The Conspiracy (Pallantus and Eudora) · chunk 22 of 63
Killigrew, Henry · published 1638 · first performed or written 1635 [Jan 8(?)] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Can the grave Quicken her ashes into Soldiers? shall Stench and corruption yield us enemies? We are safe from those that live, they will not hurt, And those that sleep in the forgotten dust Cannot. There is nothing now remaining To our care, but to give thanks we are safe Enough, if that we can rejoice. Thou lettest Thy best days pass without receiving fruit That should be cropped from them. I did expect Thou shouldst have urged me to thy Nuptials, Such cares befit thee best; how the Triumphs Should be ordered, and Hymen's torch well lighted. Pray Heaven no other flames break out But such as mirth show forth, when treason laughs Upon your sports you call it piety, Cause it looks smoothly on your strength when't runs Out in an idle pomp, suffering your vigour To waste itself in triumph, and diminish In a continued jollity, that so, Sir, Ruin may be quiet, and you perish Without disturbance, nor are all things yet So free from our suspicion as you make 'em, You do suppose that all close eyes must sleep, When they are ne'er more watchful, than when thus They counterfeit neglect. Severely prying Into the depth of things, by seeming not T'observe the face and outside; Treason doth Walk in a whisper yet, their hate is busy And makes no noise; think not that it is their fear, But their advice and council makes it silent. Do you expect a Proclamation, or A Herald from Sedition? 'tis too late To say you were deceived, when that the Trumpet Shall summon to your ruin, you do slumber, Girt you, before the fire hath gained your Cabin, And do not trust your preservation to A Miracle, or a chance; you have an heir, Yet he is none of yours, he that begot me Did perish long ago. I was the child Of Vigour, not of Luxury. I must tell you, Sir, A few flattering Lords gild over the defects And ruins of your State, they make you call A Lethargy, Security; and that a Kingdom Which, like to children's houses on the sand, Reared up in sport and toying, will become A Prey unto the wave that first approacheth, They can perhaps judge well of meats and wines, Good Table Statesmen, Soldiers at a banquet, Strong, to o'ercome a Goblet, or a Charger: But kingdom's safeties are not owed unto The palate, and the Stomach; if that these Were State affairs, your Council were most found, And every breast a Synod; if that Music could now Raise Walls and Cities as of old, Your Realm would be impregnable. Hast thou yet done? Not all the Ghosts that I have made, have been Thus cruel to me, nor, as yet, their graves Have threated half these evils, thy mother's Labour was a conception to these pains Thou hourly bringst upon me.
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)
Can the grave Quicken her ashes into Souldiers? shall Stench and corruption yeild us enemies? We are safe from those that live, they will not hurt, And those that sleepe in the forgotten dust Cannot. There is nothing now remaining To our care, but to give thankes wee are safe Enough, if that we can rejoyce. Thou letst Thy best dayes passe without receiving fruit That should be cropt from them. I did expect Thou shouldst have urgd me to thy Nuptialls, Such cares befit thee best; how the Triumphs Should be ordered, and Hymens torch well lighted. Pray Heauen no other flames breake out But such as mirth shew forth, when treason laughes Upon your sports you call it piety, Cause it lookes smoothly on your strength when't runnes Out in an idle pompe, suffering your vigor To wast it selfe in triumph, and diminish In a continued jollity, that so, Sir, Ruine may be quiet, and you perish Without disturbance, nor are all things yet So free from our suspition as you make 'em, You doe suppose that all close eyes must sleepe, When they are nere more watchfull, than when thus They counterfeit neglect. Severely prying Into the depth of things, by seeming not T'observe the face and outside; Treason doth Walke in a whisper yet, their hate is busie And makes no noise; think not that it is their feare, But their advice and councell makes it silent. Doe you expect a Proclamation, or A Herauld from Sedition? tis too late To say you were deceived, when that the Trumpet Shall summon to your ruine, you doe slumber, Girt you, before the fire hath gaind your Cabin, And doe not trust your preservation to A Miracle, or a chance; you have an heire, Yet hee is none of yours, hee that begot mee Did perish long agoe. I was the child Of Vigor, not of Luxurie. I must tell you, Sir, A few flattering Lords gild ore the defects And ruines of your State, they make you call A Lethargy, Security; and that a Kingdome Which, like to childrens houses on the sand, Reard up in sport and toying, will become A Prey unto the wave that first approacheth, They can perhaps judge well of meates and wines, Good Table States-men, Souldiers at a banquet, Strong, to orecome a Goblet, or a Charger: But Kingdomes safeties are not owed unto The Pallat, and the Stomacke; if that these Were State affaires, your Councell were most found, And every brest a Synod; if that Musique could now Raise Walls and Cities as of old, Your Realme would be impregnable. Hast thou yet done? Not all the Ghosts that I have made, have beene Thus cruell to me, nor, as yet, their graves Have threated halfe these evills, thy mothers Labour was a conception to these paines Thou howerly bringst upon me.