Tancred and Gismund (Gismond of Salerne) · chunk 5 of 29
Wilmot, Robert / Hatton, Christopher / Noel, HenryAl., G.Stafford, Roderick · published 1591 · first performed or written 1567 [1567-1568; revised 1591] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T27 Uncles, nephews and cousins: kinship and · 472 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T27: uncle, niece, nephew, gentlemen, faith, cousin, wife, house, gentleman, money.
Who lives below, and feeleth not the strokes, Which often times on highest towers do fall, Nor blustering winds, wherewith the strongest oaks Are rent and torn, his life is surest of all: For he may scorn Fortune, that hath no power On him, that is well pleased with his estate: He seeketh not her sweets, nor fears her sour, But lives contented in his quiet rate, And marking how these worldly things do wade, Rejoiceth to himself, and laughs to see The folly of men, that in their wits have made, Fortune a goddess, placed in the sky. Dear Aunt, my sole companion in distress, And true copartner of my thoughtful cares: When with myself, I weigh my present state, Comparing it with my forepast days, New heaps of cares, afresh begin t' assay My pensive heart: as when the glittering rays, Of bright Phoebus, are suddenly o'erspread, With dusky clouds, that dim his golden light, Namely, when I, laid in my widows bed, Amid the silence, of the quiet night, With curious thought, the fleeting course observe, Of gladsome youth: how soon his flower decay. How time once passed, may never have recourse, No more than may the running streams revert, To climb the hills, when they been rolled down The hollow vales, there is no curious art, Nor worldly power, no not the gods can hold The sway of flying time, nor him return When he is past: all things unto his might Must bend, and yield, unto the Iron teeth Of eating time: this in the shady night, When I record, how soon my youth withdraws itself away, how swift my pleasant spring Runs out his race, this this (Aunt) is the cause. When I advise me sadly on this thing, That makes my heart, in pensive dumps dismayed. For if I should, my springing years neglect. And suffer youth, fruitless to fade away: Whereto live I? or whereto was I borne? Wherefore hath nature decked me with her grace? Why have I tasted the delights of love? And felt the sweets of Hymeneus' bed? But to say sooth (dear Aunt) it is not I Sole and alone, can thus content to spend My cheerful years: my father will not still Prolong my mournings, which have grieved him, And pleased me too long. Then this I crave, To be resolved of his princely mind. For, stood it with the pleasure of his will To marry me, my fortune is not such, So hard, that I so long should still persist Makeless alone in woeful widowhood, And shall I tell mine Aunt? come hither then, Give me that hand, by thine own right hand, I charge thy heart my counsels to conceal. Late have I seen, and seeing, took delight, And with delight, I will not say, I love,
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)
Who liues below, and feeleth not the strokes, Which often times on highest towers do fall, Nor blustering winds, wherwith the strongest okes Are rent and torne, his life is surste of all: For he may scoe Fortune, that hath no power On him, that is well pleasd with his estate: He seeketh not her sweets, nor feares her sower, But liues contented in his quiet rate, And marking how these worldly things do wade, Reioyceth to himselfe, and laughs to see The folly of men, that in their wits haue made, Fortune a goddesse, placed in the skie. DEare Aunt, my sole companion in distresse, And true copartner of my thoughtfull cares: When with my selfe, I way my present state, Comparing it with my forepassed daies, New heapes of cares, afresh beginnet' assay My pensiue heart: as when the glittering raies, Of bright Phoebus, are sodainely ore-spred, With duskie clouds, that dim his golden light, Namely, when I, laid in my widowes bed, Amid the silence, of the quiet night, With curious thought, the fleeting course obserue, Of gladsome youth: how soone his flower decaies. How time once past, may neuer haue recourse, No more then may the running streames reuert, To climbe the hilles, when they bin rowled down The hollow vales, there is no curious art, Norworldlie power, no not the gods can hold The sway of flying time, nor him returne When he is past: all things vnto his might Must bend, and yeeld, vnto the Iron teeth Of eating time: this in the shedy night, When I record, how soone my youth withdrawes It selfe away, how swift my pleasaunt spring Runnes out his race, this this (Aunt) is the cause. When I aduise me sadlie on this thing, That makes my heart, in pensiue dumps dismaid. For if I should, my springing yeares neglect. And suffer youth, fruitles to fade away: Whereto liue I? or whereto was I borne? Wherefore hath nature deckt me with her grace? Why haue I tasted the delights of loue? And felt the sweets of Hymeneus bed? But to say sooth (deare Aunt) it is not I Sole and alone, can thus content to spend My chearefull yeares: my father will not still Prolong my mournings, which haue grieued him, And pleased me too long. Then this I craue, To be resolued of his princelie minde. For, stoode it with the pleasure of his will To marrie me, my fortune is not such, So hard, that I so long should still persist Makelesse alone in wofull widowhood, And shall I tell mine Aunt? come hether then, Geue me that hand, by thine owne right hand, I charge thy heart my councels to conceale. Late haue I seene, and seeing, tooke delight, And with delight, I will not say, I loue,