Campaspe (Alexander, Campaspe, and Diogenes) · chunk 14 of 25
Lyly, John · published 1584 · first performed or written c.1583 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) · before the Court T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so typicality 0.76 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Parmenio, and Clytus, I would have you both ready to go into Persia about an embassage no less profitable to me, than to yourselves honourable. We are ready at all commands, wishing nothing else, but continually to be commanded. Well, then withdraw yourselves, till I have further considered of this matter. Now we will see how Apelles goeth forward: I doubt me that nature hath overcome art, and her countenance his cunning. You love, and therefore think any thing. But not so far in love with Campaspe, as with Bucephalus, if occasion serve either of conflict or of conquest. Occasion cannot want, if will do not. Behold all Persia swelling in the pride of their own power, the Scythians careless what courage or fortune can do: the Egyptians dreaming in the soothsayings of their Augurs, and gaping over the sinoak of their beasts entrails. All these Alexander are to be subdued, if that world be not slipped out of your head, which you have sworn to conquer with that hand. I confess the labours fit for Alexander, and yet recreation necessary among so many assaults, bloody wounds, intolerable troubles: give me leave a little, if not to sit, yet to breath. And doubt not but Alexander can when he will throw affections as far from him, as he can cowardice. But behold Diogenes talking with one at his tub. One penny Diogenes, I am a Cynic. He made thee a beggar, that first gave thee any thing. Why, if thou wilt give nothing, nobody will give thee. I want nothing, till the springs dry, & the earth perish. I gather for the Gods. And I care not for those gods, which want money. Thou art a right Cynic, that will give nothing. Thou art not, that will beg anything. Alexander, king Alexander, give a poor Cynic a groat. It is not for a king to give a groat. Then give me a talon. It is not for a beggar to ask a talon. Away. Apelles? Here. Now Gentlewoman, doth not your beauty put the painter to his trump? Yes my lord, seeing so disordered a countenance, he feareth he shall, shadow a deformed counterfeit. Would he could colour the life with the feature. And methinketh Apelles, were you as cunning as report saith you are, you may paint flowers as well with sweet smells, as fresh colours, observing in your mixture such things as should draw near to their savours. Your majesty must know, it is no less hard to paint savours then virtues, colours can neither speak nor think. Where do you first begin, when you draw any picture? The proportion of the face in just compass, as I can. I would begin with the eye, as a light to all the rest. If you will paint, as you are a king, your Majesty, may begin where you please, but as you would be a painter, you must begin with the face.
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: T18 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Parmenio, and Clitus, I would haue you both redy to goe into Persia about an ambassage no lesse profitable to me, then to your selues honourable. We are ready at all commaundes, wishing nothing els, but continually to be commaunded. Well, then withdraw your selues, till I haue further considered of this matter. Now we will see how Apelles goeth forward: I doubt me that nature hath ouercom arte, and her countenāce his cunning. You loue, and therefore think any thing. But not so farre in loue with Campaspe, as with Bcephalus, if occasion serue either of conflicte or of conquest. Occasion cannot want, if wil doe not. Behold all Persia swelling in the pride of their owne power, the Scithians carelesse what courage or fortune canne doe: the Egyptians dreaminge in the southsayinges of theyr Augures, and gaping ouer the sinoak of their beastes intralles. All these Alexander are to bee subdued, if that world be not slipped out of your head, which you haue sworne to conquer with that hand. I confesse the labours fit for Alexander, and yet recreation necessary among so manye assaultes, bloudie woundes, intollerable troubles: giue mee leaue a litle, if not to sitte, yet to breath. And doubt not but Alexander can when he wil throw affections as farre from him, as he can cowardise. But behold Diogenes talking with one at his tub. One pennie Diogenes, I am a Cynick. He made thee a begger, that first gaue thee any thing. Why, if thou wilte giue nothinge, no bodye wil giue thee. I want nothing, till the springs dry, & the earth perish. I gather for the Gods. And I care not for those gods, which want money. Thou art a right Cynicke, that wyll gyue nothing. Thou art not, that wil beg anything. Alexander, kinge Alexander, giue a poore Cynick a groat. It is not for a king to giue a groat. Then giue me a talent. It is not for a begger to aske a talent. Awaye. Apelles? Here. Now Gentlewomanne, doth not your bewtie put the painter to his trump? Yes my lord, seeing so disordered a countenāce, he feareth he shall, shadow a deformed counterfeit. Would he could colour the life with the feature. And me thinketh Apelles, were you as cunning as report saith you are, you may paint flowers aswell with sweete sinels, as fresh colours, obseruing in your mixture suche things as should draw neere to their sauours. Your maiestie must know, it is no lesse harde to paint sauours then vertues, colours can neither speake nor think. Where do you first begin, when you draw anye picture? The proportion of the face in iust compasse, as I can. I would begin with the eie, as a light to all the rest. If you wil paint, as you are a king, your Maiesty, maye beginne wher you please, but as you wold be a painter, you must begin with the face.