A pastoral dialogue between Alexis and Strephon written by the right honourable the late Earl of Rochester, at the bath, 1674.
         Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.
      
       
         
           1682
        
      
       Approx. 4 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image.
       
         Text Creation Partnership,
         Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :
         2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).
         A91911
         Wing R1752
         ESTC R182834
         42475154
         ocm 42475154
         151310
         
           
            This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of
             Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal
            . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
          
        
      
       
         Early English books online.
      
       
         (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A91911)
         Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 151310)
         Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2254:23)
      
       
         
           
             A pastoral dialogue between Alexis and Strephon written by the right honourable the late Earl of Rochester, at the bath, 1674.
             Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.
          
           1 sheet ([1] p.).
           
             Printed for [Benj. B]illing[sley,
             London :
             1682]
          
           
             In verse.
             Imperfect: bottom of sheet worn, with partial loss of imprint; bracketed material supplied from Wing (2nd ed.).
             Reproduction of original in: Bodleian Library.
          
        
      
    
     
       
         Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.
         Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors.
      
       
         EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.
         EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).
         The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.
         Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.
         Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.
         Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.
         The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.
         Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).
         
          Keying and markup guidelines are available at the
           Text Creation Partnership web site
          .
        
      
       
         
         
      
    
     
       
         eng
      
       
         
           Broadsides -- London (England) -- 17th century.
        
      
    
     
        2007-07 TCP
        Assigned for keying and markup
      
        2007-08 Apex CoVantage
        Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images
      
        2007-09 Emma (Leeson) Huber
        Sampled and proofread
      
        2007-09 Emma (Leeson) Huber
        Text and markup reviewed and edited
      
        2008-02 pfs
        Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
      
    
  
   
     
       
         
         
           A
           Pastoral
           Dialogue
           BETWEEN
           ALEXIS
           and
           STREPHON
           ,
           Written
           by
           the
           Right
           Honourable
           ,
           
             The
             Late
             Earl
             of
             Rochester
          
           .
           At
           the
           BATH
           ,
           1674.
           
        
         
           
             Alex.
             
          
           
             
               I.
               
            
             
               THere
               sighs
               not
               on
               the
               Plain
            
             
               So
               lost
               a
               Swain
               as
               I
               ;
            
             
               Scorcht't
               up
               with
               Love
               ,
               frozen
               with
               Disdain
               .
            
             
               Of
               killing
               Sweetness
               I
               complain
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Streph.
             
          
           
             If
             't
             is
             Corinna
             ,
             die
             .
          
           
             
               II.
               
            
             
               Since
               first
               my
               dazled
               Eyes
               were
               thrown
            
             
               On
               that
               bewitching
               Face
               ,
            
             
               Like
               ruin'd
               Birds
               ,
               rob'd
               of
               their
               Young
               ,
            
             
               Lamenting
               ,
               frighted
               ,
               and
               alone
               ,
            
             
               I
               fly
               from
               place
               to
               place
               .
            
          
           
             
               III.
               
            
             
               Fram'd
               by
               some
               Cruel
               Powers
               above
               ,
            
             
               So
               nice
               she
               is
               ,
               and
               fair
               ;
            
             
               None
               from
               undoing
               can
               remove
               ,
            
             
               Since
               all
               ,
               who
               are
               not
               Blind
               ,
               must
               Love
               ;
            
             
               Who
               are
               not
               vain
               ,
               Despair
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Alex.
             
          
           
             
               IV.
               
            
             
               The
               Gods
               no
               sooner
               give
               a
               Grace
               ,
            
             
               But
               fond
               of
               their
               own
               Art
               ,
            
             
               Severely
               jealous
               ,
               ever
               place
            
             
               To
               guard
               the
               Glories
               of
               a
               Face
               ,
            
             
               A
               Dragon
               in
               the
               Heart
               .
            
          
           
             
               V.
               
            
             
               Proud
               and
               ill-natur'd
               Powers
               they
               are
               ,
            
             
               Who
               peevish
               to
               Mankind
               ,
            
             
               For
               their
               own
               Honour's
               sake
               ,
               with
               Care
               ,
            
             
               Make
               a
               sweet
               Form
               divinely
               Fair
               ,
            
             
               And
               adds
               a
               Cruel
               Mind
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Streph.
             
