Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 11 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
I come not here (you gods) to plead the Right By which Antiquity assigned my Deity, Though no peculiar station 'mongst the Stars, Yet general power to rule their influence, Or boast the Title of Omnipotent, Ascribed me then, by which I rivaled Iove, Since you have canceled all those old records; But confident in my good cause and merit, Claim a succession in the vacant Orb. For since Astraa fled to heaven, I sit Her Deputy on Earth, I hold her scales And weigh men's Fates out, who have made me blind, Because themselves want eyes to fee my causes, Call me inconstant, cause my works surpass The shallow fathom of their human reason; Yet here, like blinded justice, I dispense With nay impartial hands, their constant lots, And if desertless, impious men engross My best rewards, the fault is yours, you gods, That scant your graces to mortality, And niggards of your good, scarce spare the world One virtuous, for a thousand wicked men. It is no error to confer dignity, But to bestow it on a vicious man; I gave the dignity, but you made the vice, Make you men good, and I'll make good men happy That Plutus is refused, dismays me not, He is my Drudge, and the external pomp, In which he decks the World, proceeds from me, Not him; like Harmony, that not resides In strings, or notes, but in the hand and voice. The revolutions of Empires, States, Sceptres, and Crowns, are but my game and sport, Which as they hang on the events of War, So those depend upon my turning wheel. You warlike Squadrons, who in battles joined, Dispute the Right of Kings, which I decide, Present the model of that martial frame, By which, when Crowns are staked, I rule the game. Madam, I should censure you, pro falso clamore, for preferring a scandalous cross-bill of recrimination against the gods, but your blindness shall excuse you. Alas! what would it advantage you, if virtue were as universal as vice is? it would only follow, that as the world now exclaims upon you for exalting the vicious, it would then rail as fast at you for depressing the virtuous; so they would still keep their tune, though you changed their ditty. The mists, in which future events are wrapped, That oft succeed beside the purposes Of him that works, his dull eyes not discerning The first great cause, offered thy clouded shape To his enquiring search; so in the dark The groping world first found thy Deity, And gave thee rule over contingencies, Which, to the piercing eye of Providence, Being fixed and certain, where past and to come, Are always present, thou dost disappear, Losest thy being, and art not all. Be thou then only a deluding Phantom, At best a blind guide, leading blinder fools; Who, would they but survey their mutual wants,
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)
I come not here (you gods) to plead the Right By which Antiquity aſſign'd my Deitie, Though no peculiarſtation' mongſt the Stars, Yet generall power to rule their influence, Or boaſt the Title of Omnipotent, Aſcrib'd me then, by which I rival'd Iove, Since you have cancell'd all thoſe old records; But confident in my good cauſe and merit, Claime a ſucceſſion in the vacant Orbe. For ſince Aſtraa fled to heaven, I ſit Her Deputy on Earth, I hold her skales And weigh mens Fates out, who have made me blind, Becauſe themſelves want eyes to fee my cauſes, Call me inconſtant, cauſe my workes ſurpaſſe The ſhallow fathom of their human reaſon; Yet here, like blinded Iuſtice, I diſpence With nay impartiall hands, their conſtant lots, And if deſertleſſe, impious men engroſſe My beſt rewards, the fault is yours, you gods, That ſcant your graces to mortalitie, And niggards of your good, ſcarce ſpare the world One vertuous, for a thouſand wicked men. It is no error to conferre dignity, But to beſtow it on a vicious man; I gave the dignity, but you made the vice, Make you men good, and I'le make good men happy That Plutus is refus'd, diſmaies me not, He is my Drudge, and the externall pompe, In which he deckes the World, proceeds from me, Not him; like Harmony, that not reſides In ſtrings, or notes, but in the hand and voyce. The revolutions of Empires, States, Scepters, and Crownes, are but my game and ſport, Which as they hang on the events of Warre, So thoſe depend upon my turning wheele. You warlike Squadrons, who in battels joyn'd, Diſpute the Right of Kings, which I decide, Preſent the modell of that martiall frame, By which, when Crownes are ſtak'd, I rule the game. Madam, I ſhould cenſure you, pro falſo clamor, for preferring a skandalous croſ-bill of recrimination againſt the gods, but your blindneſſe ſhall excuſe you. Alas! what would it advantage you, if vertue were as univerſall as vice is? it would onely follow, that as the world now exclaimes upon you for exalting the vicious, it would then raile as faſt at you for depreſſing the vertuous; ſo they would ſtill keep their tune, though you chang'd their ditty. The miſts, in which future events are wrap'd, That oft ſucceed beſide the purpoſes Of him that workes, his dull eyes not diſcerning The firſt great cauſe, offer'd thy clouded ſhape To his enquiring ſearch; ſo in the darke The groping world firſt found thy Deity, And gave thee rule over contingencies, Which, to the piercing eye of Providence, Being fix'd and certaine, where paſt and to come, Are alwayes preſent, thou doſt diſappeare, Loſeſt thy being, and art not all. Be thou then onely a deluding Phantome, At beſt a blind guide, leading blinder fooles; Who, would they but ſurvay their mutuall wants,