Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Shortly to come toth' height of all their wrong, So could this Mago fill his smoothest tongue, That she Thalander banished from her sight, Never to see her more his sole delight: And he to none his hidden grief in parted, But full of loving duty straight departed Leaving our groves in woods he grows a ranger To all but beasts and senseless trees a stranger. Thus in a desert like his love forsaken nothing but cold death his flames could slacken Atyches spied him, but so grief had pined him. That when he saw him plain, he could not find him. And so had sorrow all his graces reft That in him, of him nothing now was left Only his love; with which his latest breath H power'd into his eares, so slept i death. The rest when better leisure time affords This luckless day asks rather tears then words. Who ne'er saw death, may death commend, Call it joys Prologue troubles end: The pleasing sleep that quiet rocks him, Where neither care; nor fancy mocks him. But who in nearer space doth eye him Next to hell, as he'll defy him: No state, no age, no sex can move him, No beggars prey, no Kings reprove him: In midst of mirth, and loves alarms, He pulls the Bride from Bride grooms arms The beauteous Virgin he contemns, The guilty with the just condemns. All wear his cloth and none denies. Dressed in fresh coloured liveries. Kings lewe as beggars lie in graves, Nobles as base, the free as slaves, Blessed who on virtue's life relying, Dies to vice, thus lives by dying. But fond that making life thy treasure, surfeit'st in joy, art drunk in pleasure. Sweets do make the sour more tart. And pleasure sharps deaths keenest dart. Death's thought is death to those that live, In living joys, and never grieve. Hapless that happy art and know'st no tears whoever lives in pleasure, lives in fears I Have been studying, what bold hardy fool Invented fisher's art, that tired with safety, Would needs go play with waves, winds, death and hell, The sum of fisher's life is quickly found, To sweat, freeze, watch, fast toil be starved or drowned Well had my Mistress found no better trade, I would ere this have left these dabbling deities, But she while other fisher's fish on the seas, Sends me a fishing on the Land for flesh: No, game arrives amiss unto her net, For she's not borne among the cliffs, and rocks But from Messena comes to sport herself And fish for fools along these craggy shores, I took her for a Nymph, but she's a woman A very woman loveth all she sees, This for his sprightly wit, and that for Music, Him cause he's fair, another for his blackness
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)
Shortly to come to'th' height of all their wrong, So could this Mago fill his smoothet tongue, That shee halander banisht from her sight, Neuer to see her more his sole delight: And he to none his hidden greife in parted, But full of louing duty straight departed Leauing our groues in woods he grows a ranger To all but beasts and sencelesse trees a stranger. Thus in a desert like his loue forsaken Whn nohing but cold death his flames could slacken Atyches spyed him but so griefe had pin'd him. That when he saw him plaine, he could not find him. And so had sorrow all his graces ret That in him, of him nohing now was left Onely his loue; with which his latest breah H power'd into his eares, so slept i death. The rest when better leisue time affods This uckess day askes rather teares hen words. Who neere saw death, may death commend, Call it oyes Prologue troubles end: The pleasing seepe that quiet rockes him, Where neither care; nor fancy mockes him. But who in neerer space doth eye him Next to hell, as hel defye him: No state no age, no sexe can moue him, No beggars prey, no Kings reprooue him In mid'st of mirth, and loues alarmes, He puls the Bride from Bride groomes arms The beautous Virgin he contemns, The guilty with the iust condemns. All weare his cloth and noe denyes. Dres't in fresh colour'd liueries. Kings lewe as beggars lie in graues, Nobles as base, the free as slaues, Bles't who on vertues life relying, Dies to vice, thus liues by dying. But fond that making life thy treasure, Surfetst in ioy, art drunke in pleasure. Sweetes do make the sower more tart. And pleasure sharp's deaths keenest dart. Deaths thought is death to those that liue, In liuing ioyes, and neuer grieue. Happelesse that happie art and knowst no teares Who euer liues in pleasure, liues in feares I Haue bene studying, what bold hardie foole Inuented fishers art, tht tir'd with safety, Would needs go play with waues, winds, death and hell, The summe of fishers life is quickly found, To sweate, freeze, watch, fast toyle be starud or drownd Well had my Mistris found no better trade, I would ere this haue left these dabling deities, But she while other fishers fish on the seas, Sends me a fishing on the Land for flesh: No, game arriue's amisse vnto her net, For shees not borne among the cliffs, and rockes But from Messena comes to sport herselfe And fish for fooles along these craggie shores, I tooke her for a Nymph, but shees a woman A very woman loueth all she sees, This for his sprightly wit, and that for Musicke, Him cause hee's faire, another for his blacknesse