Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 64 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 472 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
Art thou Mirtilloes father then? how lost you him? The deluge ravished him, whom when I lost, I left more safe, now found, I lose him most. Eternal providence which with thy counsel hast Brought all these occurrents to this only point, thouart great with child of some huge monstrous birth, Either great good or ill thou wilt bring forth. This 'twas my sleep foretold, deceitful sleep. In ill too time, in good too lying still. This was th' unwonted pity, and the sudden horror that I felt to stay the axe and shake my bones: For nature sure abhors a stroke should come From father's hands, so wild abominable. Will you then execute the wicked sacrifice? By other hands he may not at these Altars die. Why will the father murder then the son? So bids our law, and were it piety to spare Him since the true Amyntas would not spare himself? O wicked Fates, me whither have ye brought? To see two fathers sovereign pity made a homicide▪ Yours to Mirtillo, mine unto the Gods, His father you denying for to be, Him thought to save, and him you lost thereby, Thinking and seeking, I to kill your son, Mine own have found, and must mine own go kill. Behold the monster horrible this Fate brings forth. O cruel chance (Mirtillo) o my life. Is this that which the Oracle told of thee? Thus in my native soil hast thou me happy made: O son of me poor old and wretched man, Lately my hope, my life, now my despair and death. To me Carino leave these woeful tears, I plain my blood: my blood, why say I so, Since I it shed? poor son why got I thee? Why wert thou borne? did the mild waters save thy life, The cruel father might the same bereave? Sacred immortal powers, without whose deep insight No wave doth stir in seas, no blast in skies, No leaf upon the earth: what great offence Have I committed, that I worthy am With my poor offspring for to war with heaven? If I offended have, oh yet my son What hath he done you cannot pardon him? O Iupiter the great disdainful blast Would quickly suffocate my aged sense, But if thy thunder bolts will not, my weapons shall. The dolorous example I'll renew, Of good Amyntas our beloved Priest, My son amazed shall see his father slain, Ere I a father will go kill my son: Die thou Montane, 'tis only sit for thee, O powers, I cannot say whether of heaven or hell, That agitooke with grief, dispairefull minds, Behold your fury thus it pleaseth you. I nought desire save only speedy death, A poor desire my wretched life to end, Some comfort seems to my sad sprite to send.
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)
Art thou Mirtilloes father then? how loſt you him? The deluge rauiſht him, whom when I loſt, I left more ſafe, now found, I leeſe him moſt. Eternal prouidence which with thy counſell haſt Brought all theſe occurrents to this onely point, Th'art great with childe of ſome huge monſtrous birth, Either great good or ill thou wilt bring forth. This t'was my ſleepe foretold, deceitfull ſleepe. In ill too time, in good too lying ſtill. This was th' vnwonted pitie, and the ſudden horror that I felt to ſtay the axe and ſhake my bones: For nature ſure abhorres a ſtroke ſhould come From fathers hands, ſo vilde abhominable. Will you then execute the wicked ſacrifice? By other hands he may not at theſe Altars die. Why will the father murder then the ſonne? So bids our law, and were it pietie to ſpare Him ſince the true Amyntas would not ſpare himſelfe? O wicked Fates, me whither haue ye brought? To ſee two fathers ſoueraigne pitie made a homicide▪ Yours to Mirtillo, mine vnto the Gods, His father you denying for to bee, Him thought to ſaue, and him you loſt thereby, Thinking and ſeeking, I to kill your ſonne, Mine owne haue found, and muſt mine owne go kill. Behold the monſter horrible this Fate brings forth. O cruell chance (Mirtillo) ô my life. Is this that which the Oracle told of thee? Thus in my natiue ſoyle haſt thou me happy made: O ſonne of me poore old and wretched man, Lately my hope, my life, now my diſpaire and death. To me Carino leaue theſe wofull teares, I plaine my bloud: my bloud, why ſay I ſo, Since I it ſhead? poore ſonne why got I thee? Why wert thou borne? did the milde waters ſaue thy life, The cruell father might the ſame bereaue? Sacred immortal powers, without whoſe deep inſight No waue doth ſtirre in ſeas, no blaſt in skies, No leafe vpon the earth: what great offence Haue I committed, that I worthy am With my poore off-ſpring for to warre with heauen? If I offended haue, oh yet my ſonne What hath he done you cannot pardon him? O Iupiter the great diſdainfull blaſt Would quickly ſuffocate my aged ſence, But if thy thunder bolts will not, my weapons ſhall. The dolorous example Ile renew, Of good Amyntas our beloued Prieſt, My ſonne amaz'd ſhall ſee his father ſlaine, Ere I a father will go kill my ſonne: Die thou Montane, tis onely ſit for thee, O powers, I cannot ſay whether of heauen or hell, That agitooke with griefe, diſpairefull mindes, Behold your fury thus it pleaſeth you. I nought deſire ſaue onely ſpeedie death, A poore deſire my wretched life to end, Some comfort ſeemes to my ſad ſpright to ſend.