Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1603 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Some traitor hath put fire in: (you, go see.) And let the head be taken off, to look What 'tis— Some slave hath practised an imposture, To stir the people. How now? why return you? THe head, my lord, already is ta'en off, I saw it: and, at opening, there leapt out A great, and monstrous serpent! Monstrous! why? Had it a beard? and horns? no heart? a tongue Forked as flattery? looked it of the hue, To such as live in great men's bosoms? was The spirit of it MACRO'S? May it please The most divine Sejanus, in my days, (And by his sacred fortune, I affirm it) I have not seen a more extended, grown, Foul, spotted, venomous, ugly— O, the fates! What a wild muster's here of attributes, T'express a worm, a snake? But how that should Come there, my lord! What! and you too, Terentius? I think you mean to make 't a prodigy In your reporting? Can the wise Sejanus think heaven hath meant it less? O, superstition! Why, than the falling of our bed, that broke This morning, burdened with the populous weight Of our expecting clients, to salute us; Or running of the cat, betwixt our legs, As we set forth unto the capitol, Were prodigies. I think them ominous! And, would they had not happened. As, today, The fate of some your servants! who, declining Their way, not able, for the throng, to follow, Slipped down the Gemonies, and broke their necks! Besides, in taking your last augury, No prosperous bird appeared, but croaking ravens Flagged up and down: and from the sacrifice Flew to the prison, where they sat, all night, Beating the air with their obstreperous beaks! I dare not counsel, but I could entreat That great Sejanus would attempt the gods, Once more, with sacrifice. What excellent fools Religion makes of men? Believes Terentius, (If these were dangers, as I shame to think them) The gods could change the certain course of fate? Or, if they could, they would (now, in a moment) For a beeves fat, or less, be bribed t'invert Those long decrees? Then think the gods, like flies, Are to be taken with the steam of flesh, Or blood, diffused about their altars: think Their power as cheap, as I esteem it small. Of all the throng, that fill th'Olympian hall, And (without pity) lade poor Atlas' back, I know not that one deity, but Fortune; To whom, I would throw up, in begging smoke, One grain of incense: or whose ear I'd buy With thus much oil. Her, ay, indeed, adore; And keep her grateful image in my house, Sometimes belonging to a Roman king, But, now called mine, as by the better style: To her, I care not, if (for satisfying Your scrupulous fantasies) I go offer. Bid Our priest prepare us honey, milk, and poppy, His masculine odours, and night-vestments: say, Our rites are instant, which performed, you'll see How vain, and worthy laughter, your fears be.
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)
Some traytor hath put fire in: (you, goe see.) And let the head be taken off, to looke What 'tis— Some slaue hath practis'd an imposture, To stirre the people. How now? why returne you? THe head, my lord, already is tane off, I saw it: and, at op'ning, there leap't out A great, and monstrous serpent! Monstrous! why? Had it a beard? and hornes? no heart? a tongue Forked as flatterie? look'd it of the hue, To such as liue in great mens bosomes? was The spirit of it MACRO'S? May it please The most diuine SEIANVS, in my dayes, (And by his sacred fortune, I affirme it) I haue not seene a more extended, growne, Foule, spotted, venomous, vgly— O, the fates! What a wild muster's here of attributes, T'expresse a worme, a snake? But how that should Come there, my lord! What! and you too, TERENTIVS? I thinke you meane to make 't a prodigie In your reporting? Can the wise SEIANVS Thinke heau'n hath meant it lesse? O, superstition! Why, then the falling of our bed, that brake This morning, burd'ned with the populous weight Of our expecting clients, to salute vs; Or running of the cat, betwixt our legs, As we set forth vnto the capitoll, Were prodigies. I thinke them ominous! And, would they had not hap'ned. As, to day, The fate of some your seruants! who, declining Their way, not able, for the throng, to follow, Slip't downe the Gemonies, and brake their necks! Besides, in taking your last augurie, No prosperous bird appear'd, but croking rauens Flag'd vp and downe: and from the sacrifice Flew to the prison, where they sate, all night, Beating the aire with their obstreperous beakes! I dare not counsell, but I could entreat That great SEIANVS would attempt the gods, Once more, with sacrifice. What excellent fooles Religion makes of men? Beleeues TERENTIVS, (If these were dangers, as I shame to thinke them) The gods could change the certayne course of fate? Or, if they could, they would (now, in a moment) For a beeues fat, or lesse, be brib'd t'inuert Those long decrees? Then thinke the gods, like flies, Are to be taken with the steame of flesh, Or bloud, diffus'd about their altars: thinke Their power as cheape, as I esteeme it small. Of all the throng, that fill th'Olympian hall, And (without pitty) lade poore ATLAS back, I know not that one deity, but Fortune; To whom, I would throw vp, in begging smoke, One grane of incense: or whose eare I'ld buy With thus much oyle. Her, I, indeed, adore; And keepe her gratefull image in my house, Some-times belonging to a Romane king, But, now call'd mine, as by the better stile: To her, I care not, if (for satisfying Your scrupulous phant'sies) I goe offer. Bid Our priest prepare vs honny, milke, and poppy, His masculine odours, and night-vestments: say, Our rites are instant, which perform'd, you'll see How vaine, and worthy laughter, your feares be.