Comus (The Masque at Ludlow Castle) · chunk 12 of 15
Milton, John · published 1637 · first performed or written 1634 [Sep 29] (Annals) pastoral; masque T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.74 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and th'unsought diamonds Would so emblaze he forehead of the Deep, And so bestud with stars that they below Would grow enured to light, and come at last To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows. List Lady be not coy, and be not cozened With that same vaunted name Virginity, Beauty is nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be currant, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in th'enjoyment of itself If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalk with languished head. Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities Where most may wonder at the workmanship; It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence; course complexions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the huswives wool. What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn There was another meaning in these gifts? Think what, and be advised, you are but young yet. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips In this unhallowed air, but that this Juggler Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes Obtruding false rules pranked in reasons garb. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments And virtue has no tongue to check her pride: Impostor do not charge most innocent nature As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance, she good cateress Means her provision only to the good That live according to her sober laws And holy dictate of spare Temperance, If every just man that now pines with want Had but a moderate, and beseeming share Of that which lewdy-pampered Luxury Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed In unsuperfluous even proportion, And she no whit encumbered with her store, And then the giver would be better thanked,' His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony ne'er looks to heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besorted base ingratitude crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on? Or have I said enough? to him that dares Arm his profane tongue with reproachful words Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity Fain would I something say, yet to what end? Thou hast nor Ear, nor School to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mystery That must be uttered to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of Virginity, And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More happiness than this thy present lot. Enjoy your dear Wit, and gay Rhetoric That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced; Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits To such a flame of sacred vehemence, That dumb things would be moved to sympathize, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, Till all thy magic structures reared so high Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The sea ore-fraught would swell, and th'unsought diamonds Would so emblaze he forehead of the Deep, And so bestudde with stars that they below Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows. List Ladie be not coy, and be not cosen'd With that same vaunted name Virginitie, Beautie is natures coine, must not be hoorded, But must be currant, and the good thereof Consists in mutuall and partaken blisse, Vnsavourie in th'injoyment of it selfe If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalke with languish't head. Beautie is natures brag, and must be showne In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities Where most may wonder at the workmanship; It is for homely features to keepe home, They had their name thence; course complexions And cheeks of sorrie graine will serve to ply The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wooll. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morne There was another meaning in these gifts? Thinke what, and be adviz'd, you are but yong yet. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips In this unhallow'd aire, but that this Jugler Would thinke to charme my judgement, as mine eyes Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garbe. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments And vertue has no tongue to check her pride: Impostor doe not charge most innocent nature As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance, she good cateresse Means her provision only to the good That live according to her sober laws And holy dictate of spare Temperance, If every just man that now pines with want Had but a moderate, and beseeming share Of that which lewdy-pamper'd Luxurie Now heaps upon some few with vast excesse, Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't In unsuperfluous even proportion, Anshe no whit encomber'd with her store, And then the giver would be better thank't,' His prse due paid, for swinish gluttony Ne're looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, But with besorted base ingratitude Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I goe on? Or have I said enough? to him that dares Arme his profane tongue with re words Against the Sun-clad power of Chastitie Faine would I something say, yet to what end? Thou hast nor Eare, nor Scule to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mysterie That must be utter'd to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of Virginitie, And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More hapinesse then this thy praesent lot. Enjoy your deere Wit, and gay Rhetorick That hath so well beene taught her dazling fence, Thou art not fit to heare thy selfe convinc't; Yet should I trie, the uncontrouled worth Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits To such a flame of sacred vehemence, That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize, And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high Were shatter'd into heaps ore thy false head.