Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Nov 9-30, payment] (Annals) romance · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.88 · 467 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
She that hath conquers thee; how dar'st thou come, Thus tricked in gaudy Feathers, and thus guarded, Which crowned kings and Muses, when thy foe Hath trod thus on thee, and now triumphs so? Where's virtuous Ampedo? See, he's her slave, For following thee this recompense they have. Is Ampedo her stane? Why that's my glory. The idiot's cap I once wore on my head, Did figure him, those that (like him) do muffle Virtue in clouds, and care not how she shine, I'll make their glory like to his decline: He made no use of me, but like a miser, Locked up his wealth in rusty bars of sloth: His face was beautiful, but wore a mask, And in the world's eyes seemed a Blackamoor. So perish they that so keep virtue poor. Thou art a fool to strive, I am more strong, And greater than thyself, than Virtue fly, And hide thy face, yield me the victory. Is Vice higher than Virtue: that's my glory, The higher that thou art, thou art more horrid, The world will love me for my comeliness. Thine own self loves thyself: why on the heads Of Agrippine, Montresse and Longavile, (English, Scot, French) did Vice clap ugly horns, But to approve that English, French and Scot, And all the world else, kneel and honour Vice, But in no Country, Virtue is of price? Yes, in all country's Virtue is of price. In every kingdom some diviner breast Is more enamoured of me then the rest. Have English, Scot, and French bowed knees to thee? Why that's my glory too, for by their shame, Men will abhor thee and adore my name. Fortune, thou art too weak, Vice thouart a fool, To fight with me, I suffered you awhile, T'eclipse my brightness, but I now will shine, And make you swear your beauty's base to mine. Thou art too insolent, see here's a court Of mortal judges, let's by them be tried, Which of us three shall most be deified. I am content. And I. So am not I. My judge shall be your sacred deity. O miserable me, I am undone. O stop the horrid monster. Let her run. Fortune, who conquers now? Virtue, I see, Thou wilt triumph both over her and me. Empress of heaven and earth. Why do you mock me? Kneel not to me, to her transfer your eyes, There sits the Queen of Chance, I bend my knees, Lower than yours: dread goddess, 'tis most meet, That Fortune fall down at thy conquering feet. Thou sacred Empress that commandest the Fates, Forgive what I have to thy handmaid done, And at thy Chariot wheels Fortune shall run, And be thy captive and to thee resign All powers which heavens large Patent have made mine.
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Shée that hath conquers thée; how dar'st thou come, Thus trickt in gawdy Feathers, and thus garded, Which crowned kings and Muses, when thy foe Hath trod thus on thee, and now triumphes so? Where's vertuous Ampedo? See, hées her slaue, For following thée this recompence they haue. Is Ampedo her stane? Why thats my glorie. The Idiots cap I once wore on my head, Did figure him, those that (like him) doe muffle Uertue in clouds, and care not how shée shine, Ile make their glorie like to his decline: He made no vse of me, but like a miser, Lockt vp his wealth in rustie barres of sloth: His face was beautifull, but wore a maske, And in the worlds eyes seemd a Blackamore. So perish they that so keepe vertue poore. Thou art a foole to striue, I am more strong, And greater then thy selfe, then Uertue flie, And hide thy face, yeeld me the victrie. Is Uice higher then Uertue: thats my glorie, The higher that thou art, thou art more horrid, The world will loue me for my comlynesse. Thine owne selfe loues thy selfe: why on the heads Of Agripyne, Montresse and Longauyle, (English, Scot, French) did Uice clap vgly hornes, But to approue that English, French and Scot, And all the world els, kneele and honour Uice, But in no Countrie, Uertue is of price? Yes, in all Countries Uertue is of price. In euery kingdome some diuiner brest Is more enamord of me then the rest. Haue English, Scot, and French bowd knees to thee? Why thats my glorie too, for by their shame, Men will abhor thee and adore my name. Fortune, thou art too weake, Uice th'art a foole, To fight with me, I suffred you awhile, T'ecclips my brightnes, but I now will shine, And make you sweare your beautie's base to mine. Thou art too insolent, see here's a court Of mortall Iudges, lets by them be tride, Which of vs three shall most be deifide. I am content. And I. So am not I. My Iudge shall be your sacred deitie. O miserable me, I am vndon. O stop the horrid monster. Let her runne. Fortune, who conquers now? Uertue, I see, Thou wilt triumph both ouer her and me. Empresse of heauen and earth. Why doe you mocke me? Kneele not to me, to her transfer your eyes, There sits the Queene of Chance, I bend my knees, Lower then yours: dread goddesse, tis most meete, That Fortune fall downe at thy conqu'ring feete. Thou sacred Empresse that commandst the Fates, Forgiue what I haue to thy handmaid don, And at thy Chariot wheeles Fortune shall run, And be thy captiue and to thee resigne All powers which heau'ns large Patent haue made mine.