Tasso, Torquato / Reynolds, Henry · published 1628 · first performed or written 1628 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Why none at all. But with a look full of disdain, hung down The head, and hid her fair lap all she could; He stood unbrayding her entangled ' tresses, And sighing said (the while,) O how unworthy Is this rude trunk of so fair knots as these? See what advantage have Love's votaries, That (like this tree) have with so precious bands Their hearts entwined: Cruel plant, couldst thousese This hair thus injured, that thus honours thee? Then with his hands her hands he fair vnloozed, In such a sort, as that he seemed afraid To touch them, yet desired to touch them still: Then stooped he down t'untye her feet; when she Finding her late bound hands at liberty, Said with a scornful, and disdaining look; Shepherd, I am Diana's; touch me not; Leave me, I shall unbind my feet myself. Ah that the soft best of a maid should harbour Such pride; O Courtesy full ill repaid. strait he with reverence withdrew himself, Not lifting once his eyes to look on her; Barring himself of his delight; that she Might lay no blame on his immodesty. I that was hid near hand, and saw all this, And heard it all, was even exclaiming on her, But that I curbed myself; see the strange creature; After she was with much ado got lose, Away she hurried straight, swift as a Do, Without so much as ' Thank ye, or farewell; And yet knew well, she had no cause to fear; So modest and respectful was Aminta. Why fled she then? Perhaps she thought it showed Better; and argued more her modesty. Her foul ingratitude: but what did then, What said the poor Aminta? I cannot tell. For (angry) after her I ran amain To have o'erta'en, and stayed her; but in vain; For soon I lost her; and again returning Unto the Fountain where I left Aminta, I found him not; and my heart much misgives me Of some self ill befallen him; for I know He was resolved (before this happened him) To end his life and miseries together. It is the common use and art of Lovers To threaten their own deaths; but rarely shall We see th'effect in any of them all. Pray heaven he be not of those rare ones then. Tush fear him not. Well I'll down to the Cave Of the sage Elpine; thither he perhaps Will be retyr'de, if he be yet alive; For there he went full oft to'allay and ease The rage of his bitter calamities, With the sweet sound of Elpines' Reeds; that win And draw with their alluring voice, to hear them, The hard stones from the craggy mountain tops; Make floods and waterfounts run with pure milk; And oft the rough barked trees against their kinds Distil sweet honey from their bitter rinds. Pitiless (Daphne) was that Pity of thine, When thou held'st back the dart; because my death Will but more painful be, the more delay'de: And now, why dost thou stay me trifling thus, And hold me ' in vain with these thy long discourses? If thou be'st fearful of my death, thou fearest My happiness.
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)
VVhy none at all. But with a looke full of diſdaine, hung downe The head, and hidd her faire lapp all ſhee could; He ſtood vnbrayding her intangled' treſſes, And ſighing ſaid (the whiles,) O how vnworthy Is this rude trunke of ſo faire knots as theſe? See what aduantage haue Loues votaries, That (like this tree) haue with ſo pretious bands Their hearts entwin'd: Cruell plant, couldſt thouſe This haire thus iniur'd, that thus honours thee? Then with his hands her hands he faire vnlooz'd, In ſuch a ſort, as that he ſeem'd affraide To touch them, yet deſir'd to touch them ſtill: Then ſtoop'd he downe t'untye her feet; when ſhee Finding her late bound hands at libertie, Said with a ſcornefull, and diſdayning looke; Shepherd, I am Diana's; touch me not; Leaue me, I ſhall vnbinde my feete my ſelfe. Ah that the ſoft beſt of a mayde ſhould harbor Such pride; O Curteſie full ill repayde. Straite he with reuerence withdrew himſelfe, Not lifting once his eyes to looke on her; Barring himſelfe of his delight; that ſhee Might lay no blame on his immodeſtie. I that was hid neere hand, and ſaw all this, And heard it all, was eu'ne exclaiming on her, But that I curb'd my ſelfe; ſee the ſtrange creature; After ſhe was with much adoe got looſe, Away ſhee hurryed ſtrait, ſwift as a Doe, Without ſo much as 'Thanke yee, or farewell; And yet knew well, ſhee had no cauſe to feare; So modeſt and reſpectfull was Aminta. Why fled ſhe then? Perhaps ſhe thought it ſhew'd Better; and argued more her modeſtie. Her foule ingratitude: but what did then, VVhat ſaid the poore Aminta? I cannot tell. For (angry) after her I ranne amaine To haue oretane, and ſtaid her; but in vaine; For ſoone I loſt her; and againe returning Vnto the Fountaine where I left Aminta, I found him not; and my heart much miſgiues me Of ſome ſelfe ill befalne him; for I knowe He was reſolu'd (before this hapned him) To ende his life and miſeries together. It is the common vſe and art of Louers To threaten their owne deaths; but rarely ſhall Wee ſee th'effect in any of them all. Pray heau'ne he be not of thoſe rare ones then. Tuſh feare him not. Well I'le downe to the Caue Of the ſage Elpine; thither he perhaps Will be retyr'de, if he be yet aliue; For there he went full oft to'allay and eaſe The rage of his bitter calamities, With the ſweet ſound of Elpines Reeds; that winn And draw with their alluring voice, to heare them, The hard ſtones from the craggy mountaine topps; Make flouds and waterfounts runne with pure milke; And oft the rough bark'd trees againſt their kindes Diſtill ſweet honny from their bitter rindes. PIttileſſe (Daphne) was that Pitty of thine, When thou held'st backe the dart; becauſe my death Will but more painefull be, the more delay'de: And now, why doeſt thou ſtay me trifling thus, And hold me' in vaine with theſe thy long diſcourſes? If thou beeſt fearefull of my death, thou fear'ſt My happineſſe.