Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 58 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Now hear a miracle: She that before so fearful was to die, Changed on the sudden by Mirtilloes words, Thus answers with a bold undaunted heart: Think'st thou (my dear) then by thy death to gain Life to her death, that by thy life doth live. O miracle unjust: on Ministers, on on, why do you stay? Lead me forthwith unto mine end: I'll no such pity I, Mirtill replies, Live cruel piteous love, My heart his spiteful pity doth reprove: To me it longs to die. Nay then to me (She answers) that by Law condemned am: And here anew begins a wondrous strife, As though that life were death, and death were life. (O souls well borne) O couple worthy of Eternal honour, never dying praise: O living, and o dying glorious lovers. Had I so many tongues, so many voices, As Heaven hath eyes, or Ocean sea hath sands; All would be dumb and hoarse in setting out Their wondrous and incomprehended praise. Eternal Child of heaven, O glorious Dame, That mortal deeds enchroniclest to time, Write thou this History, and it enfold In solid Diamond with words of gold. But what end had this mortal quarrel then? Mirtillo vanquisheth? O rare debate, Where dead on living gets the victory. The Priest speaks to your Child, be quiet Nymph, We cannot change this doom, for he must die That offers death, our Law commands it so: And after bids, your Daughter should be kept, Lest griefs extreme should bring her desperate death▪ Thus stood the state When Montane sent me for thee. In sooth 'tis true, sweet scented Flowers shall cease To dwell on rivers banks, and Woods in Spring Shall be without their Leaves, before a Maid Adorned with youth, shall set sweet Love at nought: But if we stay still here, how shall we know When it is time unto the Church to go? here best of all, for in this place alas, Shall the good Shepherd sacrificed be. And why not in the Church? Because there where The fault is done, the punishment must be. And why not in the Cave? there was the fault. Because to open skies it must be hallowed. And how know'st thou all these misteriall rites? From the Highpriest, who from Tireno had them, For true Amintas and untrue Lucrine, Were sacrificed so: But now 'tis time to go; See where the sacred Pempe softly descends: 'twere well done of us by this other way, To go unto the Temple to thy daughter. OH daughter of great Jove, sister of Phoebus' bright, Thou second Titan, to the blinder world that givest light Thou that with thy well tempered vital ray, Thy brother's wondrous heat doth well allay, Which mak'st sweet Nature happily bring forth Rich fertile births of Herbs, of Beasts, of Men: As thou his heat dost quench, so calm thine ire That sets Arcadia's wretched hearts on fire. O daughter of great Ioue. etc.
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 heare a miracle: Shee that before ſo fearefull was to die, Chaung'd on the ſodaine by Mirtilloes wordes, Thus anſweres with a bold vndaunted hart: Think'ſt thou (my deare) then by thy death to gaine Life to her death, that by thy life doth liue. O miracle vniuſt: on Miniſters, on on, why do you ſtay? Leade me foorthwith vnto mine end: Ile no ſuch pittie I, Mirtill replies, Liue cruell pitteous loue, My hart his ſpightfull pittie doth reproue: To me it longes to die. Nay then to me (She anſweres) that by Law condemned am: And heere anew begins a wondrous ſtrife, As though that life were death, and death were life. (O ſoules well borne) O couple worthy of Eternall honour, neuer dying prayſe: O liuing, and o dying glorious louers. Had I ſo many tongues, ſo many voyces, As Heauen hath eyes, or Ocean ſea hath ſandes; All would be dumbe and hoarſe in ſetting out Their wondrous and incomprehended prayſe. Eternall Childe of heauen, O glorious Dame, That mortall deedes enchronicleſt to time, Write thou this Hiſtorie, and it infold In ſolid Diamond with wordes of gold. But what end had this mortall quarrell then? Mirtillo vanquiſheth? O rare debate, Where dead on lyuing getts the victorie. The Prieſt ſpeakes to your Child, be quiet Nimph, We cannot change this doome, for he muſt die That offers death, our Law commaunds it ſo: And after bids, your Daughter ſhould be kept, Leaſt griefes extreame ſhould bring her deſperate death▪ Thus ſtood the ſtate When Montane ſent me for thee. In ſooth tis true, ſweete ſcented Flowers ſhall ceaſe To dwell on Riuers bankes, and Woodes in Spring Shall be without their Leaues, before a Mayde Adorn'd with youth, ſhall ſet ſweete Loue at naught: But if we ſtay ſtill heere, how ſhall we know When it is time vnto the Church to go? Heere beſt of all, for in this place alas, Shall the good Shepheard ſacrifized be. And why not in the Church? Becauſe there where The fault is done, the puniſhment muſt be. And why not in the Caue? there was the fault. Becauſe to open skyes it muſ be hallow'd. And how knowſt thou all theſe miſteriall rites? From the High-prieſt, who from Tireno had them, For true Amintas and vntrue Lucrine, Were ſacrifized ſo: But now tis time to goe; See where the ſacred Pempe ſoftly deſcendes: Twere well done of vs by this other way, To go vnto the Temple to thy daughter. OH daughter of great Joue, ſiſter of Phebus bright, Thou ſecond Titan, to the blinder world that giueſt light Thou that with thy well temper'd vitall ray, Thy brothers wondrous heate doth well allay, Which mak'ſt ſweete Nature happely bring foorth Rich firtile birthes of Hearbes, of Beaſtes, of Men: As thou his heate doſt quench, ſo calme thine ire That ſets Arcadiaes wretched hartes on fire. O daughter of great Ioue. &c.