Lyly, John · published 1597 · first performed or written 1593 [1590-1595] (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (first) · before the Court unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
Our Poet slumbering in the muse's laps, Hath seen a Woman seated in the Moon, A point beyond the ancient Theoric: And as it was so he presents his dream. Here in the bounds of fair Utopia, Where lovely Nature being only Queen, Bestows such workmanship on earthly mould: That Heavens themselves envy her glorious work. But all in vain: for (malice being spent) They yield themselves to follow Nature's doom, And fair Pandora sits in Cynthia's orb. This but the shadow of our author's dream, Argues the substance to be near at hand: At whose appearance I most humbly crave, That in your forehead she may read content. If many faults escape in her discourse, Remember all is but a poet's dream, The first he had in Phoebus holy bower, But not the last, unless the first displease. NAture descends from far above the spheres, To frolic here in fair Utopia, Where my chief works do flourish in their prime, And wanton in their first simplicity. Here I survey the pictured firmament, With hurtless flames in concave of the Moon, The liquid substance of the welkin's waste: Where moistures treasury is clouded up, The mutual jointure of all swelling seas, And all the creatures which their waves contain, Lastly the rundle of this Massive earth, From utmost face unto the centre's point, All these, and all their endless circumstance, Here I survey, and glory in myself. But what means Discord so to knit the brows, With sorrows cloud eclipsing our delights? It grieves my heart, that still in every work, My fellow Concord frustrates my desire, When I to perfect up some wondrous deed, Do bring forth good and bad, or light and dark, Pleasant and sad, moving and fixed things, Frail and immortal, or like contraries: She with her hand unites them all in one, And so makes void the end of mine attempt. I tell thee Discord while you twain attend On Nature's train, your work must prove but one, And in yourselves though you be different, Yet in my service must you well agree. For Nature works her will from contraries, But see where our Utopian Shepherds come. Thou Sovereign Queen and Author of the world, Of all that was, or is, or shall be framed. To finish up the heap of thy great gifts, Vouchsafe thy simple servants one request. Stand up, and tell the sum of your desire, The boon were great that Nature would not grant: It ever was and shall be still my joy, With wholesome gifts to bless my workmanship. We crave fair goddess at thy heavenly hands, To have as every other creature hath, A sure and certain means among ourselves, To propagate the issue of our kind: As it were comfort to our sole estate, So were it ease unto thy working hand. Each Fish that swimmeth in the floating sea, Each winged fowl that soareth in the air, And every beast that feedeth on the ground, Have mates of pleasure to uphold their brood: But thy Utopians, poor and simple men, As yet bewail their want of female sex.
seed 43: T49 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
OVr Poet slumbring in the Muses laps, Hath seene a Woman seated in the Moone, A point beyond the auncient Theorique: And as it was so he presents his dreame. Here in the bounds of fayre Vtopia, Where louely Nature being onely Queene, Bestowes such workmanship on earthly mould: That Heauens themselues enuy her glorious worke. But all in vaine: for (malice being spent) They yeeld themselues to follow Natures doome, And fayre Pandora sits in Cynthias orbe. This but the shadow of our Authors dreame, Argues the substance to be neere at hand: At whose appearance I most humbly craue, That in your forehead she may read content. If many faults escape in her discourse, Remember all is but a Poets dreame, The first he had in Phoebus holy bowre, But not the last, vnlesse the first displease. NAture descends from farre aboue the spheeres, To frolicke heere in fayre Vtopia, VVheremy chiefe workes do florish in their prime, And wanton in their first simplicitie. Heere I suruey the pictured firmament, VVith hurtlesse flames in concaue of the Moone, The liquid substance of the welkins waste: VVhere moystures treasurie is clouded vp, The mutuall Ioynter of all swelling seas, And all the creatures which their waues conteine, Lastly the rundle of this Massiue earth, From vtmost face vnto the Centers point, All these, and all their endlesse circumstance, Heere I suruey, and glory in my selfe. But what meanes Discord so to knit the browes, VVith sorrowes clowde ecclipsing our delights? It grieues my hart, that still in euery worke, My fellow Concorde frustrates my desire, VVhen I to perfect vp some wondrous deed, Do bring forth good and bad, or light and darke, Pleasant and sad, moouing and fixed things, Fraile and immortall, or like contraries: She with her hand vnites them all in one, And so makes voide the end of mine attempt. I tell thee Discord while you twaine attend On Natures traine, your worke must prooue but one, And in your selues though you be different, Yet in my seruice must you well agree. For Nature workes her will from contraries, But see where our Utopian Shepheards come. Thou Soueraigne Queene and Author of the world, Of all that was, or is, or shall be framde. To finish vp the heape of thy great gifts, Vouchsafe thy simple seruants one request. Stand vp, and tell the sum of your desire, The boone were great that Nature would not graunt: It euer was and shall be still my ioy, VVith wholesome gifts to blesse my workemanship. VVe craue fayre goddesse at thy heauenly hands, To haue as euery other creature hath, A sure and certaine meanes among our selues, To propagate the issue of our kinde: As it were comfort to our sole estate, So were it ease vnto thy working hand. Each Fish that swimmeth in the floating sea, Each winged fowle that soareth in the ayre, And euery beast that feedeth on the ground, Haue mates of pleasure to vpholde their broode: But thy Utopians, poore and simple men, As yet bewaile their want of female sex.