The Three Lords and Three Ladies of London · chunk 14 of 41
Wilson, Robert · published 1590 · first performed or written 1588 [1588-1590] (Annals) moral · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) T39 Profit, conscience and dishonest dealing typicality 0.76 · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T39: conscience, lucre, usury, lucar, fraud, dissimulation, simony, london, lady, nemo.
When Sorrow ceaseth, Shame shall then begin, With those that wallow senseless in their sin: But Ladies I have drawn you from my Den, To open air to mitigate some moan. Conscience, sit down upon that sweating stone, And let that Flint (love) serve thee for a seat, And Lady Lucre, on that stone rest you. And Ladies thus I leave you here alone, Mourn ye, but moan not, I shall absent be, Yet good it were sometime to think on me. Comfort it is to think on Sorrow past. Sorrow remains when joy is but a blast. A blast of wind is worlds felicity, A blasting wind and full of misery. O Conscience, thou hast most tormented me. Me hath thy worm O Conscience, stung too deep. But more myself my thoughts tormented have Than both of you in sorrows sullen cave. From whence drawn forth I find but little rest, A seat uneasy, wet, and scalding hot, On this hard stone hath sorrow me assigned, and on my seat myself I frozen find. No flint more hard, no ice more cold than this. I think my seat some mineral stone to be. I could from it, it draws heat from me. Lady's consent, and we our seats will view. Dare we for shame our stained faces show. My double face is single grown again. My spots are gone, my skin is smooth and plain. Doff we our veils and greet this gladsome light. The chaser of glome sorrows heavy might. Hail cheerful air and clearest crystal sky. Hail shining sun and fairest firmament, Comfort to those that time in woe have spent. Upon my weeping stone is set remorse in brazen letters. And on this Flint in lead is Charity. In golden letters on my stone is Care. Then Lucre fits upon the stone of care. And Conscience on the Marble of remorse, Love on the flint of frozen Charity, Ladies alas, what tattered souls are we? Sorrow our hearts, & time our clothes hath torn Then sit we down like silly souls forlorn, And hide our faces that we be not known, For sorrows plagues tormented me no more, Than will their fight that knew me heretofore. then will their sight that knew us heretofore Draw ruth and help from them for our relief: For our relief? for Conscience and for Love, No help, small ruth that our distress may move: O Conscience thou wouldst lead me to despair, But that I see the way to hope is fair, And Hope to heaven directs a ready way, And heaven to help is priest, to them that pray. That pray with faith, and with unfeigned remorse For true belief and tears make prayer of force: Then veil ourselves, and silent let us stay, till heavens shall please to send some friends this way:
seed 43: T41 · seed 44: T39 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
When Sorrow ceaseth, Shame shal then begin, With those that wallow sencelesse in their sin: But Ladies I haue drawen you from my Den, To open aire to mittigate some mone. Conscience, sit downe vpon that sweating stone, And let that Flint (loue) serue thee for a seate, And Ladie Lucre, on that stone rest you. And Ladies thus I leaue you here alone, Mourne ye, but moane not, I shal absent be, Yet good it were sometime to thinke on me. Comfort it is to thinke on Sorrow past. Sorrow remaines when ioy is but a blast. A blast of wind is worldes felicitie, A blasting wind and full of miserie. O Conscience, thou hast most tormented me. Me hath thy worm O Conscience, stong too déep. But more my selfe my thoughtes tormented haue Than both of you in sorrowes sullen caue. From whence drawen foorth I find but litle rest, A seat vneasie, wet, and scalding hot, On this hard stone hath sorrow me assignde, and on my seat my selfe I frozen fin. No flint more harde, no ye more cold then this. I think my seat some mineral stone to be. I cold from it, it drawes heat from me. Ladies consent, and we our seates will view. Dare we for shame our stained faces shew. My double face is single growen againe. My spots are gone, my skin is smooth and plain. Doffe we our veiles and greet this gladsom light. The haser of glome sorrowes heauie might. Haile cheerful aire and clearest christal skie. Haile shining sunne and fairest firmament, Comfort to those that time in woe haue spent. Vpon my weeping stone is set remorse in brazen letters. And on this Flint in lead is Charity. In golden letters on my stone is Care. Then Lucre fits vpon the stone of care. And Conscience on the Marble of remorse, Loue on the flint of frozen Charitie, Ladies alas, what tattered soules are we? Sorrow our hearts, & time our cloaths hath torn Then sit we down like silly soules forlorn, And hide our faces that we be not knowen, For Sorrowes plagues tormented me no more, Than wil their fight that knew me heretofore. then wil their sight that knew vs heretofore Draw ruth and help from them for our reliefe: For our reliefe? for Conscience and for Loue, No help, smal ruth that our distresse may mooue: O Conscience thou wouldst lead me to dispaire, But that I see the way to hope is faire, And Hope to heauen directs a readie way, And heauen to help is prest, to them that pray. That pray with faith, and with vnsain'd remors For true beleefe and teares make praier of force: Then eile our selues, and silent let vs stay, till heauens shall please to send some friends this way: