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 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
No mercy I do crave Thou canst not give a worse blow than I have; Tell him that gave me this, who loved him too He struck my soul and not my body through: Tell him when I am dead my soul shall be. At peace if he but think he injured me. In this Fount be thy Grave, thou wert not meant, Sure for a woman, thou art so Innocent She cannot scape for underneath the ground, In a long hollow the clear spring is bound, Till on you side where the morn's sun doth look, The struggling water breaks out in a brook, what powerful Charms my streams do bring Back again unto their spring? With such force that I their god, Three times striking with my rod, Could not keep them in their Ranks My fishes shoot into the banks. there's not one, that stays and feeds, All have hid them in the weeds Here's a Mortal almost dead, fallen into my River head, Hollowed so with many a spell, That till now none ever fell, 'tis a Feamale young and clear, Cast in by some Ravisher, See upon her breast a wound, On which there is no plaster bound, Yet she's warm, her pulses beat, 'tis a sign of life and heat, If thou be'st a virgin pure, I can give a present cure, Take a droop into thy wound From my watery lock more round, Then Orient Pearl, and far more pure, Then unchaste flesh may endure, See she pants and from her flesh, The warm blood gusheth out afresh, She is an unpolluted maid: I must have this bleeding stayed, From my banks, I pluck this flower. With holy hand whose virtuous power, Is at once to heal and draw The blood returns I never saw, A fairer Mortal, now doth break, Her deadly slumber, virgin, speak, Who hath restored my sense, given me new breath, And brought me back out of the Arms of death, I have healed thy wounds: ay me, Fear not him that succoured thee: I am this Fountains God below, My waters to a River grow, And twixt two banks with Osiers set, That only prosper in the wet, Through the Meadows do they glide, Wheeling still on every side, Sometimes winding round about. To find the Evenest channel out, And if thou wilt go with me, Leaving Mortal company. In the Cool streams shall thou lie: Free from harm as well as I, I will give thee for thy food, No fish that useth in the mud, But Trout and Pike that love to swim, Where the Gravel from the brim, Though the pure streams may be seen, Orient Pearl fit for a Queen, Will I give thy love to win And a shell to keep them in, Not a fish in all my brook, That shall disobey thy look, But when thou wilt come sliding by, And from thy white hand take a fly, And to make thee understand: How I can my waves command, They shall Bubble whilst I sing, Sweeter than the silver string.
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)
No mercy I doe craue Thou canst not giue a worsse blowe then I haue; Tell him that gaue mee this, who lou'd him to He strucke my soule and not my bodye through: Tell him when I am dead my soule shall bee. At peace if hee but thincke hee iniurd mee In this Fount bee thy Graue, thou wert not ment, Sure for a woman, thou art so Innocent Shee cannot scape for vnderneath the ground, In a longe hllowe the cleere spring is bound, Till on you syde where the Morns sunn doth looke The strugling water breakes out in a brooke, what powerfull Charmes my streames doe bring Backe againe vnto their spring? With such force that I their god, Three times stricking with my rod, Could not keepe them in their Rancks My fishes shute into the bankes. Ther's not one, that stayes and feeds, All haue hidd thm in the weedes Heres a Mortall almost dead, Falne into my Riuer head, Hollowed so with many a spell, That till now none euer fell, Ti a Feamale young and cleare, Cast in by some Rauisher, See vppon her brest a wound, On which there is no playster bound, Yet shee's wame, her pulses beat, Tis a signe of life and heate, If thou bee'st a virgin pure, I can giue a present cure, Take a droope into thy wound From my watry locke more round, Then Orient Pearle, and farr more pure, Then vnchast flsh may endure, See shee pants and rom her flesh, The warme blood gusheth out a fresh, She is an vnpoluted mayde: I must haue this bleeding stayde, From my banckes, I plucke this flower. With holy hand whose vertuous power, Is at once to heale and draw The blood Returnes I neuer saw, A ayrer Mortall, now doth breake, Her deadly slumber, virgin, speake, Who hath restor'd my sence, giuen mee new breath, And brought mee backe out of the Armes o death, I haue heald thy wounds: Aye mee, Feare not him that succord thee: I am this Fountayne God belowe, My waters to a Riuer growe, And twixt two banckes with Osiers sett, That only poper in the wet, Through the Meddowes do they glide, Wheeling still n euery syde, Sometimes winding round about. To ind the Euenest channell ot, And if thou wilt go with mee, Leauing Mortall company. In the Coole streames hall thou lye: Free from harme as well as I, I will giue thee for thy food, No fish that vseh in the mudd, But Trout and Pike that loue to swim, Where the Grauell from the bri, Though the pure streames may beseene, Orient Pearle fit for a Queene, Will I giue thy loue to winn And a shell to keepe them in, Not a fish in all my brooke, That shall disobeye thy loke, But when thou wilt come slyding bye, And from thy white hnd take alye, And to make thee vnderstand: How I can my waues commaund, They shall Bubble whilst I sing, Sweeter then the siluer string.