The Conspiracy of Charles Duke of Byron · chunk 20 of 33
Chapman, George · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) history · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
O that your statuary could express you, With any nearness to your own instructions; That statue would I prize past all the jewels Within my cabinet of Beatrice, The memory of my grandam Portugal; Most royal duke: we can not long endure To be thus private, let us then conclude, With this great resolution: that your wisdom, Will not forget to cast a pleasing vail Over your anger; that may hide each glance, Of any notice taken of your wrong, And show yourself the more obsequious. 'tis but the virtue of a little patience, There are so oft attempts made 'gainst his person, That sometimes they may speed, for they are plants That spring the more for cutting, and at last Will cast their wished shadow; mark ere long, See who comes here my Lord, as now no more, Now must we turn out stream another way; My Lord, I humbly thank his majesty, That he would grace my idle time spent here With entertainment of your princely person; Which, worthily, he keeps for his own bosom. My Lord, the duke Nemours? and Count Soisson? Your honours have been bountifully done me In often visitation: let me pray you, To see some jewels now, and help my choice: In making up a present for the King. Your highness shall much grace us. I am doubtful That I have much incensed the duke Byron, With praising the king's worthiness in arms So much past all men. He deserves it, highly. What wrongs are these, laid on me by the King, To equal others worths in war, with mine; Endure this, and be turned into his Moil To bear his sumptures: honoured friend be true, And we will turn these torrents, hence. Why suffer you that ill aboding vermin, To breed so near your bosom? be assured, His haunts are ominous, not the throats of Ravens, Spent on infected houses; howls of dogs, When no sound stirs, at midnight; apparitions, And strokes of spirits, clad in blackmen's shapes: Or ugly women's: the adverse decrees Of constellations, not security, In vicious peace, are surer fatal ushers Of female mischiefs, and mortalities, Than this prodigious fiend is, where he fawns: La fiend, and not Laffin, he should be called. Be what he will, men in themselves entire, March safe with naked feet on coals of fire: I build not outward, nor depend on props, Nor choose my consort by the common ear: Nor by the Moonshine, in the grace of Kings: So rare are true deservers, loved or known, That men loved vulgarly, are ever none: Nor men graced servilely, for being spots In princes' trains, though borne even with their crowns; The Stallion power, hath such a besom tail, That it sweeps all from justice, and such filth He bears out in it, that men mere exempt, Are merely clearest men will shortly buy Friends from the prison, or the pillory, Rather than honours markets. I fear none, But foul Ingratitude, and Detraction, In all the brood of villainy.
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)
O that your statuary could expresse you, With any nerenesse to your owne instructions; That statue would I prise past all the iewells Within my cabinet of Beatrice, The memorie of my Grandame Portugall; Most roiall duke: we can not longe endure To be thus priuate, let vs then conclude, With this great resolution: that your wisedome, Will not forget to cast a pleasing vaile Ouer your anger; that may hide each glance, Of any notice taken of your wronge, And shew your self the more obsequious. Tis but the virtue of a little patience, There are so oft attempts made gainst his person, That sometimes they may speede, for they are palnts That spring the more for cutting, and at last Will cast their wished shadow; marke ere long, See who comes here my Lord, as now no more, Now must we turne out streame another way; My Lord, I humbly thanke his maiesty, That he would grace my idle time spent here With entertainement of your princely person; VVhich, worthely, he keepes for his owne bosome. My Lord, the duke Nemours? and Count Soisson? Your honours haue beene bountifully done me In often visitation: let me pray you, To see some iewells now, and helpe my choice: In making vp a present for the King. Your highnesse shall much grace vs. I am doubtfull That I haue much incenst the duke Byron, With praising the Kings worthinesse in armes So much past all men. He deserues it, highly. What wrongs are these, laid on me by the King, To equall others worths in warre, with mine; Endure this, and be turnd into his Moile To beare his sumptures: honord friend be true, And we will turne these torrents, hence. Why suffer you that ill aboding vermine, To breede so neere your bosome? bee assurde, His hants are omenous, not the throtes of Rauens, Spent on infected house; houles of dogges, When no sound stirres, at mid-night; apparitions, And strokes of spirits, clad in blackmens shapes: Or ougly womens: the aduerse decrees Of constellations, no securitie, In vicious peace, are surer fatall vshers Of femall mischiefes, and mortallities, Then this prodigious feend is, where he fawnes: La fiend, and not Laffin, he should be cald. Be what he will, men in themselues entire, March safe with naked feete on coles of fire: I build not outward, nor depend on proppes, Nor chuse my consort by the common eare: Nor by the Moone-shine, in the grace of Kings: So rare are true deseruers, lou'd or knowne, That men lou'd vulgarely, are euer none: Nor men grac't seruilely, for being spots In Princes traines, though borne euen with their crownes; The Stalion powre, hath such a beesome taile, That it sweepes all from iustice, and such filth He beares out in it, that men mere exempt, Are merely cleerest men will shortly buie Friends from the prison, or the pillorie, Rather then honors markets. I feare none, But foule Ingratitude, and Detraction, In all the brood of villanie.