Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi typicality 0.78 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
True, 'tis the King's will he should be obeyed But he's a Slave; the man looks personable, And fit for Action, but he is a Slave. He may be noble, virtuous, generous, all, But he is still a Slave. As if the sullying Must turn all purer mettle into dross; Or that a jewel might not sometimes be In the possession of a private man. What? you too for the rising Sun my Lord Though't be but a Meteor cast from the true one? If that the conquered Hart must lead the Lion, I'll teach my wishes to run thwart unto That large success you look for. Be my fears No Omen to the Kingdom, o ye Gods, But I suspect, this Comic folly will Sport our free Monarchy into a Nation Of cheated Slaves. But peace; the Queen. We two Will go, and see his carriage. Do my Lords; And 'cause you wish his State so well, pray see The Slaves provided of their clothes. Y'Have seen This Three-days King my Lords? I cannot sport At th' Miseries of men: methinks I feel A touch of pity, as often as I view him. How do you think he'll bear his State? As Schoolboys In time of Misrule, look big a while, and then Return dejected to the Rod. I wonder No woman's chosen Queen for company. These Male wits are but gross and sluggish; faith You'd see a delicate Comedy, if that A she wit might but Imp his Reign. O Madam! Your Sex is too imperious to Rule; You are too busy, and too stirring, to Be put in Action; your Curiosity Would do as much harm in a Kingdom, as A Monkey in a Glass-shop; move and remove, Till you had broken all. Things than it seems Are very brittle, that you dare not trust us. Your Closet and your Senate would be one; You'd Gossip at the Council-table, where The grand contrivance of some finer Posset Would be a State affair. I never knew But this one difference yet twixt us and you: Your follies are more serious, your vanities Stronger, and thicker woven; and your Counsels About the razing of a Fort or City, Contrived as ours about a mess of spoon-meat; So that you laugh, and are laughed at again. I hope you do but exercise, your wits Are not at sharps? we'll venture how he will, Foils, or bare points we care not. Cease the strife. How's this Cratander qualified, my Lords' What virtues has he? No great store of virtues; he's a tough fellow, one that seems to stand Much on a resolute carelessness, and hath A spice of that unnecessary thing Which the mysterious call Philosophy. Here comes a couple can inform you better: They have observed the thing. MY Lords, what think you Of this new King? what doth he do? what is he?
seed 43: T25 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
True, 'tis the King's will he should be obey'd But hee's a Slave; the man lookes personable, And fit for Action, but he is a Slave. He may be noble, vertuous, generous, all, But he is still a Slave. As if the sullying Must turne all purer mettle into drosse; Or that a lewell might not sometimes be In the possession of a private man. What? you too for the rising Sun my Lord Though't be but a Meteor cast from the true one? If that the conquer'd Hart must lead the Lyon, I'le teach my wishes to runne thwart unto That large successe you looke for. Be my feares No Omen to the Kingdome, ô yee Gods, But I suspect, this Comicke folly will Sport our free Monarchy into a Nation Of cheated Slaves. But peace; the Queene. We two Will goe, and see his carriage. Doe my Lords; And 'cause you wish his State so well, pray see The Slaves provided of their cloathes. Y'Have seene This Three-dayes King my Lords? I cannot sport At th' Miseries of men: methinkes I feele A touch of pity, as often as I view him. How doe you thinke hee'le beare his State? As Schoole-boyes In time of Misrule, looke big a while, and then Returne dejected to the Rod. I wonder No woman's chosen Queene for company. These Male wits are but grosse and sluggish; fayth You'd see a delicate Comedy, if that A she wit might but Impe his Reigne. O Madam! Your Sexe is too imperious to Rule; You are too busy, and too stirring, to Be put in Action; your Curiosity Would doe as much harme in a Kingdome, as A Monkey in a Glasse-shop; move and remove, Till you had broken all. Thinges then it seemes Are very brittle, that you dare not trust us. Your Closet and your Senate would be one; You'd Gossip at the Councell-table, where The grand contrivance of some finer Posset Would be a State affaire. I never knew But this one difference yet 'twixt us and you: Your follies are more serious, your vanities Stronger, and thicker woven; and your Councels About the razing of a Fort or City, Contriv'd as ours about a messe of spoon-meat; So that you laugh, and are laugh'd at againe. I hope you doe but exercise, your wits Are not at sharpes? Wee'le venture how he will, Foyles, or bare poynts we care not. Cease the strife. How's this Cratander qualify'd, my Lords' What vertues has he? No great store of vertues; Hee's a tough fellow, one that seemes to stand Much on a resolute carelesnesse, and hath A spice of that unnecessary thing Which the mysterious call Philosophy. Here comes a couple can informe you better: They have observ'd the thing. MY Lords, what thinke you Of this new King? what doth he do? what is he?