The Queen's Arcadia (Arcadia Reformed) · chunk 29 of 41
Daniel, Samuel · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [Aug 30] (Annals) pastoral · before the Court unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I dreamed, that having gone to gather flowers, And weary of my work, reposing me Upon a bank near to a rivers side, A subtle Serpent lurking in the grass. Came secretly, and seized on my left breast, Which though I saw, I had no power to stir, But lay me still, till he had eat a way Into my bosom, whence he took my heart, And in his mouth carrying the same away, Returns, methought again from whence he came, Which I perceiving presently arose, And after it most woefully I went, To see if I could find my heart again, And up and down, I sought but all in vain. In troth 'tis no good luck to dream of Snakes, One shall be sure t'hear anger after it. And so it may be I have done today. Indeed and I have heard it never fails. Come you are talking here in jollity, Whilst I have sought you Cloris all about: Come, come, good Cloris quickly come away. What is the news? what have we now to do, Have you another Cave to send me too? Ah talk no more of that but come away, As ever you will save the woeful life Of a distressed man that dies for you. Why what doth Colax whom you sent to me Into the Cave, faint now with his repulse? I sent him not, you would so wisely go, In open sight, as men might see you go, And trace you thither all the way you went. But come, ah 'tis not he, it is the man You ought to save; Amyntas is the man Your cruelty, and rigour hath undone: O quickly come, or it will be too late; For 'twas his chance, and most unluckily, To see both you and Colax, as you came Out of the Cave, and he thinks verily You are possessed by him; which so confounds His spirits, and sinks his heart, that sure he's run T'undo himself, and o I fear 'tis done. If it be done, my help will come too late, And I may stay, and save that labour here. Ah Cloris haste away, if this be so, And do not, if thou hast a heart of flesh, And of a woman, stay and trifle time, Go run, and save thine own, for if he die, 'Tis thine that dies, his blood is shed for thee, And what a horror this will ever be Hereafter to thy guilty conscience, when Years shall have taught thee wit, and thou shalt find This deed enstamped in bloody Characters, Within the black records of thine own thoughts, Which never will be razed whilst thou hast breath, Nor yet will be forgotten by thy death. Besides wide Fame, will Trumpet forth thy wrong, And thou shalt be with all posterity, Amongst th' examples held of cruelty, And have this savage deed of thine be made A sullen subject for a Tragedy, Entitled Cloris, that thereby thy name May serve to be an everlasting shame; And therefore go prevent so foul a stain.
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)
I dreamt, that hauing gone to gather flowers, And weary of my worke, reposing me Vpon a banke neere to a Riuers side, A subtle Serpent lurking in the grasse. Came secretly, and seizd on my left breast, Which though I saw, I had no power to stirre, But lay me still, till he had eate a way Into my bosome, whence he tooke my heart, And in his mouth carrying the same away, Returnes, me thought againe from whence he came, Which I perceiuing presently arose, And after it most wofully I went, To see if I could finde my heart againe, And vp and downe, I sought but all in vaine. In troth 'tis no good luck to dreame of Snakes, One shall be sure t'heare anger after it. And so it may be I haue done to day. Indeed and I haue heard it neuer failes. Come you are talking here in iollitie, Whilst I haue sought you Cloris all about: Come, come, good Cloris quickly come away. What is the newes? what haue we now to doo, Haue you another Caue to send me too? Ah talke no more of that but come avvay, As euer you will saue the wofull life Of a distressed man that dyes for you. Why what doth Colax whom you sent to me Into the Caue, faint now with his repulse? I sent him not, you would so wisely goe, In open sight, as men might see you goe, And trace you thither all the way you went. But come, ah 'tis not he, it is the man You ought to saue; Amyntas is the man Your cruelty, and rigour hath vndone: O quickly come, or it will be too late; For 'twas his chance, and most vnluckely, To see both you and Colax, as you came Out of the Caue, and he thinkes verily You are possest by him; which so confounds His spirits, and sinckes his heart, that sure h'is runne T'vndoe himselfe, and ô I feare 'tis done. If it be done, my helpe will come too late, And I may stay, and saue that labour here. Ah Cloris haste away, if this be so, And doe not, if thou hast a heart of flesh, And of a woman, stay and trifle time, Goe runne, and saue thine owne, for if he die, 'Tis thine that dyes, his bloud is shed for thee, And what a horrour this will euer be Hereafter to thy guiltie conscience, when Yeares shall haue taught thee wit, and thou shalt finde This deed instampt in bloudy Characters, Within the black recordes of thine owne thoughts, Which neuer will be raz'd whilst thou hast breath, Nor yet will be forgotten by thy death. Besides wide Fame, will Trumpet forth thy wrong, And thou shalt be with all posteritie, Amongst th' examples held of crueltie, And haue this sauage deed of thine be made A sullein subiect for a Tragedie, Intitled Cloris, that thereby thy name May serue to be an euerlasting shame; And therefore goe preuent so foule a staine.