Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1621 [Aug 3; Aug 5; Sep] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
HOw right he doth confess him in his face, His brow, his eye, and every mark of State; As if he were the issue of each Grace, And bore about him both his fame, and fate. Look, look, is he not fair, And fresh, fragrant too As Summer sky, or purged Air, And looks as Lilies do, That were this morning blown. O more! that more of him were known. Look how the Winds upon the Waves grown tame, Take up Land sounds upon their purple wings; And catching each from other, bear the fame To every angle of their sacred springs. So will we take his praise, and hurl his name About the Globe, in thousand Ay'ry rings, If his great virtue be in lore with fame, For that contemned, both are neglected things. GOod Princes soar above their fame, And in their worth, Come greater forth, Than in their name. Such, such the Father is, Whom every title strives to kiss; Who on his Royal grounds unto himself doth raise, The work to trouble fame, and to astonish praise. INdeed he's not Lord alone of all the State, But of the love of men, and of the Empire's fate. The Muse's Arts, the Schools commerce, our honour's laws, And Virtues hung on him, as on their working cause. His Handmaid Justice is, Wisdom, his Wife; His Mistress, Mercy; Temperance, his life. His Page's bounty, and grace which many prove, His Guards are Magnanimity, and love. His Ushers, Council, Truth, and Piety, And all that follows him, Felicity. O that we understood Our good; there's happiness indeed in blood, And store, But how much more, When virtue's flood In the same stream doth hit? As that grows high with years, so happiness with it. LOve, love his fortune than, and virtues known, Who is the top of men, But makes the happiness our own; Since where the Prince, for goodness is renowned, The Subject with Felicity is Crowned. AT Burley, Bever, and now last at Windsor, Which shows we are Gipsies of no common kind Sir. You have behold (and with delight) their change, And how they came transformed, may think it strange. It being a thing not touched at by our Poet, Good Ben slept there, or else forgot to show it; But lest it prove like wonder to the sight, To see a Gipsy, as an Aethiope, white. Know, that what died our faces, was an ointment Made, and laid on by Mr. Woolfes appointment, The Court Licanthropos; yet without spells, By a mere Barber, and no Magic els: It was fetched of with water, and a ball, And to our transformation, this is all, Save what the Master Fashioner calls his, For to Gipsies Metamorphosis; Who doth disguise his habit, and his face, And takes on a false person by his place: The power of Poetry can never fail her; Assisted by a Barber, and a Tailor.
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)
HOw right he doth confeſſe him in his face, His browe, his eye, and ev'ry marke of State; As if he were the iſſue of each Grace, And bore about him both his fame, and fate. LOoke, looke, is hee not faire, And freſh, fragrant too As Summer skie, or purged Aire, And lookes as Lillies doe, That were this morning blowne. Oh more! that more of him were knowne. LOoke how the Windes upon the Waves growne tame, Take up Land ſounds upon their purple wings; And catching each from other, beare the fame To ev'ry angle of their ſacred ſprings. So will we take his praiſe, and hurle his name About the Globe, in thouſand Ay'ry rings, If his great vertue be in lore with fame, For that contem'd, both are neglected things. GOod Princes ſoare above their fame, And in their worth, Come greater forth, Then in their name. Such, ſuch the Father is, Whom ev'ry title ſtrives to kiſſe; Who on his Royall grounds unto himſelfe doth raiſe, The worke to trouble fame, and to aſtoniſh praiſe. INdeed hee's not Lord alone of all the State, But of the love of men, and of the Empires fate. The Muſes Arts, the Schooles commerce, our honours lawes, And Vertues hang on him, as on their working cauſe. His Hand-mayd Juſtice is, Wiſedome, his Wife; His Miſtreſſe, Mercie; Temperance, his life. His Pages bounty, and grace which many prove, His Guards are Magnanimitie, and love. His Uſhers, Councell, Truth, and Pietie, And all that followes him, Felicitie. OH that we underſtood Our good; Ther's happineſſe indeed in blood, And ſtore, But how much more, When vertu's flood In the ſame ſtreame doth hit? As that growes high with yeares, ſo happineſſe with it. LOve, love his fortune then, and vertues knowne, Who is the toppe of men, But makes the happineſſe our owne; Since where the Prince, for goodneſſe is renownd, The Subject with Felicitie is Crownd. AT Burley, Bever, and now laſt at Windſor, Which ſhewes we are Gipſies of no common kinde Sir. You have behold (and with delight) their change, And how they came transform'd, may thinke it ſtrange. It being a thing not touch't at by our Poet, Good Ben ſlept there, or elſe forgot to ſhew it; But leaſt it prove like wonder to the ſight, To ſee a Gipſie, as an Aethiope, white. Know, that what dy'd our faces, was an oyntment Made, and layd on by Mr. Woolfes appointment, The Court Licanthropos; yet without ſpells, By a meere Barber, and no Magicke ells: It was fetcht off with water, and a ball, And to our transformation, this is all, Save what the Maſter Faſhioner calls his, For to Gipſies Metamorphoſis; Who doth diſguiſe his habit, and his face, And takes on a falſe perſon by his place: The power of Poetrie can never faile her; Aſſiſted by a Barber, and a Taylor.