſoone be free, To her alone the puniſhment is due. O ſolemne victorie, On famous triumph, Dreſſe me a Trophee amorous deceites, You in this toung, in this ſame precious breſt Are aboue Nature moſt omnipotent. VVhy ſtay I now? t'is time for me to go, Vntill the Law haue iudg'd my riuall dead, Perhaps the Prieſt may draw the troth from mee: Fly then Coriſea, daunger t'is to ly, For them that haue no feete wherewith to fly▪ I'le hide me in theſe woodes vntill I may Returne t'enioy my ioyes: happy Coriſea, VVho euer ſaw a brauer enterpriſe? HEe had a hart moſt hard, or rather had No hart at all, nor any humane ſence, That did not pittie thee poore wretched Nimph, And felt no ſorrow for thy miſerie: Onely to ſee a Damſell captiuate, Of heauenly countenance and ſo ſweete a face, VVorthy the world ſhould to thee conſecrate Temples and Sacrifices, led to the Temple For a Sacrifice, ſurely t'were a thing That with dry eyes I thinke none could behold: But who knowes how and wherefore thou wert borne? Titirus daughter, Montan'es daughter in law, That ſhould haue been, and that theſe two are they VVhich do vphold Arcadia, and that thy ſelfe A daintie Nimph, ſo faire of forme, The naturall confines of this thy life, Approacheſt now ſo neare the boundes of death: Hee that knowes this, and doth not plaine the ſame, He is no man, but beaſt, in humane ſhape. If that my fault did cauſe my wretchedneſſe, Or that my thoughtes were wicked, as thou thinkſt My deed, leſſe greeuous would my death be then: For it were iuſt my blood ſhould waſh the ſpots Of my defiled ſoule, heauens rage appeaſe, And humane iuſtice iuſtly ſatisfie, Then could I quiet my afflicted ſprights, And with a iuſt remorſe of well-deſerued death, My ſenſes mortifie, and come to death: And with a quiet blow paſſe foorth perhaps Vnto a life of more tranquilitie: But too too much Nicander too much grieu'd I am, in ſo young yeeres Fortune ſo hie, An Innocent, I ſhould be doom'd to die. Ah pleaſd it heauens we had gainſt thee offended, Not thou offended gainſt the heauenly powers: For we alas with greater caſe might haue Reſtor'd thee to thy violated name, Then thou appeaſd their violated powers: But I ſee not who thee offended hath, Sauing thy ſelfe. Tell me? wert thou not found In a cloſe place with the Adulterer, alone With him alone? Wer't thou not promiſed Vnto Montanus ſonne? Haſt thou not broke thy fayth? How art thou innocent?