The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 22 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 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
SInce thus (victorious King) your Peers, allies, Your Lords, and all your powers be ready priest, For good, for bad, for whatsoe'er shall hap, To spend both limb and life in your defence: Cast of all doubts, and rest yourself on Mars: A hopeless fear forbids a happy Fate. In sooth (good Cador) so our Fortune fares, As needs we must return to wonted force. To wars we must: but such unhappy wars, As yield no hope for right or wrong to scape. myself foreseés the Fate, it cannot fall Without our dearest blood: much may the mind Of pensive Sire presage, whose Son so sins. All truth, all trust, all blood, all bands be broke, The seeds are sown that spring to future spoil, My Son, my Nephew, yea each side myself, Nearer than all (woe's me) too near, my foe. Well: 'tis my plague for life so lewdly led, The price of guilt is still a heavier guilt. For were it light, that e'en by birth myself Was bad, I made my sister bad: nay were That also light, I have begot as bad. Yea worse, an heir assigned to all our sins. Such was his birth: what base, what vulgar vice Could once be looked for of so noble blood? The deéper guilt descends, the more it roots: The younger imps affect the huger crimes. When many men assent to civil wars, And yielded a suffrage to enforce the Fates: No man bethinks him of his own mishap, But turns that luck unto another's share. Whereas if fear did first forewarn each foil, Such love to fight would breed no Britain's bane. And better were still to preserve our peace, Then thus to vent for peace through waging wars. What folly to forego such certain haps, And in their steed to feed uncertain hopes? Such hopes as oft have puffed up many a Realm, Till cross success hath priest it down as deep: Whiles blind affection fetched from private cause Misguiding wit hath masked in wisdom's vail, Pretending what in purpose it abhorred. Peace hath three foes encamped in our breasts, Ambition, Wrath, and Envy: which subdued, We should not fail to find eternal peace. 'tis in our power to joy it all at will, And few there be, but if they will, they may: But yet even those, who like the name of peace, Through fond desire repine at peace itself. Between the hope whereof, and it itself, A thousand things may fall: that further wars. The very speech sometimes and treats of truce, Is slashed and cut asunder with the sword. Norfield the name of peace doth edge our minds, And sharpeneth on our fury till we fight: So that the mention made of love and rest Is oft a whetstone to our hate and rage.
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)
SInce thus (victorious King) your Peéres, allies, Your Lords, and all your powres be ready prest, For good, for bad, for whatsoe'r shall hap, To spend both limme and life in your defence: Cast of all doubts, and rest your selfe on Mars: A hopelesse feare forbids a happy Fate. In sooth (good Cador) so our Fortune fares, As neédes we must returne to woonted force. To warres we must: but such vnhappy warres, As yeéld no hope for right or wrong to scape. My selfe foreseés the Fate, it cannot fall Without our dearest blood: much may the minde Of pensiue Sire presage, whose Sonne so sinnes. All truth, all trust, all blood, all bands be broke, The seédes are sowne that spring to future spoyle, My Sonne, my Nephew, yea each side my selfe, Nerer then all (woe's me) too nere, my foe. Well: t'is my plague for life so lewdly ledde, The price of guilt is still a heauier guilt. For were it light, that eu'n by birth my selfe Was bad, I made my sister bad: nay were That also light, I haue begot as bad. Yea worse, an heire assignde to all our sinnes. Such was his birth: what base, what vulgar vice Could once be lookt for of so noble blood? The deéper guilt descends, the more it rootes: The younger imps affect the huger crimes. When many men assent to ciuill warres, And yeélde a suffradge to inforce the Fates: No man bethinkes him of his owne mishappe, But turnes that lucke vnto an other's share. Whereas if feare did first forewarne ech foyle, Such loue to fight would breéd no Brytains bane. And better were still to preserue our peace, Then thus to vent for peace through waging warres. What follie to forgoe such certayne happes, And in their steede to feede vncertayne hopes? Such hopes as oft haue puft vp many a Realme, Till crosse successe hath prest it downe as deépe: Whiles blind affection fetcht from priuate cause Misguiding wit hath maskt in wisedom's vaile, Pretending what in purpose it abhorr'd. Peace hath threé foes incamped in our breasts, Ambition, Wrath, and Enuie: which subdude, We should not faile to finde eternall peace. T'is in our powre to ioy it all at will, And fewe there be, but if they will, they may: But yet euen those, who like the name of peace, Through fond desire repine at peace it selfe. Betweéne the hope whereof, and it it selfe, A thousand things may fall: that further warres. The very speéch sometimes and treats of truce, Is slasht and cut a sunder with the sword. Norsield the name of peace doth edge our mindes, And sharpeneth on our furie till we fight: So that the mention made of loue and rest Is oft a whetstone to our hate and rage.