Arches of Triumph (The Royal Entry of King James I into London) · chunk 6 of 6
Dekker, Thomas / Jonson, Ben / Middleton, Thomas / Harrison, Stephen / Ruytinck, Simon / Cool, Jacob / Thorius, Raphael · published 1604 · first performed or written 1604 [Mar 15] (Annals) entertainment; royal entertainment or entry · before the Court T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.68 · 592 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
To banquet at his Altars; and installed, A Goddess with him, since she files the Year, And knits the oblique scarce that girds the sphere. Whilst four faced Ianus turns his vernal look Upon their meeting hours, as if he took High pride and pleasure. Sure thou still dost dream. And both thy tongue, and thought rides on the stream Of Fantasy: Behold here He nor She, Have any Altar, Fane, or deity. Stoop; read but this Inscription: and then view To whom the place is consecrate. 'tis true That this is Ianus Temple, and that now He turns upon the Year his freshest brow; That this is Mars his month; and these the Ides, Wherein his Anne was honoured; Both the Tides, Titles, and Place, we know: But these dead rites Are long since buried, and new power excites More high and hearty flames. Lo, there is he, Who brings with him a greater Anne than she: Whose strong and potent virtues have defaced Stern Mars his statues, and upon them placed His, and the world's blessed blessings: This hath brought Sweet Peace to sit in that bright state she ought Unbloody, or untroubled; hath forced hence All tumults, fears, or other dark portents, That might invade weak minds; hath made men see Once more the face of welcome Liberty: And doth (in all his present acts) restore That first pure world, made of the better Ore. Now Innocence shall cease to be the spoil Of ravenous Greatness, or to sleep the soil Of raised Peasantry with tears, and blood; No more shall rich men (for their little good) Sul to be made guiltie; or vile Spes Emoy the lust of their so murdering eyes: Men shall put off their Iron minds, and hearts; The Time forget his old malicious artes With this new minute; and no print remain Of what was thought the former age's stain. Back flamen, with thy superstitious fumes, And sense not here; Thy ignorance presumes Too much, in acting any Ethnic rite In this translated Temple: Here no wight, To sacrifice save my devotion comes, That brings instead of those thy Masculine gums. My City's heart, which shall for ever burn Upon this Altar, and no Time shall turn The same to ashes: Here I fix it fast, Flame bright, flame high, and may it ever last. Whilst I, before the figure of thy Peace, Still tend the fire; and give it quick increase With prayers, wishes, vows; whereof be these The least, and weakest: that no Age may lose The memory of this so rich a day; But rather, that it henceforth yearly may Begin our spring, and with our spring the prime, And first account of Years, of Months, of Time: And may these Ides as fortunate appear To thee, as they to Caesar fatal were. Be all thy Thoughts borne perfect, and thy Hopes In their events still crowned beyond their scopes. Let not wide Heaven that secret blessing know To give, which she on thee will not bestow: Blind Fortune be thy slave; and may her store (The less thou seest it) follow thee the more. Much more I would: but see, these brazen Gates Make haste to close, as urged by thy Fates; Here ends my City's office, here it breaks: Yet with my tongue, and this pure heart, she speaks A short farewell; and lower than thy feet, With fervent thanks, thy royal pains doth greet. Pardon, if my abruptness breed disease; He merits not t'offend, that hasts to please.
seed 43: T53 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
To banquet at his Altar; and instald, A Goddesse with him, since she files the Yeare, And knits the oblique scarse that gyrts the spheare. Whilest foure fac'd anus turnes his vernall looke Vpon their meeting howers, as if he tooke High pride and pleasure. Sure thou still dost dreame. And both thy tongue, and thought rides on the streae Of Phantasie: Behold here Hee nor Shee, Haue any Altar▪ Fane, or Diety. Stoope; read but this Inscription: and then view To whome the place is consecrate. Tis trew That this is Ianus Temple, and that now He turnes vpon the Year his freshest browe; That this is Mars his moneth; and these the Ides, Wherein his Anne was honored; Both the Tides, Titles, and Place, we knowe: But these dead rites Are long since buried, and new power excites More highe and hartie flames. Loe, there is he, Who brings with him a greater Anne then shee: Whose strong and potent vertues haue deac'd Sterne Mars his statues, and vpon them plac'd His, and the worlds blest blessings: This hath brought Sweete Peace to sit in that bright state she ought Vnbloudy, or vntroubled; hath forc'd hence All tumults, eares, or other darke portents, That might inade weake minds; hath made men see Once more the face of welcome Liberty: And doth (in all his present acts) restore That first pure world, made of the better Ore. Now Innocence shall cease to be the spoile Of rauenous Greatnesse, or to sleepe the soile Of raised Pesantrie with teares, and bloud; No more shall rich men (for their little good) Sul to be made guiltie; or vile Spes Emoy the lust of their so murdering eyes: Men shall put off their Yron minds, and hearts; The Ime forget his olde malicious artes this new minue; and no print remaine Of what was thought the former ages staine. Backe Flamin, with thy superstitious fumes, And snse not heere; Thy ignorance presumes Too much, in acting any Ethnick rite In this translated Temple: Heere no wight, To sacrifice saue my deuotion comes, That brings in steed of those thy Masculine gummes. My Cities heart, which shall for euer burne Vpon this Altar, and no Time shall turne The same to ashes: Heere I fixe it fast, Flame bright, flame high, and may it euer last. Whilest I, before the figure of thy Peace, Still tend the fire; and giue it quicke increase With prayers, wishes, vowes; whereof be these The least, and weakest: that no Age may leese The memory of this so rich a day; But rather, that it henceforth yearely may Begin our spring, and with our spring the prime, And first account of Yeares, of Months, of Time: And may these Ides as fortunate appeare To thee, as they to Caesar fatall were. Be all thy Thoughts borne perfect, and thy Hopes In their euents still crownd beyond their scopes. Let not wide Heauen that secret blessing know To giue, which she on thee will not bestow: Blind Fortune be thy slaue; and may her store (The lesse thou seest it) follow thee the more. Much more I would: but see, these brasen Gates Make hast to close, as vrged by thy Fates; Here ends my Cities office, here it breakes: Yet with my tongue, and this pure heart, she speakes A short farewell; and lower then thy feete, With feruent thankes, thy royall paines doth greete. Pardon, if my abruptnesse breed disease; He merits not t'offend, that hasts to please.