Fletcher, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1608 [1608-1609] (Annals) pastoral; tragicomedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Try me and prove. These happy pair of lovers meet straight way, Soon as they fold their flocks up with the day In the thick grove bordering upon yond hill, In whose hard side Nature hath carved a well: And but that matchless spring which Poets know, Was near the like to this: by it doth grow About the sides, all herbs which witches use, All simples good for medicine or abuse, All sweets that crown the happy nuptial day. With all their colours, there the month of May Is ever dwelling, all is young and green, There's not a grass on which was ever seen, The falling autumn or cold winter's hand So full of heat and virtue is the land: About this fountain: which doth slowly break Below yond mountains foot, into a creak That waters all the valley, giving fish Of many sorts, to fill the shepherds dish. This holy well, my grandam that is dead, Right wise in charms, hath often to me said, Hath power to change the form of any creature, Being thrice dipped over the head, into what feature, Or shape 'twould please the letter down to crave, Who must pronounce this charm to, which she gave Me on her death bed, told me what and how I should apply unto the patient's brow, That would be changed, casting them thrice asleep Before I trusted them into this deep. All this she showed me, and did charge me prove, This secret of her Art, if crossed in love, I'll this attempt, now Shepherd I have here All her prescriptions and I will not fear To be myself dipped: come, my temples bind With these sad herbs, and when I sleep you find As you do speak your charm, thrice down me let, And bid the water raise me Amoret, Which being done, leave me to my affair, And ere the day shall quite itself out wear, I will return unto my shepherds arm, Dip me again, and then repeat this charm, And pluck me up myself, whom freely take, And the hot'st fire of thine affection slake. And if I fit thee not, then fit not me, I long the truth of this well's power to see. Here will I stay, for this the covert is Where I appointed Cloe, do not miss: Thou bright eyed virgin, come, o come my fair, Be not abused with fear, nor let cold care Of honour slay thee from thy shepherds arm, Who would as hard be won to offer harm To thy chaste thoughts, as whiteness from the day, Or yond great round to move another way. My language shall be honest, full of truth, My flame as smooth and spotless as my youth: I will not entertain that wandering thought, Whose easy currant may at length be brought To a loose vastness. Cloe!
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)
Try me and proue. These happy paire of louers meet straight way, Soone as they fould their flockes vp with the day In the thicke groue bordering vpon yon hill, In whose hard side Nature hath caru'd a well: And but that matchlesse spring which Poets know, Was nere the like to this: by it doth growe About the sides, all hearbs which witches vse, All simples good for medicine or abuse, All sweetes that crowne the happy nuptiall day. With all their colours, there the month of May Is euer dwelling, all is young and greene, There's not a grasse on which was euer seene, The falling Autume or cold winters hand So full of heate and virtue is the land: About this fountaine: which doth slowly breake Below yon Mountaines foote, into a creeke That waters all the valley, giuing fish Of many sorts, to fill the shepheards dish. This holy well, my Grandame that is dead, Right wise in charmes, hath often to me sed, Hath power to change the forme of any creature, Being thrice dipt ouer the head, into what feature, Or shape t'would please the letter downe to craue, Who must pronounce this charme to, which she gaue Me on her death bed, told me what and how I should apply vnto the patients brow, That would be chang'd, casting them thrice a sleepe Before I trusted them into this deepe. All this she shew'd me, and did charge me proue, This secret of her Art, if crost in loue, I'le this attempt, now Shepheard I haue here All her prescriptions and I wil not feare To be my selfe dipt: come, my temples binde With these sad hearbs, and when I sleepe you finde As you do speake your charme, thrice downe me let, And bid the water raise me Amoret, Which being done, leaue me to my affaire, And ere the day shall quite it selfe out weare, I will returne vnto my Shepheards arme, Dip me againe, and then repeat this charme, And plucke me vp my selfe, whome freely take, And the hotst fire of thine affection slake. And if I fit thee not, then fit not me, I long the truth of this wels power to see. Heere will I stay, for this the couert is Where I appointed Cloe, do not misse: Thou bright ey'd virgin, come, ô come my faire, Be not abus'd with feare, nor let cold care Of honor slay thee from thy Shepheards arme, Who would as hard be wonne to offer harme To thy chaste thoughts, as whitenesse from the day, Or yon great round to moue another way. My language shall be honest, full of truth, My flame as smooth and spotlesse as my youth: I will not entertaine that wandring thought, Whose easie currant may at length be brought To a loose vastenes. Cloe!