Fisher, Jasper · published 1633 · first performed or written 1625 [c.1611-1633] (Annals) history · at University unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 454 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Now Volusene: Our glorious state, like the noon-pointed Sun, When he bestrides the lion's flaming fleece, Doth North-west roll his burning brand, whose fire The Ocean's blue lake cannot stop, but flies With brighter blaze to thaw the frozen Isles. But how proceeds our preparation? Many strong Ships are built, five Legions armed Ready to launch. Blow gently Africus, Play on our poops: When Hyperion's Son Shall couch in West his foam-bedappled jades; we'll rise to run our course. Though Orpheus' Harp, Arion's Lute, the Chimes Whose silver sound did Theban towers raise: Though sweet Urania with her ten-string Lyre, Unto whose stroke the daily-rolling spheres Dance their just measures; Should with tune and tone Tickle my eare-bred air: Yet can their notes Those fabulous stones more enter, than my Soul. Lead, poppy, Slumber stupefy my heart: But Bedlam grief acts gambols in my brain. The Centaur's Wheel, Prometheus hawk, The Vulture Of Tityus, Sisyphus never mossy stone, The tale of Danaids tub, and Tantalus gaping, Are but flea-bitings to my Smart: I've slain A kinsman: more, A friend I dearly loved: Nay more, no cause provoking, but in rash And hellish choler. I had thought my Love had cannon-proof been 'gainst A world of injuries: when see, all is split By a small wind. Cursed be thou my Sword, The Instrument of Fury: Cursed hand, Which mad'st the thrust: But most accursed Part, Whose ruddy flesh triangular boiled in flame, Like an Aetnean, or Vesuvian Salamander. That Breast, I so could hug, that faithful breast, That snowy white, I with dark sanguine stained; And from the wounds red lips, his panting heart Did seem to speak, Is this a friendly deed? O no, Hirildas: Bears can harmless play, lions can dally, and sheath up their claws: I only, worst of brutes, kill friends in jest. Why dost Androgeus kindly-cruel keep Me from their Sentence? Say, Law bids me die: If Law should not, I'll make that Law myself. Shall Ensigns be displayed, and Nations rage About so vild a wretch? Shall foreign hooves Kick up our trembling dust, and must a Caesar Redeem my folly with a kingdom's fall? First may I stop black Cerberus triple jaws. Die, Die, thou hast outlived thyself. Thou only, Phoenix of females, still dost bind and bound My runagate spirit in these walls of mud: From thee, and For thee 'tis, I breathe. Yet how Borrow can I his Shape, or use mine own? Odious before, now worse than hellborn goblin With brand and chains, to scare this Dove all quaking Twixt wrath and fear. But Time may favour win: When Hope doth fail, then Knife or Rope begin. Wisdom confirm my Sense: what seemed their number?
seed 43: T53 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Now Volusene: Our glorious state, like the noone-pointed Sunne, When he bestrides the Lyons flaming fleece, Doth North-west rowle his burning brand, whose fire The Oceans blue lake cannot stop, but flies With brighter blaze to thaw the frozen Iles. But how proceedes our preparation? Many strong Ships are built, fiue Legions arm'd Readie to launch. Blow gently Africus, Play on our poopes: When Hyperions Sonne Shall couch in West his fome-bedappled iades; Wee'l rise to runne our course. Though Orpheus Harpe, Arions Lute, the Chimes Whose siluer sound did Thebane towers raise: Though sweet Vrania with her ten-string Lyre, Vnto whose stroke the daily-rowling sphaeres Dance their iust measures; Should with tune and tone Tickle my eare-bred ayre: Yet can their notes Those fabulous stones more enter, than my Soule. Lead, poppy, Slumber stupifie my heart: But Bedlame griefe actes gambolles in my braine. The Centaures Wheele, Prometheus Hawke, The Vulture Of Tityus, Sisyphus neuer mossie stone, The tale of Danaids tubbe, and Tantalus gaping, Are but flea-bitings to my Smart: I've slaine A kinsman: more, A friend I dearely lou'd: Nay more, no cause prouoking, but in rash And hellish choller. I had thought my Loue had cannon-proofe bin 'gainst A world of iniuries: when see, all is split By a small wind. Cursed be thou my Sword, The Instrument of Fury: Cursed hand, Which mad'st the thrust: But most accursed Part, Whose ruddy flesh triangular boyld in flame, Like an Aetnean, or Vesuvian Salamander. That Breast, I so could hugge, that faithfull breast, That snowy white, I with darke sanguine stayn'd; And from the wounds red lips, his panting heart Did seeme to speake, Is this a friendly deed? O no, Hirildas: Beares can harmelesse play, Lyons can dally, and sheath vp their clawes: I onely, worst of brutes, kill friends in iest. Why dost Androgeus kindly-cruell keepe Mee from their Sentence? Say, Law bids me dye: If Law should not, Ile make that Law my selfe. Shall Ensignes be display'd, and Nations rage About so vild a wretch? Shall forraine hoofes Kick vp our trembling dust, and must a Caesar Redeeme my folly with a kingdomes fall? First may I stop blacke Cerberus triple iawes. Dye, Dye, thou hast out-liv'd thy selfe. Thou only, Phaenix of females, still dost bind and bound My runnagate spirit in these walles of mudde: From thee, and For thee tis, I breath. Yet how Borrow can I his Shape, or vse mine owne? Odious before, now worse than hell-borne goblin With brand and chaines, to skare this Doue all quaking Twixt wrath and feare. But Time may fauour win: When Hope doth fayle, then Knife or Rope begin. Wisdome confirme my Sense: what seem'd their number?