          
           
             
               VI.
               
            
             
               Since
               she
               's
               insensible
               of
               Love
               ,
            
             
               By
               Honour
               taught
               to
               hate
               ,
            
             
               If
               we
               ,
               forc'd
               by
               Decrees
               above
               ,
            
             
               Must
               sensible
               to
               Beauty
               prove
               ,
            
             
               How
               Tyrannous
               is
               Fate
               ?
            
          
        
         
           
             Alex.
             
          
           
             
               VII
               .
            
             
               I
               to
               the
               Nymph
               have
               never
               nam'd
            
             
               The
               Cause
               of
               all
               my
               pain
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Streph.
             
          
           
             Such
             Bashfulness
             may
             well
             be
             blam'd
             ;
          
           
             For
             since
             to
             serve
             we
             're
             not
             asham'd
             ,
          
           
             Why
             should
             she
             blush
             to
             Reign
             ?
          
        
         
           
             Alex.
             
          
           
             
               VIII
               .
            
             
               But
               if
               her
               haughty
               Heart
               despise
            
             
               My
               humble
               proffer'd
               One
               ,
            
             
               The
               just
               Compassion
               she
               denies
               ,
            
             
               I
               may
               obtain
               from
               other's
               Eyes
               ;
            
             
               Hers
               are
               not
               Fair
               alone
               .
            
          
           
             
               IX
               .
            
             
               Devouring
               Flames
               require
               new
               Food
               ;
            
             
               My
               Heart
               's
               consum'd
               almost
               :
            
             
               New
               Fires
               must
               kindle
               in
               her
               Blood
               ,
            
             
               Or
               Mine
               go
               out
               ,
               and
               that
               's
               as
               good
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Streph.
             
          
           
             Would'st
             live
             ,
             when
             Love
             is
             lost
             ?
          
           
             
               X.
               
            
             
               Be
               dead
               before
               thy
               Passion
               dies
               ;
            
             
               For
               if
               thou
               should'st
               survive
               ,
            
             
               What
               Anguish
               would
               the
               Heart
               surprize
               ,
            
             
               To
               see
               her
               Flames
               begin
               to
               rise
               ,
            
             
               And
               Thine
               no
               more
               Alive
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Alex.
             
          
           
             
               XI
               .
            
             
               Rather
               what
               Pleasure
               shou'd
               I
               meet
            
             
               In
               my
               Tryumphant
               scorn
               ,
            
             
               To
               see
               my
               Tyrant
               at
               my
               Feet
               ;
            
             
               Whil'st
               taught
               by
               her
               ,
               unmov'd
               I
               sit
            
             
               A
               Tyrant
               in
               my
               Turn
               .
            
          
        
         
           
             Streph.
             
          
           
             
               XII
               .
            
             
               Ungentle
               Shepherd
               ,
               cease
               for
               shame
               ;
            
             
               Which
               way
               can
               you
               pretend
            
             
               To
               merit
               so
               Divine
               a
               Flame
               ,
            
             
               Who
               to
               dull
               Life
               makes
               a
               mean
               Claim
               ,
            
             
               When
               Love
               is
               at
               an
               End
               ?
            
          
           
             
               XIII
               .
            
             
               As
               Trees
               are
               by
               their
               Bark
               embrac'd
               ,
            
             
               Love
               to
               my
               Soul
               doth
               cling
               ;
            
             
               When
               torn
               by
               th'
               Herd's
               greedy
               Taste
               ,
            
             
               The
               injur'd
               Plants
               feel
               they
               're
               defac't
               ,
            
             
               They
               wither
               in
               the
               Spring
               .
            
          
           
             
               XIV
               .
            
             
               My
               rifled
               Love
               would
               soon
               retire
               ,
            
             
               Dissolving
               into
               Aire
               ,
            
             
               Shou'd
               I
               that
               Nymph
               cease
               to
               admire
               ,
            
             
               Blest
               in
               whose
               Arms
               I
               will
               expire
               ,
            
             
               Or
               at
               her
               Feet
               despair
               .
            
          
        
      
    
     
       
         
           
             LONDON
             ▪
          
           〈…〉