Tancred and Gismund (Gismond of Salerne) · chunk 21 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 T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
But he in virtue that his Lady serves Newils but what unto her Honour longs, He never from the rule of reason swerves, He feeleth not the pangs, ne raging throngs Of blind Cupid: he lives not in despair As done his servants: neither spends his days In joy, and care, vain hope, and throbbing fear. But seeks always what may his sovereign please In honour: he that thus serves, reaps the fruit Of his sweet service: and no jealous dread Nor base suspect of aught to let his suit (Which causeth oft the lovers heart to bleed) Doth fret his mind, or burneth in his breast: He waileth not by day, nor wakes by night, When every other living thing doth rest. Nor finds his life or death within her sight. Remember thou in virtue serve therefore Thy chaste Lady: beware thou do not love As whilom Venus did the fair Adonne, But as Diana loved the Amazons son. Through whose request the gods to him alone Restored new life: the twine that was undone Was by the sisters twisted up again. The love of virtue in thy lady's looks, The love of virtue in her learned talk, This love yields matter for eternal books. This love enticeth him abroad to walk, There to invent and write new rondelays Of learned conceit, her fancies to allure To vain delights, such humours he allays, And sings of virtue and her garments pure. Desire not of thy Sovereign the thing Whereof shame may ensue by any mean: Nor wish thou aught that may dishonour bring. So whilom did the learned Tuscan serve His fair Lady: and glory was their end. Such are the praises Lovers done deserve, Whose service doth to virtue and honour tend. OH cruel fate, oh miserable chance Oh dire aspect of hateful destinies, Oh woe may not be told: sufficed it not That I should see and with these eyes behold So foul, so bloody, and so base a deed: But more to aggravate the heavy cares Of my perplexed mind, must only I Must I alone be made the messenger, That must deliver to her Princely ears Such dismal news? as when I shall disclose I know it cannot but abridge her days. As when the thunderer and three forked fire Rent through the clouds by Ioues almighty power Breaks up the bosom of our mother earth, And burns her heart before the heat be felt. In this distress whom should I most bewail, My woe, that must be made the messenger Of these unworthy and unwelcome news? Or shall I moan thy death, O noble Earl? Or shall I still lament the heavy hap That yet, O Queen, attends thy funeral. What moans be these? Renuchio is this Salerne I see? Doth hear king Tancred hold the awful crown? Is this the place where civil people be? Or do the savage Scythians here abound?
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)
But he in vertue that his Lady serues Newils but what vnto her Honor longs, Heneuer from the rule of reason swarues, He feeleth not the pangs, ne raging throngs Of blind Cupid: he liues not in despaire As done his seruants: neither spends his daies In ioy, and care, vaine hope, and throbbing feare. But seekes alway what may his soueraine please In honor: he that thus serues, reapes the fruite Of his sweet seruice: and no ielous dread Nor base suspect of ought to let his sute (Which causeth oft the louers hart to bleed) Doth fret his mind, or burneth in his brest: He wayleth not by day, nor wakes by night, When euery other liuing thing doth rest. Nor findes his life or death within her sight. Remember thou in vertue serue therfore Thy chast Lady: beware thou do not loue As whilom Venus did the faire Adonne, But as Diana lou'd the Amazons sonne. Through whose request the gods to him alone Restorde new life: the twine that was vndone Was by the sisters twisted vp againe. The loue of vertue in thy Ladies lookes, The loue of vertue in her learned talke, This loue yeelds matter for eternall bookes. This loue intiseth him abroad to walke, There to inuent and write new rondelaies Of learned conceit, her fancies to allure To vaine delights, such humors he allaies, And sings of vertue and her garments pure. Desire not of thy Soueraigne the thing Whereof shame may ensue by any meane: Nor wish thou ought that may dishonor bring. So whilom did the learned Tuscan serue His faire Lady: and glory was their end. Such are the praises Louers done deserue, Whose seruice doth to vertue and honor tend. OH cruel fate, oh miserable chaunce Oh dire aspect of hateful destinies, Oh wo may not be told: suffic'd it not That I should see and with these eyes behold So foule, so bloody, and so basea deede: But more to aggrauate the heauie cares Of my perplexed mind, must onelie I Must I alone be made the messenger, That must deliuer to her Princelie eares Such dismall newes? as when I shal disclose I know it cannot but abridge her daies. As when the thunderer and three forked fire Rent through the cloudes by Ioues almighty power Breakes vp the bosom of our mother earth, And burnes her heart before the heat be felt. In this distresse whom should I most bewaile, My woe, that must be made the messenger Of these vnworthie and vnwelcome newes? Or shall I mone thy death, O noble Earle? Or shal I still lament the heauie hap That yet, O Queene, attends thy funeral. What mones be these? Renuchio is this Salerne I see? Doth here king Tancred hold the awful cronw? Is this the place where ciuill people be? Or do the sauage Scythians here abound?