Chapman, George / Shirley, James · published 1639 · first performed or written 1612 [1611-1613; revised by Shirley and licensed for stage, Apr 29, 1635] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T30 Constables, justices and the watch · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T30: constable, squire, tub, clay, worship, justice, turf, mr, hun, valentine.
He truly weighs and feels Sir, what a charge The subjects live are (being even their lives Laid on the hand of power,) which abused Though seen, blood flow not from the justice seat, 'tis in true sense as grievous, and horrid. It argues nothing less, but since your Lord Is diversely reported for his parts, What's your true censure of his general worth, Virtue and judgement. As of a Picture wrought to optic reason, That to all passers by, seems as they move Now woman, now a Monster, now a Devil, And till you stand, and in a right line view it, You cannot well judge what the main form is, So men that view him but in vulgar passes Casting but lateral, or partial glances, At what he is, suppose him weak, unjust, Bloody, and monstrous, but stand free and fast, And judge him by no more than what you know Ingenuously, and by the right laid line Of truth, he truly, will all styles deserve Of wise, just, good, a man both soul and nerve. Sir, I must join in just belief with you, But what's his rival the Lord high Constable? As just, and well inclined when he's himself, (Not wrought on with the counsels, and opinions Of other men) and the main difference is, The Admiral is not flexible nor won To move one scruple, when he comprehends The honest tract and justness of a cause, The Constable explores not so sincerely The course he runs, but takes the mind of others (By name judicial) for what his own judgement, and knowledge should conclude. A fault In my apprehension, another's knowledge Applied to my instruction, cannot equal My own soul's knowledge, how to inform Acts; The Sun's rich radiance shot through waves most fair, Is but a shadow to his beams i'th' air, His beams that in the air we so admire, Is but a darkness to his flame in fire, In fire his fervour but as vapour flies To what his own pure bosom rarefies: And the Almighty wisdom, having given Each man within himself an apt light To guide his acts, than any light without him (Creating nothing not in all things equal) It seems a fault in any that depend On others knowledge, and exile their own. 'tis nobly argued, and exemplified, But now I hear my Lord, and his young rival Are to be reconciled, and then one light May serve to guide them both. I wish it may, the King being made first mover To form their reconcilement, and inflame it With all the sweetness of his praise and honour. See, 'tis dispatched I hope, the King doth grace it. This doth express the noblest fruit of peace. Which when the great begin, the humble end In joyful imitation, all combining A guardian beyond the Thrigian knot Past wit to lose it, or the sword, be still so.
seed 43: T62 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
He truely weighes and feeles Sir, what a charge The ſubjects livings are (being even their lives Laid on the hand of power,) which abus'd Though ſeene, blood flow not from the juſtice ſeate, Tis in true ſence as grievous, and horrid. It argues nothing leſſe, but ſince your Lord Is diverſly reported for his parts, Whats your true cnſure of his generall worth, Vertue and Iudgement. As of a Picture wrought to opticke reaſon, That to all paſſers by, ſeemes as they move Now woman, now a Monſter, now a Divell, And till you ſtand, and in a right line view it, You cannot well judge what the maine forme is, So men that view him but in vulgar paſſes Caſting but laterall, or partiall glances, At what he is, ſuppoſe him weake, unjuſt, Bloody, and monſtrous, but ſtand free and faſt, And judge him by no more than what you know Ingenuouſly, and by the right laid line Of truth, he truely, will all ſtiles deſerve Of wiſe, juſt, good, a man both ſoule and nerve. Sir, I muſt joyne in juſt beleefe with you, But whats his rivall the Lord high Conſtable? As juſt, and well inclin'd when hee's himſelfe, (Not wrought on with the counſells, and opinions Of other men) and the maine difference is, The Admirall is not flexible nor wonne To move one ſcruple, when he comprehends The honeſt tract and juſtneſſe of a cauſe, The Conſtable explores not ſo ſincerely The courſe hee runnes, but takes the minde of others (By name Iudiciall) for what his owne Iudgement, and knowledge ſhould conclude. A fault In my apprehenſion, anothers knowledge Applied to my inſtruction, cannot equall My owne ſoules knowledge, how to informe Acts; The Sunnes rich radiance ſhot through waves moſt faire, Is but a ſhaddow to his beames ith' ayre, His beames that in the ayre we ſo admire, Is but a darkeneſſe to his flame in fire, In fire his fervour but as vapour flies To what his owne pure boſome rarifies: And the Almighty wiſedom, having given Each man within himſelfe an apter light To guide his acts, than any light without him (Creating nothing not in all things equall) It ſeems a fault in any that depend On others knowledge, and exile their owne. Tis nobly argued, and exemplified, But now I heare my Lord, and his young rivall Are to be reconcil'd, and then one light May ſerve to guide them both. I wiſh it may, the King being made firſt mover To forme their reconcilement, and enflame it With all the ſweetneſſe of his praiſe and honour. See, tis diſpatch'd I hope, the King doth grace it. This doth expreſſe the nobleſt fruit of peace. Which when the great begin, the humble end In joyfull imitation, all combining A gardian beyond the Thrigian knot Paſt wit to loſe it, or the ſword, be ſtill ſo.