Chapman, George · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) · Paul's unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 526 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
He that observes, but like a worldly man, That which doth oft succeed, and by th'events Values the worth of things; will think it true, That nature works at random just with you: But with as much decorum she may make A thing that from the feet up to the throat Hath all the wondrous fabric man should have, And leave it headless for an absolute man, As give a whole man valour, virtue, learning, Without an end more excellent than those, On whom she no such worthy part bestows. Why you shall see it here, here will be one Young, learned, valiant, virtuous, and full manned; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand, That, with an ominous eye, she wept to see So much consumed her virtuous treasury; Yet, as the winds sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them pass through) let it stand But a tree solid, since it gives no way To their wild rages, they rend up by th' root: So this full creature now shall reel and fall, Before the frantic puffs of purblind chance That pipes thorough empty men, and makes them dance: Not so the Sea raves on the Lybian sands, Tumbling her billows in each others neck: Not so the surges of the euxine Sea (Near to the frosty Pole, where free Bootes From those dark-deep waves turns his radiant team) Swell being enraged, even from their inmost drop, As Fortune swings about the restless state Of virtue, now thrown into all men's hate. Revive those stupid thoughts, and sit not thus, Gathering the horrors of your servants slaughter, (So urged by your hand, and so imminent) Into an idle fancy; but devise How to prevent it; watch when he shall rise, And with a sudden outcry of his murder, Blow his retreat before he be engaged. O father, have my dumb woes waked your death? When will our human griefs be at their height? Man is a tree, that hath no top in cares; No root in comforts; all his power to live Is given to no end, but t' have power to grieve. 'tis the just curse of our abused creation, Which we must suffer here, and scape hereafter: He hath the great mind that submits to all, He sees inevitable; he the small That carps at earth, and her foundation shaker, And rather than himself, will mend his maker. Away, (my love) away, thou wilt be murmured. murmured? I know not what that Hebrew means: That word had ne'er been named had all been D'Ambois. murmured? By heaven he is my murderer That shows me not a murderer; what such bug Abhorreth not the very sleep of D'Ambois? murmured? Who dares give all the room I see To D'Ambois' reach? or look with any odds His fight i'th' face, upon whose hand sits death; Whose sword hath wings, and every feather pierceth? Let in my politic visitants, let them in, Though entering like so many moving armours, Fate is more strong than arms, and sly than treason, And I at all parts buckled in my Fate: Dare they not come?
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)
He that obserues, but like a worldly man, That which doth oft succeede, and by th'euents Values the worth of things; will thinke it true, That nature workes at randome iust with you: But with as much decorum she may make A thing that from the feete vp to the throat Hath all the wondrous fabrike man should haue, And leaue it headlesse for an absolute man, As giue a whole man valour, vertue, learning, Without an end more excellent than those, On whom she no such worthie part bestowes. Why you shall see it here, here will be one Yoong, learned, valiant, vertuous, and full mand; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand, That, with an ominous eie, she wept to see So much consum'd her vertuous treasurie; Yet, as the windes sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them passe through) let it stand But a tree solid, since it giues no way To their wilde rages, they rend vp by th' roote: So this full creature now shall reele and fall, Before the franticke pufs of purblinde chance That pipes thorow emptie men, and makes them dance: Not so the Sea raues on the Lybian sandes, Tumbling her billowes in each others necke: Not so the surges of the euxine Sea (Neere to the frostie Pole, where free Bootes From those darke-deepe waues turns his radiant Teame) Swell being enrag'd, euen from their inmost drop, As Fortune swings about the restlesse state Of vertue, now throwne into all mens hate. Reuiue those stupid thoughts, and sit not thus, Gathering the horrors of your seruants slaughter, (So vrg'd by your hand, and so imminent) Into an idle fancie; but deuise How to preuent it; watch when he shall rise, And with a sudden outcrie of his murther, Blow his retreat before he be engag'd. O father, haue my dumbe woes wak'd your death? When will our humane griefes be at their height? Man is a tree, that hath no toppe in cares; No roote in comforts; all his power to liue Is giuen to no end, but t' haue power to grieue. Tis the iust curse of our abus'd creation, Which wee must suffer heere, and scape heereafter: He hath the great mind that submits to all, He sees ineuitable; he the small That carps at earth, and her foundation shaker, And rather than himselfe, will mend his maker. Away, (my loue) away, thou wilt be murther'd. Murther'd? I know not what that Hebrew meanes: That word had ne're beene nam'd had all beene D'Ambois. Murther'd? By heauen he is my murtherer That shewes me not a murtherer; what such bugge Abhorreth not the very sleepe of D'Ambois? Murther'd? Who dares giue all the roome I see To D'Ambois reach? or looke with any oddes His fight ith' face, vpon whose hand sits death; Whose sword hath wings, and euerie feather pierceth? Let in my politique visitants, let them in, Though entring like so many mouing armours, Fate is more strong than arms, and slie than treason, And I at all parts buckl'd in my Fate: Dare they not come?