Herbert, Mary Sidney / Garnier, RobertSidney Herbert, Mary · published 1595 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
well ought I curse within my grieved soul, Lamenting day and night, this senseless love, Whereby my fair enticing foe entrapped My heedless Reason, could no more escape. It was not fortunes ever changing face: It was not destiny's changeless Violence Forged my mishap. Alas! who doth not know They make, nor mar, nor any thing can do. Fortune, which men so fear, adore, detest, Is but a chance whose cause unknown doth rest. Although oft times the cause is well perceived, But not th'effect the same that was conceived. Pleasure, nought else, the plague of this our life, Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue, Alone hath me this strange disaster spun, fallen from a soldier to a chamberer, Careless of virtue, careless of all praise. Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire With glutted heart I wallowed in delights, All thoughts of honour trodden under foot. So I me lost: for finding this sweet cup Pleasing my taste, unwise I drunk my fill, And through the sweetness of that poison's power By steps I drove my former wits astray. I made my friends, offended me forsake, I holp my foes against myself to rise. I robbed my subjects, and for followers I saw myself be set with flatterers. Mine idle arms fair wrought with spider's work, My scattered men without their ensigns strayed: Caesar meanwhile who never would have dared To cope with me, me suddenly despised, Took heart to fight, and hoped for victory On one so gone, who glory had foregone. enchanting pleasure Venus sweet delights Weaken our bodies, overcloud our sprights, Trouble our reason, from our hearts out chase All holy virtues lodging in their place: Like as the cunning fisher takes the fish By traitor bait whereby the hooks is hid: So Pleasure serves to vice in steed of food To bait our souls thereon too liquorish. This poison deadly is alike to all, But on great kings doth greatest outrage work, Taking the royal sceptres from their hands, Thence forward to be by some stranger borne: While that their people charged with heavy loads Their flatterers pill, and suck their marry dry, Not ruled but left to great men as a prey, While this fond Prince himself in pleasures drowns Who hears nought, sees nought, doth nought of a king Seeming himself against himself conspire. Then equal justice wandereth banished, And in her seat sits greedy Tyranny. Confused disorder troubleth all estates, Crimes without fear and outrages are done. Then mutinous Rebellion shows her face, Now hid with this, and now with that pretence, Provoking enemies, which on each side Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all. The hurtful works of pleasure here behold, The wolf is not so hurtful to the fold, Frost to the grapes, to ripened fruits the rain: As pleasure is to princes full of pain.
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)
well ought I curse within my grieued soule, Lamenting daie and night, this sencelesse loue, Whereby my faire entising foe entrap'd My hedelesse Reason, could no more escape. It was not fortunes euer chaunging face: It was not Dest nies chaungles Violence Forg'd my mishap. Alas! who doth not know They make, nor marre, nor any thing can doe. Fortune, which men so feare, adore, detest, Is but a chaunce whose cause vnknow'n doth rest. Although oft times the cause is well perceiu'd, But not th'effect the same that was conceiu'd. Pleasure, nought else, the plague of this our life, Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue, Alone hath me this strange disastre spunne, Falne from a souldior to a chamberer, Careles of vertue, careles of all praise. Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire With glutted heart I wallowed in delights, All thoughts of honor troden vnder foote. So I me lost: for finding this sweet cupp Pleasing my tast, vnwife I drunke my fill, And through the sweetnes of that poisons power By steps I draue my former wits astraie. I made my frends, offended me forsake, I holpe my foes against my selfe to rise. I robd my subiects, and for followers I saw my selfe be set with flatterers. Mine idle armes faire wrought with spiders worke, My scattred men without their ensignes strai'd: Caesar meane while who neuer would haue dar'de To cope with me, me sodainely despis'de, Tooke hart to fight, and hop'de for victorie On one so gone, who glorie had forgone. Enchaunting pleasure Venus sweete delights Weaken our bodies, ouer-cloud our sprights, Trouble our reason, from our hearts out chase All holie vertues lodging in thir place: Like as the cunnig fisher takes the fishe By traitor baite whereby the hooks is hid: So Pleasure serues to vice in steede of foode To baite our soules thereon too liquorishe. This poison deadly is alike to all, But on great kings doth greatest outrage worke, Taking the roiall scepters from their hands, Thence forward to be by some stranger borne: While that their people charg'd with heauie loades Their flatt'rers pill, and suck their mary drie, Not rul'd but left to great men as a pray, While this fonde Prince himselfe in pleasur's drowns Who hears nought, sees noght, doth nought of a king Seming himselfe against himselfe conspirde. Then equall Iustice wandreth banished, And in her seat sitts greedie Tyrannie. Confus'd disorder troubleth all estates, Crimes without feare and outrages are done. Then mutinous Rebellion shewes her face, Now hid with this, and now with that pretence, Prouoking enimies, which on each side Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all. The hurtfull workes of pleasure here behold, The wolfe is not so hurtfull to the folde, Frost to the grapes, to ripened frutes the raine: As pleasure is to princes full of paine.