Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Thou counselst well, Grief weary of itself, all sense depriving. Felt neither sense, nor grief, by overgrieving: But see my Atyches: what different passions Strive in his doubtful face, pity would weep, And danger fain would rock high thoughts asleep, Whiles resolution chides the daring fear, And courage makes poor fear afraid to fear. Thou God that rul'st the sun's bright flaming cart If thou my grandsire art, as sure thou art For in my breast I feel thy powers divine, Firing my soul, which tells me I am thine: Direct my hand and guide this pointed dart, That it may pierce, and rive the monster's heart. Atyches. Ah Perindus this luckless hour Bids thee unwelcome, fly and never more, Never approach to view this deadly shore. Why what's the news? Thy sister the fair Olinda must die. So must we all. But none of all as she. Canst tell the cause and manner? yes; and till the sun Twixt noon and night his middle race shall run, The rites will not be finished; 'tis briefly thus. Thou know'st by Neptune's temple close their grows A sacred garden, where every flowers blow: Here blushing roses, there the Lilies white, Hyacinth, and there Narcissus bright: And underneath, the creeping violets show: That sweetness oft delights to dwell below: Vaulted above with thousand fragrant trees, And under paved with shamefast Strawberries, Which creeping low do sweetly blushing tell, That fairest pleasantst fruits, do humblest dwell. Briefly a little Heaven on Earth it seems: where every sweet and pleasure fully streams. Fisher thou now describest some paradise, Can any ill from so much good arise? Henbane and roses in our garden grow, Ah that from fruits so sweet, such gall should flow! Here fair Olinda, with her Nymphs arrives, And time away, time to fast posting drives, While Nago that deformed enchanter, ranging Along these trees, his shape and habit changing Seemed then Glaucilla, such his statelike eyes, Such hair, such lips, such cheeks, such rosy dyes, So like Glaucillas self that had she spied him, More would she doubt herself, the more she eyed him Can art forge nature with so true a lie? The falsest coin is fairest to the eye, Singling thy sister forth, they chance to see, The sacred graft of that Hesperian tree, Whose golden apples much the eye delighting, Would tempt the hands: the longing taste inviting: And now the subtle witch spies fit occasion, Aud with fitte speech and oaths, and soft perswation, So words he mind; that she (ha little guessing, What monster lay under that feigned dressing, pulls of th' unhappy fruit straight down she falls, And thrice a thundering voice Dicaeus calls; The priest knew what the fearful voice portended, And fair Olinda half dead apprehended: And to the temple bears her, there reserving Till the third day with death pays her deserving So Neptune, bids, that who shall touch the tree. With hands profane, shall by Malorcha die; Malorcha bread in seas, yet seas do dread him, As much more monstrous than the seas that bred him
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)
Thou counsailst well, Griefe weary of it selfe, all sence depriuing. Felt neyther sence, nor griefe, by ouergrieuing: But see my Atyches: what different passions Striue in his doubtfull face, pitty would weepe, And danger faine would rocke high thoughts a sleepe, Whiles resolution chides the daring feare, And courage makes poore feare afrade to feare. Thou God that rulst the sunnes bright flaming cart If thou my grand-sire art, as sure thou art For in my breast I feele thy powers diuine, Firing my soule, which tels mee I am thine: Direct my hand and guide this poynted dart, That it may peirce, and riue the monsters heart. Atyches. Ah Perindus this lucklesse howre Bids thee vnwelcome, fly and neuer more, Neuer approach to view this deadly shore. Why whats the newes? Thy sister the fayre Olinda must die. So must we all. But none of all as she. Canst tell the cause and manner? yes; and till the sunne Twixt noone and night his middle race shall runne, The rites will not be finisht; 'tis briefly thus. Thou knowst by Neptunes temple close their growes A sacred garden, where euery flowers blowe Here blushing roses, there the Lillies white, Hee Hyainth, and there Narcissus bright And vnderneath, the creeping violets show: That sweetnes ot delights to dwell below: Vaulted aboue with thousand fragrant trees, And vnder pa'ud with shamefast Strawberies, Which creeping lowe doe sweetely blushing tell, That fairest pleasantst fruits, doe humblest dwell. Breifly a little Heauen on Earth it seemes: where euery sweete and pleasure fully streames. Fisher thou now describ'st some paradice, Can any ill from so much good arise? Henbane and roses in our garden growe, Ah that from fruits so sweete, such gall should flowe! Here faire Olinda, with her Mymphs arriues, And time away, time to fast posting driues, While Nago that deformed enchanter, ranging Along these trees, his shape and habit changing Seem'd then Glaucilla, such his statelike eyes, Such haire, such lipps, such cheekes, such rosie dies, So like Glaucillas selfe that had shee spide him, More would shee doubt her selfe, the more shee eyd him Can art forge nature with so true a lie? The falsest coine is fairest to the eie, Singling thy sister forth, they chance to see, The sacred graft of that Herperian tree, Whose golden apples much the eye delighting, Would tempt the hands: the longing tast inuiting: And now the subtill witch spies fit occasion, Aud with fitte speech and oaths, and soft perswation, So words hee mind; that shee (ha little guessing, What monster lay vnder that faind dressing, Puls of th' vnhappie fruit straight downe shee falls, And thrice a thundring voice Dieaeus calls; The preist knew what the fearefull voice portended, And faire Olinda halfe dead apprehended: And to the temple beares her, there reseruing Till the third day with death payes her deseruing So Neptune, bids, that who shall touch the tree. With hands profane, shall by Malorcha die; Malorcha bread in seas, yet seas do dread him, As much more monstrous then the seas that bred him