Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 11 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.81 · 502 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
See where Dame Fortune comes, you may know her by her wheel, and that veil over her eyes, with which she hopes like a seeled Pigeon to mount above the Clouds, and perch in the eighth Sphere: listen, she begins. I come not here (you gods) to plead the Right, By which Antiquity assigned my Deity, Though no peculiar station amongst 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 Astraea 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 see my causes, Call me inconstant, 'cause my works surpass The shallow fathom of their human reason; Yet here, like blinded justice, I dispense With my 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 joyn'd, Dispute the Right of Kings, which I decide, Present the model of that martial frame, By which, when Grownes are staked, I rule the game. Madam, I should censure you, pro salso 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 sor 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.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 289–340 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 11 of 15 in this edition
Length
502 words · 669 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T19 — Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractionsreviewed — decision pending · typicality 0.809 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
See where Dame Fortune comes, you may know her by her wheele, and that vayle over her eys, with which she hopes like a seel'd Pigeon to mount above the Clouds, and pearch in the eighth Spheare: listen, she begins. I come not here (you gods) to plead the Right, By which Antiquity assign'd my Deitie, Though no peculiar station '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 Astraea 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 see my causes, Call me inconstant, 'cause my workes surpasse The shallow fathom of their human reason; Yet here, like blinded Iustice, I dispence With my 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 mortality, 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, dismayes me not, He is my Drudge, and the externall pompe, 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 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 ning wheele. You walike Squadrons, who in , Dispute the Right of Kings, which I , Present the modell of that martiall , By which, when Grownes are stak'd, I rule the game. Madam, I should censure you, pro salso clamre, for preferring a scandalous crosbill 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 sor depressing the vertuous; so they would still keepe their tune, though you chang'd their Ditty. The mists, in which future 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 ound 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.