Chapman, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) · Paul's unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 459 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
I am in no power earthly, but in yours; To what end should I go to bed my Lord, That wholly missed the comfort of my bed? Or how should sleep possess my faculties, Wanting the proper closer of mine eyes? Then will I never more sleep night from thee: All mine own Business, all the Kings affairs Shall take the day to serve them: Every night I'll ever dedicate to thy delight. Nay, good my Lord esteem not my desires Such doters on their humours, that my judgement Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure: A wives pleased husband must her object be In all her acts, not her soothed fantasy. Then come my love, Now pay those Rites to sleep Thy fair eyes owe him: shall we now to bed? O no my Lord, your holy Friar says, All couplings in the day that touch the bed, Adulterous are, even in the married; Whose grave and worthy doctrine, well I know, Your faith in him will liberally allow. he's a most learned and Religious man; Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois (Fortunes proud mushroom shot up in a night) Stand like an Atlas underneath the King; Which greatness with him Monsieur now envies As bitterly and deadly as the Guise. What, he that was but yesterday his maker? His raiser and preserver? even the same. Each natural agent works but to this end, To render that it works on, like itself; Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois, Cannot to his ambitious end effect, But that (quite opposite) the King hath power (In his love borne to D'Ambois) to convert The point of Monsieurs aim on his own breast, He turns his outward love to inward hate: A PRINCE's love is like the lightnings fume, Which no man can embrace, but must consume. Speak home my Bussy, thy impartial words Are like brave Falcons that dare truss a fowl Much greater than themselves; Flatterers are Kites That check at nothing; thou shalt be my Eagle, And bear my thunder underneath thy wings: Truths words like jewels hang in th'ears of Kings. Would I might live to see no Jews hang there In steed of jewels; sycophants I mean, Who use truth like the Devil, his true Foe Cast by the Angel to the pit of fears, And bound in chains; truth seldom decks king's ears: Slave flattery (like a Rippiers legs rolled up In boots of hay-ropes) with Kings soothed guts Swaddled and strappled, now lives only free. O 'tis a subtle knave; how like the plague Unfelt, he strikes into the brain of truth, And rageth in his entrails when he can, Worse than the poison of a red haired man.
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)
I am in no powre earthly, but in yours; To what end should I goe to bed my Lord, That wholly mist the comfort of my bed? Or how should sleepe possesse my faculties, VVanting the proper closer of mine eies? Then will I neuer more sleepe night from thee: All mine owne Businesse, all the Kings affaires Shall take the day to serue them: Euerie night Ile euer dedicate to thy delight. Nay, good my Lord esteeme not my desires Such doters on their humours, that my iudgement Cannot subdue them to your worthier pleasure: A wiues pleas'd husband must her obiect be In all her acts, not her sooth'd fantasie. Then come my loue, Now pay those Rites to sleepe Thy faire eies owe him: shall we now to bed? O no my Lord, your holy Frier saies, All couplings in the day that touch the bed, Adulterous are, euen in the married; Whose graue and worthie doctrine, well I know, Your faith in him will liberally allow. Hee's a most learned and Religious man; Come to the Presence then, and see great D'Ambois (Fortunes proud mushrome shot vp in a night) Stand like an Atlas vnderneath the King; Which greatnesse with him Monsieur now enuies As bitterly and deadly as the Guise. What, he that was but yesterday his maker? His raiser and preseruer? Euen the same. Each naturall agent workes but to this end, To render that it works on, like it selfe; Which since the Monsieur in his act on D'Ambois, Cannot to his ambitious end effect, But that (quite opposite) the King hath power (In his loue borne to D'Ambois) to conuert The point of Monsieurs aime on his owne breast, He turnes his outward loue to inward hate: A Princes loue is like the lightnings fume, Which no man can embrace, but must consume. Speake home my Bussy, thy impartiall wordes Are like braue Faulcons that dare trusse a Fowle Much greater than themselues; Flatterers are Kites That checke at nothing; thou shalt be my Eagle, And beare my thunder vnderneath thy wings: Truths words like iewels hang in th'eares of Kings. Would I might liue to see no Iewes hang there In steede of iewels; sycophants I meane, Who vse truth like the Diuell, his true Foe Cast by the Angell to the pit of feares, And bound in chaines; truth seldome decks Kings eares: Slaue flatterie (like a Rippiers legs rowl'd vp In bootes of haie-ropes) with Kings soothed guts Swadled and strappl'd, now liues only free. O tis a subtle knaue; how like the plague Vnfelt, he strikes into the braine of truth, And rageth in his entrailes when he can, Worse than the poison of a red hair'd man.