Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 12 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.
And help each other, there were left no room For thy vain aid. Wisdom, whose strong-built plots Leave nought to hazard, mocks thy futile power. Industrious labour drags thee by the locks. Bound to his toiling Car, and not attending Till thou dispense, reaches his own reward. Only the lazy sluggard yawning lies Before thy threshold, gaping for thy dole, And licks the easy hand that feeds his sloth. The shallow, rash, and unadvised man Makes thee his stale, disburdens all the follies Of his misguided actions, on thy shoulders. Vanish from hence, and seek those Idiots out That thy fantastic godhead hath allowed, And rule that giddy superstitious crowd. Hedone, Pleasure, a young woman with a smiling face, in a light lascivious habit, adorned with silver and gold, her Temples crowned with a garland of Roses, and over that a Rainbow circling her head down to her shoulders. What wanton's this? This is the sprightly Lady Hedone, a merry gamester, this people call her Pleasure. The reasons (equal judges) here alleged By the dismissed Pretenders, all concur To strengthen my just title to the Sphere. Honour, or Wealth, or the contempt of both, Have in themselves no simple real good, But as they are the means to purchase Pleasure; The paths that lead to my delicious Palace; They for my sake, I for mine own am prized. Beyond me nothing is, I am the Goal, The journeys end, to which the sweating world, And wearied Nature travels. For this, the best And wisest sect of all Philosophers, Made me the seat of supreme happiness. And though some, more austere, upon my ruins, Did to the prejudice of Nature, raise Some petty low-built virtues, 'twas because They wanted wings to reach my soaring pitch. Had they been Princes borne, themselves had proved Of all mankind the most luxurious. For those delights, which to their low condition Were obvious, they with greedy appetite Sucked and devoured: from offices of State, From cares of family, children, wife, hopes, fears, Retired, the churlish Cynic in his Tub Enjoyed those pleasures which his tongue defamed. Nor am I ranked 'mongst the superfluous goods; My necessary offices preserve Each single man, and propagate the kind. Then am I universal as the light, Or common Air we breathe; and since I am The general desire of all mankind, Civil Felicity must reside in me. Tell me what rate my choicest pleasures bear, When for the short delight of a poor draught Of cheap cold water, great Lysimachus Rendered himself slave to the Scythians. Should I the curious structure of my seats, The art and beauty of my several objects, Rehearse at large, your bounties would reserve For every sense a proper constellation; But I present their Persons to your eyes. Come forth my subtle Organs of delight, With changing figures please the curious eye, And charm the ear with moving Harmony.
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)
And helpe each other, there were left no roome For thy vaine ayd. Wiſdome, whoſe ſtrong-built plots Leave nought to hazard, mockes thy futile power. Induſtrious labour drags thee by the lockes. Bound to his toyling Car, and not attending Till thou diſpence, reaches his owne reward. Onely the lazy ſluggard yawning lyes Before thy threſhold, gaping for thy dole, And lickes the eaſie hand that feeds his ſloth. The ſhallow, raſh, and unadviſed man Makes thee his ſtale, disburdens all the follies Of his miſ-guided actions, on thy ſhoulders. Vaniſh from hence, and ſeeke thoſe Ideots out That thy fantaſticke god-head hath allow'd, And rule that giddy ſuperſtitious crowd. Hedone, Pleaſure, a young woman with a ſmiling face, in a light laſcivious habit, adorn'd with ſilver and gold, her Temples crown'd with a garland of Roſes, and over that a Rainbow eireling her head downe to her ſhoulders. What wanton's this? This is the ſprightly Lady Hedone, a merry gameſter, this people call her Pleaſure. The reaſons (equall Iudges) here alleag'd By the diſmiſt Pretenders, all concurre To ſtrengthen my juſt title to the Spheare. Honour, or Wealth, or the contempt of both, Have in themſelves no ſimple reall good, But as they are the meanes to purchaſe Pleaſure; The paths that lead to my delicious Palace; They for my ſake, I for mine owne am priz'd. Beyond me nothing is, I am the Gole, The journeyes end, to which the ſweating world, And wearied Nature travels. For this, the beſt And wiſeſt ſect of all Philoſophers, Made me the ſeat of ſupreme happineſſe. And though ſome, more anſtere, upon my ruines, Did to the prejudice of Nature, raiſe Some petty low-built vertues, 'twas becauſe They wanted wings to reach my ſoaring pitch. Had they beene Prinees borne, themſelves had prov'd Of all mankind the moſt luxurious. For thoſe delights, which to their low condition Were obvious, they with greedy appetite Suck'd and devour'd: from offices of State, From cares of family, children, wife, hopes, feares, Retir'd, the churliſh Cynicke in his Tub Enjoy'd thoſe pleaſures which his tongue defam'd. Nor am I rank'd mongſt the ſuperſluous goods; My neceſſary offices preſerve Each ſingle man, and propogate the kind. Then am I univerſall as the light, Or common Ayre we breathe; and ſince I am The generall deſire of all mankinde, Civill Felicity muſt reſide in me. Tell me what rate my choyceſt pleaſures beare, When for the ſhort delight of a poore draught Of cheape cold water, great Lyſimachus Rendred himſelfe ſlave to the Scythians. Should I the curious ſtructure of my ſeats, The art and beauty of my ſeverall objects, Rehearſe at large, your bounties would reſerve For every ſenſe a proper conſtellation; But I preſent their Perſons to your eyes. Come forth my ſubtle Organs of delight, With changing figures pleaſe the curious eye, And charme the eare with moving Harmonie.