Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 68 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral T3 Sickness, physic and doctors typicality 0.68 · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T3: doctor, master, cure, disease, pray, physic, physician, mr, sick, lady.
From top to toe i'll tell the wondrous cure. About the wounded Nymph stood men and women, Each with a ready hand, but trembling heart. But fair Dorinda would not any should Save Silvio touch her, saying that the hand Which was her hurt, should be her remedy. Silvio, his mother, and I, stayed there alone, Working with counsel too one with his hand, Silvio when gently he had wiped away The bloody streams that stained her ivory flesh, Assays to draw the shaft out of the wound, But the wild steal yielding unto his hand, Left hidden in the wound the harmful head. Hence came the grief, for 'twas impossible With cunning hand, or dainty instrument, Or other means, to draw it out from thence. Opening the wound perhaps with wider wound He might have found the steel with other steel. So mought he do, or so he must have done, But too too piteous, and too loving now Was Siluioes' hand, for such like cruel pity By such hard means, love never healeth wounds. Although it seemed to her that pain itself Was pleasant now between her Siluioes' hands. He not amazed says thus: this head shall out, And with less pain than any will believe. I put it there, and though I be not able straight To take it out, yet with the use of hunting I will restore the loss I have by hunting. I do remember now an herb that is well known Unto the savage Goat, when he is wounded With some Huntsman's shaft: this they to us, Nature to them bewrayed, and 'tis hard by. All suddenly he parts unto a neighbour hill, And there a bundle gathers, straight to us He comes, and out he draws the juice thereof, And mingles it with vervine seed, and root Of centaurs blood, making a plaster soft, Which on the wound he lays: virtue miraculous, The pain straight ceased, the blood was quickly stayed, The steel straightway without or toil or pain, The workman's hand obeying, issues out. And now her strength returns to her again, As though she had not suffered wound at all: Nor was it mortal, for it had untouched Both left the bones and bellies outward run, And only pierced into the musclouse flanke. Great virtue of an herb, but much more great For fortune of a woman hast thou told. That which between them past when this was done, Is better to be gesled at then be told. Dorinda sure is well, and with her side Can serve herself to any use she likes. Thou think'st she hath endured more wounds by this, But as the piercing weapons divers are, So are the wounds: of some the grief is sharp, Of some 'tis sweet, one healing waxeth sound, The less an other heals, the sounder 'tis. In hunting he to shoot such pleasure found, That now he loves he cannot choose but wound. Still thou wilt be that amorous Linco. In mind but not in force my dear Corisca, Green blooms desire within this aged trunk.
nodes 4343–4405 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 68 of 71 in this edition
Length
516 words · 654 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T3 — Sickness, physic and doctorscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.679 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T3 · seed 44: T4 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
From top to toe ile tell the wondrous cure. About the wounded Nymph ſtood men and women, Each with a ready hand, but trembling heart. But faire Dorinda would not any ſhould Saue Siluio touch her, ſaying that the hand Which was her hurt, ſhould be her remedie. Siluio, his mother, and I, ſtay'd there alone, Working with counſell too one with his hand, Siluio when gently he had wip'd away The bloudie ſtreames that ſtain'd her Iuory fleſh, Aſſayes to draw the ſhaft out of the wound, But the vilde ſteale yeelding vnto his hand, Left hidden in the wound the harmfull head. Hence came the griefe, for t'was impoſſible With cunning hand, or daintie inſtrument, Or other meanes, to draw it out from thence. Opening the wound perhaps with wider wound He might haue found the ſteele with other ſteele. So mought he do, or ſo he muſt haue done, But too too pitious, and too louing now Was Siluioes hand, for ſuch like cruell pitie By ſuch hard meanes, loue neuer healeth wounds. Although it ſeem'd to her that paine it ſelfe Was pleaſant now betweene her Siluioes hands. He not amaz'd ſayes thus: this head ſhall out, And with leſſe paine then any will beleeue. I put it there, and though I be not able ſtraight To take it out, yet with the vſe of hunting I will reſtore the loſſe I haue by hunting. I do remember now an hearbe that is well knowne Vnto the ſauadge Goate, when he is wounded With ſome Huntſmans ſhaft: this they to vs, Nature to them bewray'd, and t'is hard by. All ſuddenly he parts vnto a neighbour hill, And there a bundle gathers, ſtraight to vs He comes, and out he drawes the iuyce thereof, And mingles it with veruine ſeed, and roote Of Centaures bloud, making a playſter ſoft, Which on the wound he laies: vertue myraculous, The pain ſtraight ceaſ'd, the bloud was quickly ſtaid, The ſteele ſtraightway without or toile or paine, The workmans hand obeying, iſſues out. And now her ſtrength returnes to her againe, As though ſhe had not ſuffered wound at all: Nor was it mortall, for it had vntoucht Both left the bones and bellies outward runne, And onely pieſt into the muſclouſe ſlanke. Great vertue of an hearb, but much more great For fortune of a woman haſt thou tolde. That which betweene them paſt when this was done, Is better to be geſl'd at then be told. Dorinda ſure is well, and with her ſide Can ſerue her ſelfe to any vſe ſhe likes. Thou think'ſt ſhe hath endur'd more wounds by this, But as the piercing weapons diuers are, So are the wounds: of ſome the griefe is ſharpe, Of ſome t'is ſweet, one healing waxeth ſound, The leſſe an other heales, the ſounder t'is. In hunting he to ſhoote ſuch pleaſure found, That now he loues he cannot chooſe but wound. Still thou wilt be that amorous Linco. In mind but not in force my deare Coriſca, Greene bloomes dſire within this aged tronke.