Jonson, Ben · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Children of the Chapel (second) · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 543 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
What sight is this? Maecenas, Horace, say; Have we our senses? Do we hear? and see? Or, are these but Imaginary objects Drawn by our Fantasy? Why, speak you not? Let us do Sacrifice? Are they the Gods? Reverence: Amaze: and Fury fight in me. What? Do they kneel? Nay, than I see 'tis true I thought impossible: o impious sight! Let me divert mine eyes; the very thought Everts my Soul, with Passion: Look not man.. There is a Panther, whose unnatural eyes Will strike thee dead: turn then; and die on her With her own death. Horace. What means imperial Caesar? What, would you have me let the Strumpet live, That, for this pageant, earns so many deaths? Boy, slink Boy. Pray Iupiter, we be not followed by the sent, Master. Say, Sir, what are you? I play Vulcan, Sir. But, what are you, Sir? Your Citizen, and jeweller, Sir. And what are you, Dame? I play Venus, forsooth. I ask not, what you play? but, what you are? Your Citizen, and jewellers wife, Sir: And you, good Sir? Your Gentleman, parcel- Poet, Sir. O, that profaned Name! And are these seemly company for thee, Degenerate Monster? all the rest I know; And hate all knowledge, for their hateful sakes. Are you, that first the Deities inspired With skill of their high Natures, and their Powers, The first Abusers of their useful light; Profaning thus their Dignities, in their forms; And making them like you, but counterfeits? O, who shall follow Virtue, and embrace her, When her false bosom is found nought but Air? And yet, of those embraces, centaurs spring, That war with human Peace, and poison Men. Who shall, with greater comforts, comprehend Her unseen being, and her excellence; When you, that teach, and should eternize her, Live, as she were no Law unto your lives: Nor lived herself, but with your idle breaths? If you think Gods but feigned, and Virtue painted, Know, we sustain an actual residence; And, with the Title of an Emperor, Retain his spirit, and imperial power: By which (in imposition too remiss, Licentious Naso, for thy violent wrong, In soothing the declined Affections Of my base Daughter,) I exile thy feet From all approach, to our imperial Court, On pain of death: and thy misgotten Love Commit to patronage of Iron doors; Since her soft-harted Sire cannot contain her. O, good my Lord; forgive: be like the Gods: Let royal Bounty (Caesar) mediate. There is no Bounty to be showed to such, As have no real goodness: Bounty is A spice of Virtue: and what virtuous Act Can take effect on them, that have no power Of equal habitude to apprehend it; But live in worship of that Idol Vice. As if there were no Virtue, but in shade Of strong imagination, merely enforced? This shows, their Knowledge is mere Ignorance; Their far fetched Dignity of soul, a Fancy; And all their square pretext of Gravity A mere vain Glory: hence: away with 'hem. I will prefer for knowledge, none, but such As rule their lives by it, and can becalm All Sea of Humour, with the marble trident Of their strong spirits: Others fight below With Gnats, and shadows; Others nothing know.
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)
What ſight is this? Mecoenas, Horace, ſay; Haue we our ſenſes? Doe we heare? and ſee? Or, are theſe but Imaginary obiects Drawne by our Phantaſie? Why, ſpeake you not? Let vs doe Sacrifice? Are they the Gods? Reuerence: Amaze: and Fury fight in me. What? Doe they kneele? Nay, then I ſee tis true I thought impoſſible: ô impious ſight! Let me diuert mine eyes; the very thought Euerts my Soule, with Paſſion: Looke not Man. There is a Panther, whoſe vnnaturall eyes Will ſtrike thee dead: turne then; and dye on her With her owne death. Horace. What meanes imperiall Caeſar? What, would you haue me let the Strumpet liue, That, for this Pageaunt, earnes ſo many deathes? Boy, ſlinke Boy. 'Pray Iupiter, we be not follow'd by the ſent, Maſter. Say, Sir, what are you? I play Vulcan, Sir. But, what are you, Sir? Your Citizen, and Ieweller, Sir. And what are you, Dame? I play Venus, forſooth. I aske not, what you play? but, what you are? Your Citizen, and Iewellers wife, Sir: And you, good Sir? Your Geutleman, parcell-Poet, Sir. O, that prophaned Name! And are theſe ſeemely company for thee, Degenerate Monſter? all the reſt I know; And hate all knowledge, for their hatefull ſakes. Are you, that firſt the Deities inſpir'd With skill of their high Natures, and their Powers, The firſt Abuſers of their vſe-full light; Prophaning thus their Dignities, in their formes; And making them like you, but counterfeites? O, who ſhall follow Vertue, and embrace her, When her falſe boſome is found nought but Aire? And yet, of thoſe embraces, Centaures ſpring, That warre with humane Peace, and poyſon Men. Who ſhall, with greater comforts, comprehend Her vnſeene being, and her excellence; When you, that teach, and ſhould eternize her, Liue, as ſhe were no Law vnto your liues: Nor liu'd her ſelfe, but with your idle breathes? If you thinke Gods but fain'd, and Vertue painted, Know, we ſuſtaine an actuall reſidence; And, with the Title of an Emperour, Retaine his ſpirit, and imperiall power: By which (in impoſition too remiſſe, Licentious Naſo, for thy violent wronge, In ſoothing the declin'd Affections Of my baſe Daughter,) I exile thy feete From all approach, to our imperiall Court, On paine of death: and thy miſgotten Loue Commit to patronage of Iron doores; Since her ſoft-harted Sire cannot containe her. O, good my Lord; forgiue: be like the Gods: Let royall Bounty (Caeſar) mediate. There is no Bounty to be ſhewed to ſuch, As haue no reall goodnes: Bountie is A ſpice of Vertue: and what vertuous Act Can take effect on them, that haue no power Of equall habitude to apprehend it; But liue in worſhip of that Idole Vice. As if there were no Vertue, but in ſhade Of ſtronge imagination, meerely enforc't? This ſhewes, their Knowledge is meere Ignorance; Their farre fetcht Dignity of ſoule, a Fancy; And all their ſquare pretext of Grauity A meere vaine Glory: hence: away with 'hem. I will preferre for knowledge, none, but ſuch As rule their liues by it, and can becalme All Sea of Humour, with the marble trident Of their ſtrong ſpirits: Others fight below With Gnats, and ſhadowes; Others nothing know.