Il Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd · chunk 69 of 71
Dymoke, Tailboys / Guarini, Giovanni Battista · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
Now Amarillis hath resigned her life, I will go see what dear Mirtillo doth. O day of wonders, day all love, all grace, All joy, o happy land, o heavens benign. See where Ergasto is, he comes in time. Now all things joyful are, the earth, the air, The skies, the fire, the world, and all things laugh. Our joys have pierced the lowest hell, nor is There any place that not partakes our bliss. How jocund is this man? O happy woods That often sighed and wept out woeful case, Enjoy our joys, and use as many tongues As leaves that leap at sound of these sweet winds, Which ●●●l'd with our rejoicings calmly smile, Sing they the sweet adventures of these friends. He speaks of Silvio and Dorinda sure, Well, we must live, tears are no sooner ebbed, But straight the flood of joy comes huffing in Or Amarillis, not a word he speaks Only takes care to joy with them that joy. Why 'tis well done, for else this human life Would still be full of sighs: whither away Ergasto go'st so pleasantly, unto some marriage? Even so, but hast thou heard the happy chance Of the two fortunate Lovers? is't not rare Corisca? To my contentment even now I heard it all Of Linco, and t'doth somewhat mitigate The grief I for my Amarillis feel. Why Amarillis? Of whom think'st thou I speak? Of Silvio and Dorinda man. What Silvio? what Dorinda? thou know'st nought, My joy grows from a higher nobler root. I Amarillis and Mirtillo sing, The best contented subjects of loves ring. Why is not Amarillis dead? How dead? I tell thee she's a bright and merry Bride. Was she not then condemned unto death? She was condemned, but soon released again. Tellest thou me dreams? or dreaming do I hear? Thine eyes shall tell thee if thou'lt stay a while, Soon shalt thou see her with her faithful friend Come from the Temple, where they plighted have Their marriage troth, and so go to Montanus house To reap sweet fruit of their long amorous toils. O hadst thou seen (Corisca) the huge joy, The mighty noise of joy full voices, and Th'innumerable troops of men and women, Thou shouldst have seen, old, young, sacred and profane, But little less than mad or drunk with 〈◊〉. With wonder who ran not to see the Lovers? Each reverence to each them embraced there. Some praised their pity, some their constancy. Some praised the gifts that Ioue, and some that nature gave. The hills, the dales, the meadows did resound, The glorious name of faithful Shepherd, From a poor Shepherd to become so soon A demi-god, and in a moment pass From life to death, the neighbour obsequies To change for unexpected and despaired nuptials. This is some what (Corisca) but not half Her to enjoy, for whom he sought to die, Her that disdained to live if he had died, This is fortune, this is such a sweet As thought prevents, and yet thou art not glad. Is not thy Amarillis then as dear to thee, As my Mirtillo is to me?
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 Amarillis hath reſign'd her life, I will go ſee what deare Mirtillo doth. O day of wonders, day all loue, all grace, All ioy, ô happie land, ô heauens benigne. See where Ergaſto is, he comes in time. Now all things ioyfull are, the earth, the ayre, The skies, the fire, the world, and all things laugh. Our ioyes haue pierc't the loweſt hell, nor is There any place that not partakes our bliſſe. How iocond is this man? O happy woods That often ſigh'd and wept out wofull caſe, Enioy our ioyes, and vſe as many tongues As leaues that leape at ſound of theſe ſweet windes, Which l'd with our reioycings calmely ſmile, Sing they the ſweet aduentures of theſe friends. He ſpeakes of Siluio and Dorinda ſure, Well, we muſt liue, teares are no ſooner ebb'd, But ſtraight the floud of ioy comes huſſing in Or Amarillis, not a word he ſpeakes Onely takes care to ioy with them that ioy. Why tis well done, for elſe this humane life Would ſtill be full of ſighes: whither away Ergasto go'ſt ſo pleaſantly, vnto ſome marriage? Euen ſo, but haſt thou heard the happy chance Of the two fortunate Louers? is't not rare Coriſca? To my contentment euen now I heard it all Of Linco, and t'doth ſomewhat mittigate The griefe I for my Amarillis feele. Why Amarillis? Of whom think'ſt thou I ſpeak? Of Siluio and Dorinda man. What Siluio? what Dorinda? thou know'ſt nought, My ioy growes from a higher nobler roote. I Amarillis and Mirtillo ſing, The beſt contented ſubiects of loues ring. Why is not Amarillis dead? How dead? I tell thee ſhee's a bright and merrie Bide. Was ſhe not then condemned vnto death? She was condemn'd, but ſoone releaſt againe. Telſt thou me dreames? or dreaming do I heare? Thine eies ſhall tell thee if thou'lt ſtay a while, Soone ſhalt thou ſee her with her faithfull friend Come from the Temple, where they plighted haue Their marriage troth, and ſo go to Montanus huſe To reape ſweet fruit of their long amorous toiles. O hadſt thou ſeene (Coriſca) the huge ioy, The mightie noyſe of ioy full voyces, and Th'innumerable troupes of men and women, Thou ſhould'ſt haue ſeene, old, young, ſacred and prophane, But litle leſſe then mad or drunke with . With wonder who ranne not to ſee the Louers? Each reuerence to each them embraced there. Some praiſ'd their pitie, ſome their conſtancie. Some praiſ'd the gifts that Ioue, and ſome that nature gaue. The hills, the dales, the meadowes did reſound, The glorious name of faithfull Shepheard, From a poore Shepheard to become ſo ſoone A Demy-god, and in a moment paſſe From life to death, the neighbour obſequies To chaunge for vnexpected and diſpaired nuptialls. This is ſome what (Coriſca) but not halfe Her to enioy, for whom he ſought to die, Her that diſdaind to liue if he had dy'de, This is fortune, this is ſuch a ſweet As thought preuents, and yet thou art not glad. Is not thy Amarillis then as deare to thee, As my Mirtillo is to mee?