Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 10 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 497 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
Oft o'er his Throne I wave my awful Sceptre, And in the bowels of his state command, When 'midst his heaps of coin, and hills of gold, I pine, and starve the avaricious Foole. But I decline those titles, and lay claim To heaven, by right of Divine contemplation; She is my Darling, I, in my sost lap, Free from disturbing cares, bargains, accounts, Leases, Rents, Stewards, and the fear of thieves, That vex the rich, nurse her in calm repose, And with her, all the Virtues speculative, Which, but with me, find no secure retreat. For entertainment of this hour, I'll call A race of people to this place, that live At Nature's charge, and not importune heaven To chain the winds up, or keep back the storms, To stay the thunder, or forbid the hail To thresh the unreaped ear; but to all weathers, Both chilling srost, and scalding Sun, expose Their equal face. Come forth, my swarthy train, In this fair circle dance, and as you move. Mark, and foretell happy events of Love. I cannot but wonder that your perpetual conversation with Poets and Philosophers hath furnished you with no more Logic, or that you should think to impose upon us so gross an inference, as because Plutus and you are contrary, therefore whatsoever is denied of the one, must be true of the other; as if it should follow of necessity, because he is not Iupiter, you are. No, I give you to know, I am better versed in cavils with the gods, then to swallow such a fallacy, for though you two cannot be together in one place, yet there are many places that may be without you both, and such is heaven, where neither of you are likely to arrive: therefore let me advise you to marry yourself to Content, and beget sage Apothegms, and goodly moral Sentences in dispraise of Riches, and contempt of the world. Thou dost presume much, poor needy wretch, To claim a station in the Firmament, Because thy humble Cottage, or thy Tub Nurses some lazy or Pedantic virtue In the cheap Sunshine, or by shady springs With roots and pot-herbs; where thy right hand, Tearing those humane passions from the mind, Upon whose stocks fair blooming virtues flourish, Degradeth Nature, and benumbeth sense, And Gorgonlike, turns active men to stone. We not require the dull society Of your necessitated Temperance, Or that unnatural stupidity That knows nor joy nor sorrow; nor your Falsely exalted passive Fortitude Above the active: This low abject brood, That fix their seats in mediocrity, Become your servile minds; but we advance Such virtues only as admit excess, Brave bounteous Acts, Regal Magnificence, All-seeing Prudence, Magnanimity That knows no bound, and that Heroic virtue For which Antiquity hath left no name, But patterns only, such as Hercules, Achilles, Theseus. Back to thy loathed cell, And when thou seest the new enlightened Sphere, Study to know but what those Worthies were.
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)
Oft o're his Throne I wave my awfull Scepter, And in the bowels of his state command, When 'midst his heapes of coyne, and hils of gold, I pine, and starve the avaritious Foole. But I decline those titles, and lay clayme To heaven, by right of Divine contemplation; She is my Darling, I, in my sost lap, Free from disturbing cares, bargaines, accounts, Leases, Rents, Stewards, and the feare of theeves, That vex the rich, nurse her in calme repose, And with her, all the Vertues speculative, Which, but with me, find no secure retreat. For entertainment of this houre, Ile call A race of people to this place, that live At Natures charge, and not importune heaven To chayne the winds up, or keepe back the stormes, To stay the thunder, or forbid the hayle To thresh the unreap'd eare; but to all weathers, Both chilling srost, and scalding Sunne, expose Their equall face. Come forth, my swarthy traine, In this faire circle dance, and as you move. Marke, and foretell happy events of Love. I cannot but wonder that your perpetuall conversation with Poets and Philosophers hath furnished you with no more Logick, or that you should thinke to impose upon us so grosse an inference, as because Plutus and you are contrary, therefore whatsoever is denyed of the one, must bee true of the other; as if it should follow of necessity, because hee is not Iupiter, you are. No, I give you to know, I am better vers'd in cavils with the gods, then to swallow such a fallacie, for though you two cannot be together in one place, yet there are many places that may be without you both, and such is heaven, where neither of you are likely to arrive: therefore let me advise you to marry your selfe to Content, and beget sage Apothegmes, and goodly morall Sentences in disprayse of Riches, and contempt of the world. Thou dost pres me too much, poore ndy wretch, To claime a station in the Firmament, Because thy humble Cottage, or thy Tub Nses some lazie or Pedantique vertue In the cheape Sun-shine, or by shady springs With roots and pot-herbs; where thy right hand, Ting those humane passions from the mind, Vpon whose stocks faire blooming vertues flourish, Degdeth Nature, and ummeth sense, And Gorgon-like, turnes active men to stone. Wee not require the dull society Of your necessitated Tempe, Or that unnaturall stupidity That knowes nor joy nor sorrow; nor you forc' Falsly exalted passive Fortitude Above the active: This low abject brood, That fix their seats in mediocrity, Become your servile minds; but we advance Such vertues only as admit excesse, Brave bounteus Acts, Regall All-seeing Prudence, Magnimity That knowes no bound, and that Heroick vertue For which Antiquity hath left no name, But patternes only, such as Hercules, Achilles, Thesus. Backe to thy loath'd cell, And when thou seest the new enlightned Spheare, Study to know but what those Worthies were.