Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
The motion's worthy; crown the Goblet then. Would 'tbe his blood. By Truth herself th'offspring And child of Wine, Cratander dies e'er half The glass of his short Tyranny run out. This then to the infernal Gods. this To our just angers, Gods as great as they. Good Omen! so! the thickned streams run black; 'Twas blood methought I drank: 'twere Laziness To say, he shall be dead; he's dead already. Drink and prepare for Pleasures. Liberty. HE must be more than Man that gains it back Without my will. Your Justice must restore it. Will your severer Majesty triumph, With soft spoils of a Lady's Cabinet? As I would not feign Favour, and belie A Jewel or a Twist, to gain the name Of Creature, or of Servant unto any; So by your Beauty, (for if Persians may Swear by their Sun, I well may swear by that) Where honour is transmitted in a true Mysterious Gage of an Immaculate mind, I will defend it as some sacred Relic, Or some more secret pledge, dropped down from Heaven, To guard me from the dangers of the Earth. But in that You make it common, you bereave it o All that you call Divinity. He that vaunts Of a received Favour, aught to be Punished as Sacrilegious Persons are, 'Cause he doth violate that sacred thing, Pure, spotless Honour. But it may be seen, And yet not prostitute. I would not smother My Joys, and make my happiness a stealth. How your thoughts flatter your deceived Fancy Into a State, that when you leave to think, Dies, as your thoughts that kept it up! what is't That you call joy and happiness? I must Confess, I have no Merits, whose just heat May extract aught from you, called Love: yet when I do consider, that Affection Cannot look virtuously on any thing That is resplendent, but a subtle image Purely reflecting thence, must needs arise, And pay that Look again; I do take leave To say, the careful Deities provide, That Love shall ne'er be so unhappy, as To want his Brother. Why? I never spent A sigh for you; you never had a kiss, Nor the reversion of one yet. Such Love Is but Love's Idol; and these soft ones, that Confine it to a kiss, or an embrace, Do, as the superstitious did of old, Contract the Godhead into a Bull, or Goat, Or some such lustful Creature. Be it far, Be't far from me to think, where'er I see Clear streams of Beauty, that I may presume To trouble them with quenching of my thirst. Where a full splendour, where a bright effusion Of immaterial Beams do meet to Make up one Body of perfection; I should account myself injurious Unto that Deity, which hath let down Himself into those Rays, if that I should Draw nigh without an awful Adoration. Which my Religion pays to you: but being You like not the Devotion, be content To slight the Sacrifice, but spare the Altar.
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)
The motion's worthy; crowne the Goblet then. Would ▪twere his bloud. By Truth her self th'Ofspring And childe of Wine, Cratander dyes e're halfe The glasse of his short Tyranny run out. This thē to the infernall Gods. & this To our just angers, Gods as great as they. Good Omen! so! the thickned streames run black; 'Twas bloud methought I dranke: 'twere Lazynes To say, he shall be dead; hee's dead already. Drinke and prepare for Pleasures. Liberty. HE must be more than Man that gaynes it backe Without my will. Your Justice must restore it. Will your severer Majesty triumph, With soft spoyles of a Lady's Cabinet? As I would not feigne Favour, and be-ly A Jewell or a Twist, to gaine the name Of Creature, or of Servant unto any; So by your Beauty, (for if Persians may Sweare by their Sun, I well may sweare by that) Where honour is transmitted in a true Mysterious Gage of an Immaculate minde, I will defend it as some sacred Relique, Or some more secret pledge, drop'd downe from Heavn▪ To guard me from the dangers of the Earth. But in that You make it common, you bereave it o All that you call Divinity. He that vaunts Of a received Favour, ought to be Punish'd as Sacrilegious Persons are, 'Cause he doth violate that sacred thing, Pure, spotlesse Honour. But it may be seene, And yet not prostitute. I would not smother My Joyes, and make my happinesse a stealth. How your thoughts slatter your deceived Fancy Into a State, that when you leave to thinke, Dyes, as your thoughts that kept it up! what is't That you call joy and happinesse? I must Confesse, I have no Merits, whose just heat May extract ought from you, call'd Love: yet when I doe consider, that Affection Cannot looke vertuously on any thing That is resplendent, but a subtle image Purely reflecting thence, must needs arise, And pay that Looke againe; I doe take leave To say, the carefull Deities provide, That Love shall ne're be so unhappy, as To want his Brother. Why? I never spent A sigh for you; you never had a kisse, Nor the reversion of one yet. Such Love Is but Love's I doll; and these soft ones, that Confine it to a kisse, or an embrace, Doe, as the superstitious did of old, Contract the Godhead into a Bull, or Goat, Or some such lustfull Creature. Be it far, Be't far from me to thinke, where e're I see Cleare streames of Beauty, that I may presume To trouble them with quenching of my thirst. Where a full splendor, where a bright effusion Of immateriall Beames doe meet to Make up one Body of perfection; I should accunt my selfe injurious Unto that Deity, which hath let downe Himselfe into those Rayes, if that I should Draw nigh without an awfull Adoration. Which my Religion payes to you: but being You like not the Devotion, be content To slight the Sacrifice, but spare the Altar.