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 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
O lawless love! this soul offence, Which when it prospered, pleased my ravished sense: With what a dry aspect, what horrid sight, Now done, it fills my soul with guilty fright, Who ere thou art, if in true spotless breast, Thy undefiled thoughts do quiet rest: Wake them not, and let no bloodhound with thee dwell, These murdering thoughts are like the mouth of hell, Into whose yawning 'tis more easy never To fall, then fall'n, to cease from falling ever. Nomicus, thou now mayst let thy prisoners free, Thalander to Olinda now revived, Perindus to Glaucilla are to be married, And all are brought along with singing, Hymen the shores, Hymen the echoes ringing. Nomicus, seest thou this Nymph? ah couldst thou think That treason, envy, murder, spite and hell, All hell itself in such a heaven could dwell? This is the knot of all these sorrows; Cosma, If not for shame, why yet for spite or fashion, For woman's fashion let some tears be spilled: A sea of weeping will not wash thy guilt. Great nature, that hast made a stone descry Twixt meaner natures, checking baser metals, Which proudly counterfeit the purer gold, Why hast thou left the soul of man no touchstone, To judge dissemblance, and descry proud vice, Which with false colours seems more virtuous Than virtues self? like to some cunning workman, Who frames a shape in such a form of stature, That oft he excels by imitating nature. He that should look upon this Nymphs sweet eye Would vow't a temple sworn to purity. If murder rest in such a lovely grace, Here do I vow never to trust a face. Shall I call back your Prisoners? Prithee do: Our nets, boats, oars, and hooks shall now go play, For heaven hath sworn to make this holy day. Hymen, Hymen, come safe on, Hymen. That I love for ever constant stands, Where hearts are tied before the hands, Where fair virtue marries beauty, And affection pleads for duty: Hymen, Hymen, come safe on Hymen. You honoured pair of fishers, see where your love, So full of constant trial now hath brought you, See, blessed souls, through so many tears, Turnings, despairs, impossibilities, Your love is now most safe arrived: Thalander, Is this the Nymph, whom heaven and angry hell, Her cold desires, and colder death itself Would have devoured from thy deserving love? Thalander, these hands are thine, that heavenly face, Those starry eyes, those roses and that grace, Those coral lips, and that unknown breast, And all the hidden riches of the rest: They all are thine, thine is the fair Olinda. Yet thou, as thou wast wont, all sad and heavy Blame me not, friend: for yet I seem forsaken And doubt I sleep, and fear still to be waken.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O lawlesse loue! this soule offence, Which when it prosperd, pleasd my rauish't sence: With what a drie aspect, what horrid sight, Now done, t fils my oule with guilty fright, Who ere thou art, if in ty spotlesse brest, Thy vndefiled thoughts doe quiet rest: Wake them not, and let no blood-hound with thee dwell, These murthering thoughts are like the mouth of hell, Into whose yawning 'tis more easie neuer To fall, then falne, to cease from falling euer. Nomicus, thou now mayst let thy prisoners free, Thalander to Olinda now reuiu'd, Perindus to Glaucilla are to be married, And all are brought along with singing, Hymen the shores, Hymen the ecchoes ringing. Nomicus, seest thou this Nymph? ah couldst thou thinke That treason, enuy, murder, spight and hell, All hell it selfe in such a heauen could dwell? This is the knot of all these sorrowes; Cosma, If not for shame, why yet for spight or fashion, For womans fashion let some teares bee spilt: A sea of weeping will not wash thy guilt. Great nature, that hast made a stone descry Twixt meanr natures, checking baser metalls, Which proudly counterfeit the purer gold, Why hast thou left the soule of man no touch-stone, To iudge dissemblance, and descry proud vice, Which with false colours seemes more vertuous Then vertues selfe? like to some cunning workeman, Who frames a shape in such a forme of stature, That oft he excells by imitating nature. He that should looke vpon this Nymphs sweete ey Would vow't a temple sworne to purity. If murder rest in such a louely grace, Here do I vow neuer to trust a face. Shall I call backe your Prisoners? Prethee doe Our nets, boates, oares, and hookes shall now goe play, For heauen hath sworne to make this holy day. Hymen, Hymen, come safe on, Hymen. That I loue for euer constant stands, Where hearts are tied before the hands, Where faire vertue marries beauty, And affection pleads for duty: Hymen, Hymen, come safe on Hymen. You honourd paire of fishers, see where your loue, So full of constant triall now hath brought you, Se, blessed soules, through so many teares, Turnings, despaires, impossibilities, Your loue is now most safe arriu'd: Thalander, Is this the Nymph, whom heauen and angry hell, Her cold desires, and colder death it selfe Would haue deuoured from thy deseruing loue? Thalander, these hands are thine, that heauenly face, Those starrie eyes, those roses and that grace, Those corrall lips, and that vnknowne brest, And all the hidden riches of the rest: They all are thine, thine is the faire Olinda. Yet thou, as thou wast wont, all sad and heauy Blame me not, friend: for yet I seeme forsaken And doubt I sleepe, and feare still to be waken.