Fletcher, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1608 [1608-1609] (Annals) pastoral; tragicomedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.85 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
shepherds thus I purge away, Whatsoever this great day, Or the past hours gave not good, To corrupt your maiden blood: From the high rebellious heat, Of the grapes and strength of meat. From the wanton quick desires, They do kindle by their fires. I do wash you with this water, Be you pure and fair hereafter. From your livers and your veins, Thus I take away the stains. All your thoughts be smooth and fair, Be ye fresh and free as air. Never more let lustful heat, Through your purged conduits beat, Or a plighted troth be broken, Or a wanton verse be spoken: In a Shepherdess's ear, Go your ways you're all clear. Sing his praises that doth keep, our Flocks from harm, Pan the Father of our sheep, And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground, Fills the music with her sound, Pan, o great God, Pan to thee Thus do we sing: Thou that keepest us chaste and free, As the young spring, Ever be thy honour spoke, From that place the morn is broke, To that place Day doth unyoke. Stay gentle Amoret thou fair browed maid, Thy Shepherd prays thee stay, that holds thee de ere. Equal with his souls good: Speak, I give Thee freedom Shepherd, & thy tongue be still The same it ever was: as free from ill As he whose conversation never knew The court or city: be thou ever true. When I fall off from my affection, Or mingle my clean thoughts with foul desires, First let our great God cease to keep my flocks, That being left alone without a guard, The wolf, or winter's rage, summers great heat, And want of water, rots: or what to us Of ill is yet unknown, fall speedily, And in their general ruin let me go. I pray thee gentle Shepherd wish not so, I do believe thee: 'tis as hard for me To think thee false, and harder than for thee To hold me foul. o you are fairer far, Than the chaste blushing morn, or that fair star, That guides the wandering seaman through the deeps Straighter than the straightest pine upon the steep Head of an aged mountain, and more white, Than the new milk we strip before day light From the full freighted bags of our fair flocks: Your hair more beauteous than those hanging locks Of young Apollo. Shepherd be not lost, Ye are sailed too far already from the coast Of our discourse. Did you not tell me once I should not love alone, I should not lose Those many passions, vows and holy oaths, I have sent to heaven: did you not give your hand, Even that fair hand in hostage? do not then Give back again those sweets to other men. You yourself vowed were mine,
nodes 137–209 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 3 of 40 in this edition
Length
480 words · 609 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.850 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T24 · seed 44: T25 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Shepheards thus I purge away, Whatsoeuer this great day, Or the past houres gaue not good, To corrupt your maiden blood: From the high rebellious heat, Of the grapes and strength of meat. From the wanton quicke desires, They do kindle by their fires. I do wash you with this water, Be you pure and faire heereafter. From your liuers and your vaines, Thus I take away the staines. All your thoughts be smooth and faire, Be ye fresh and free as ayre. Neuer more let lustfull heat, Through your purged conduits beate, Or a plighted troth be broken, Or a wanton verse be spoken: In a Shepheardesses eare, Go your waies y'are all cleare. Sing his praises that doth keepe, our Flockes from harme, Pan the Father of our sheepe, And arme in arme Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground, Fills the musicke with her sound, Pan, o great God, Pan to thee Thus do we sing: Thou that keepest vs chaste and free, As the young spring, Euer be thy honour spoke, From that place the morne is broke, To that place Day doth vnyoke. Stay gentle Amoret thou faire browd maide, Thy Shepheard praies theee stay, that holds thee de ere. Equall with his soules good: Speake, I giue Thee freedome Shepheard, & thy tongue be still The same it euer was: as free from ill As he whose conuersation neuer knew The court or cittie: be thou euer true. When I fall off from my affection, Or mingle my cleane thoughts with foule desires, First let our great God cease to keepe my flockes, That being left alone without a guard, The woolfe, or winters rage, sommers great heat, And want of water, ros: or what to vs Of ill is yet vnknowne, fall speedily, And in their generall ruine let me goe. I pray thee gentle Shepheard wish not soe, I do belieue thee: tis as hard for me To thinke thee false, and harder then for thee To holde me foule. ô you are fairer farre, Then the chaste blushing morne, or that faire starre, That guides the wandring seaman through the deepe Straighter then the straightest pine vpon the steepe Head of an aged mountaine, and more white, Then the new milke we strip before day light From the full fraighted bag of our faire flockes: Your haire more beautious then those hanging lockes Of young Apollo. Shepheard be not lost, Ye are saild too farre alreadie from the coast Of our discourse. Did you not tell me once I should not loue alone, I should not loose Those many passions, vowes and holy oathes, I haue sent to heauen: did you not giue your hand, Euen that faire hand in hostage? do not then Giue backe againe those sweetes to other men. You your selfe vowd were mine,