Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
So thou art well, but still my better part, Perindus, sinks all loaden with his smart: So thou my finger cut'st, and woundst my heart. Since then thou wilt not give me leave to hide it, Briefly 'tis thus: when thou thy love hadst vowed me Most sure, but yet no certain time allowed me; My marriage day as all my good desiring, To Proteus Cell I went, the time enquiring, There heard these words, the cause of all my sadness, The cause of all my seeming hate and gladness. Thus went th' Oracle. The day, that thou with grief so long forbearest, Shall bring thee what thou wishest most and fearest. Thy sister's grave shall be her marriage bed, In one self day twice dying, and once dead. Thy friend, whom thou didst ever dearest choose, In losing thou shalt find, in finding loose. And briefly to conclude the worst at last, Thou, or thy Love shall from a rock be cast. Glaucilla, had thy love but with my life been prized, My life t'enjoy thy love I had despised. But since it may be thine, thy life destroying, Shall ne'er be given for my love's enjoying: Much rather, let me live in fires tormenting, Then with such purchase buy my hearts contenting. Then love's the cause of all thy seeming hate, What hast thou seen in me, that I should seem, My life more than thy love, or mine esteem? Perindus thy hate hath cost me often dying, So hast thou given me death, by death denying: For th' Oracle, with death I am contented, And will not fear, what cannot be prevented. Yet though such mischief Proteus did divine, Much better sped I at my father's shrine: Coming to Delphos, where the Pythian maid Told me my wishes should be fully paid And that within few days I should arrive Through many bitter storms, into the hive. Why doubtst thou then? adieu love till tomorrow, Next rising sun shall to thee ease thy sorrow. mayst thou prove true, or if heaven bade decree The good be thine, light all the bad on me. Farewell. Thou givest Glaucilla what thou wishest good rest. This victory my mind hath whole possessed, And from my eyes shuts out all sleep and rest: If I but slumber, straight my fancy dreams, This Atyches is much more than he seems: Coming to his couch, I found his empty bed As yet untouched, himself from sleep is fled. But soft, whom have we here? The Ox now feels no yoke, all labour sleeps, The soul unbent, this as her playtime keeps, And sports itself in fancies winding streams, Bathing his thoughts in thousand winged dreams. The fisher tired with labour, snorteth fast, And never thinks of pains to come or passed, Only love waking rest and sleep despises, Sets later than the sun, and sooner rises. With him the day as night, the night as day, All care, no rest, all work, no holy-day How different from love is lover's guise! He never opes, they never shut their eyes.
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)
So thou art well, but still my better part, Perindus, sinkes all loaden with his smart: So thou my finger cut'st, and woundst my heart. Since then thou wilt not giue me leaue to hide it, Briefely 'tis thus: when thou thy loue hadst vowd me Most sure, but yet no certaine time allowd me; My marriage day as all my good desiring, To Protes Cell I went, the time enquiring, There heard these words, the cause of all my sadnes, The case of all my seeming hate and gladnesse. Thus went th' Oracle. The day, that thou with griefe so long forbearest, Shall bring thee what thou wishest most and fearest. Thy sisters graue shall bee her marriage bed, In one selfe day twice dying, and once dead. Thy friend, whom thou didst euer dearest choose, In loosing thou shalt finde, in finding loose. And briefly to conclude the worst at last, Thou, or thy Loue shall from a rocke be cast. Glaucilla, had thy loue but with my life beene priz'd, My life t'enioy thy loue I had despis'd. But since it may be thine, thy life destroying, Shall nere bee giuen for my loues enioying: Much rather, let me liue in fires tormenting, Then with such purchase buy my hearts contenting. Then loue's the cause of all thy seeming hate, What hast thou seene in me, that I should seeme, My life more then thy loue, or mine esteeme? Perindus thy hat hath cost me often dying, So hast thu giuen mee death, by death denying: For th' Oracle, with death I am contented, And will not feare, what cannot be preuented. Yet though such mischiefe Proteus did diuine, Much better sped I at my fathers shrine: Comming to Delphos, where the Pythian maid Told me my wises should be fully paid And that within few dayes I should arriue Through many bitter stormes, into the hiue. Why doubtst thou then? adew loue till to morrow, Next rising sunne shall to thee ease thy sorrow. Maist thou proue true, or if heauen bad decree The good be thine, light all the bad on me. Farewell. Thou giuest Glaucilla what thou wishest good rest. This victory my minde hath whole possest, And from my eyes shuts out all sleepe and rest: If I but slumber, streight my fancie deames, This Atyches is much more then he seemes: Comming to his couch, I found his emptie bed As yet vntoucht, himselfe from sleepe is fled. But soft, whom haue wee here? The Oxe now feeles no yoke, all labour sleepes, The soule vnbent, this as her play-time keepes, And sports it selfe in fancies winding streames, Bathing his thoughts in thousand winged dreames. The fisher tyr'd with labour, snorteth fast, And neuer thinks of paines to come or past, Only loue waking rest and sleepe despises, Sets later then the sunne, and sooner rises. With him the day as night, the night as day, All car, no rest, all worke, no holy-day How different from loue is louers guise! He neuer opes, they neuer shut their eyes.