Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.77 · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Patience herself would startle at this letter, And play the swaggerer, bear this, bear all: She says I am not fair, that I lack manners, She calls me proud, and that she could not love me Were man as rare as Phoenix: gods my will, Her love is not the Hare that I do hunt, Why writes she so to me? well Shepherd, well, This is a Letter of your own device. No, I protest, I know not the contents, Phebe did write it. Come, come, you are a fool, And turned into the extremity of love. I saw her hand, she has a leathern hand, A freestone coloured hand: I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands: She has a huswives hand, but that's no matter: I say she never did invent this letter, This is a man's invention, and his hand. Sure it is hers. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel stile, A stile for challengers: why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain Can not drop forth such giant rude invention, Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect Then in their countenance: will you hear the letter? So please you, for I never heard it yet: Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turned? That a maiden's heart hath burned. Can a woman rail thus? Call you this railing? Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part, War'st thou with a woman's heart? Did you ever hear such railing? Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast. If the scorn of your bright cine Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me, what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect? Whiles you chid me, I did love, How then might your prayers move? He that brings this love to thee, Little knows this Love in me: And by him seal up thy mind, Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my love deny, And then I'll study how to die. Call you this chiding? Alas poor Shepherd. Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity: wilt thou love such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee? not to be endured. Well, go your way to her; (for I see Love hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her: if you be a true lover hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, (if you know) Where in the Purlieuses of this Forest, stands A sheep-coat, fenced about with Olive-trees.
nodes 1390–1447 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 44 in this edition
Length
500 words · 662 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.774 (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)
Patience her ſelfe would ſtartle at this letter, And play the ſwaggerer, beare this, beare all: Shee ſaies I am not faire, that I lacke manners, She calls me proud, and that ſhe could not loue me Were man as rare as Phenix: 'od's my will, Her loue is not the Hare that I doe hunt, Why writes ſhe ſo to me? well Shepheard, well, This is a Letter of your owne deuice. No, I proteſt, I know not the contents, Phebe did write it. Come, come, you are a foole, And turn'd into the extremity of loue. I ſaw her hand, ſhe has a leatherne hand, A freeſtone coloured hand: I verily did thinke That her old gloues were on, but twas her hands: She has a huſwiues hand, but that's no matter: I ſay ſhe neuer did inuent this letter, This is a mans inuention, and his hand. Sure it is hers. Why, tis a boyſterous and a cruell ſtile, A ſtile for challengers: why, ſhe defies me, Like Turke to Chriſtian: vvomens gentle braine Could not drop forth ſuch giant rude inuention, Such Ethiop vvords, blacker in their effect Then in their countenance: vvill you heare the letter? So pleaſe you, for I neuer heard it yet: Yet heard too much of Phebes crueltie. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant vvrites. Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd? That a maidens heart hath burn'd. Can a vvoman raile thus? Call you this railing? Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part, War'ſt thou with a womans heart? Did you euer heare ſuch railing? Whiles the eye of man did wooe me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beaſt. If the ſcorne of your bright cine Haue power to raiſe ſuch loue in mine, Alacke, in me, what ſtrange effect Would they worke in milde aſpect? Whiles you chid me, I did loue, How then might your praiers moue? He that brings this loue to thee, Little knowes this Loue in me▪ And by him ſeale vp thy minde, Whether that thy youth and kinde Will the faithfull offer take Of me, and all that I can make, Or elſe by him my loue denie, And then Ile ſtudie how to die. Call you this chiding? Alas poore Shepheard. Doe you pitty him? No, he deſerues no pitty: wilt thou loue ſuch a woman? what to make thee an inſtrument, and play falſe ſtraines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I ſee Loue hath made thee a tame ſnake) and ſay this to her; That if ſhe loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if ſhe will not, I will neuer haue her, vnleſſe thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. Good morrow, faire ones: pray you, (if you know) Where in the Purlews of this Forreſt, ſtands A ſheep-coat, fenc'd about with Oliue-trees.