The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 16 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
The time (puissant Prince) permits not now To moan our wrongs, or search each several sore. Since Arthur thus hath ransacked all abroad, What marvel is't, if Mordred rave at home? When far and near your wars had worn the world, What wars were left for him, but civil wars, All which requires revenge with sword and fire, And to pursue your foes with presence force. In just attempts Mars gives a rightful doom. Nay rather (Cador) let them run their race, And leave the heavens revengers of my wrong. Since Britain's prosperous state is thus debased In servile sort to Mordred'S cursed pride, Let me be thrall, and lead a private life: None can refuse the yoke his Country bears. But as for wars, insooth my flesh abhors, To bid the battle to my proper blood. Great is the love, which nature doth enforce From kin to kin, but most from sire to son. The noble neck disdains the servile yoke, Where rule hath pleased, subjection seemeth strange. A King ought always to prefer his Realm, Before the love he bears to kin or son. Your Realm destroyed is near restored again, But time may send you kine and sons enough. How hard it is to rule th'aspiring mind, And what a kingly point it seems to those, Whose Lordly hands the stately Sceptre sways, Still to pursue the drift they first decreed: My wonted mind and kingdom lets me know. Think not, but if you drive this hazard on, He desperate will resolve to win or die: Whereof who knows which were the greater guilt, The sire to slay the son, or son the sire. If bloody Mars do so extremely sway, That either son or sire must needs be slain, Give Law the choice: let him die that deserves. Each impotent affection notes a want. No worse a vice than lenity in Kings, Remiss indulgence soon undoes a Realm. He teacheth how to sin, that winks at sins, And bids offend, that suffereth an offence. The only hope of leave increaseth crimes, And he that pardoneth one, emboldeneth all To break the Laws. Each patience fostereth wrongs. But vice severely punished faints at foot, And creeps no further off, then where it falls. One sour example will prevent more vice, Than all the best persuasions in the world. Rough rigour looks out right, and still prevails: Smooth mildness looks too many ways to thrive. Wherefore since Mordred'S crimes have wronged the Laws In so extreme a sort, as is too strange: Let right and justice rule with rigours aid, And work his wrack at length, although too late: That damning Laws, so damned by the Laws, He may receive his deep deserved doom. So let it fare with all, that dare the like: Let sword, let fire, let torments be their end. Severity upholds both Realm and rule.
seed 43: T57 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The time (puissant Prince) permits not now To moane our wrongs, or search each seuerall sore. Since Arthur thus hath ransackt all abroade, What meruaile ist, if Mordred raue at home? When farre and neere your warres had worne the world, What warres were left for him, but ciuill warres, All which requires reuenge with sword and fire, And to pursue your foes with presence force. In iust attempts Mars giues a rightfull doome. Nay rather (Cador) let them runne their race, And leaue the Heauens reuengers of my wrong. Since Brytaines prosperous state is thus debasde In seruile sort to Mordreds cursed pride, Let me be thrall, and leade a priuate life: None can refuse the yoake his Countrie beares. But as for warres, insooth my flesh abhorres, To bid the battayle to my proper bloud. Great is the loue, which nature doth inforce From kin to kin, but most from sire to sonne. The noble necke disdaines the seruile yoke, Where rule hath pleasde, subiection seemeth strange. A King ought alwaies to preferre his Realme, Before the loue he beares to kin or sonne. Your Realme destroide is neere restord againe, But time may send you kine and sonnes inough. How hard it is to rule th'aspiring minde, And what a kingly point it seemes to those, Whose Lordlie hands the stately Scepter swaies, Still to pursue the drift they first decreed: My wonted minde and kingdome lets me know. Thinke not, but if you driue this hazard on, He desperate will resolue to winne or die: Whereof who knowes which were the greater guilt, The sire to slaie the sonne, or sonne the sire. If bloudie Mars doe so extreamly swaie, That either sonne or sire must needs be slaine, Geue Lawe the choice: let him die that deserues. Each impotent affection notes a want. No worse a vice then lenitie in Kings, Remisse indulgence soone vndoes a Realme. He teacheth how to sinne, that winkes at sinnes, And bids offend, that suffereth an offence. The onely hope of leaue increaseth crimes, And he that pardoneth one, emboldneth all To breake the Lawes. Each patience fostereth wrongs. But vice seuerely punisht faints at foote, And creepes no further off, then where it falls. One sower example will preuent more vice, Than all the best perswasions in the world. Rough rigour lookes out right, and still preuailes: Smooth mildnesse lookes too many waies to thriue. Wherefore since Mordreds crimes haue wrongd the Lawes In so extreame a sort, as is too strange: Let right and iustice rule with rigours aide, And worke his wracke at length, although too late: That damning Lawes, so damned by the Lawes, Hee may receiue his deepe deserued doome. So let it fare with all, that dare the like: Let sword, let fire, let torments be their end. Seueritie vpholds both Realme and rule.