The Tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron · chunk 11 of 37
Chapman, George · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.77 · 443 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Here is the precedent Ianin, my Lord; Sent from the King, and urgeth quick access. Another Pursuivant? and one so quick? He takes next course with me, to make him stay: But, let him in, let's here what he importunes. Honour, and loyal hopes to Duke Byron. No other touch me: say how fares the King? Farely my Lord; the cloud is yet far off That aims at his obscuring, and his will, Would gladly give the motion to your powers That should disperse it; but the means, himself, Would personally relate in your direction. Still on that haunt? Upon my life, my Lord, He much desires to see you, and your sight Is now grown necessary to suppress (As with the glorious splendour of the Sun) The rude winds that report breaths in his ears, Endeavouring to blast your loyalty. Sir, if my loyalty, stick in him no faster But that the light breath of report may lose it, (So I rest still unmoved) let him be shaken. But these aloof abodes, my Lord bewray, That there is rather firmness in your breath. Then in your heart; Truth is not made of glass, That with a small touch, it should fear to break, And therefore should not shun it; believe me His arm is long, and strong; and it can fetch Any within his will, that will not come: Not he that surfeits in his mines of gold, And for the pride thereof, compares with God, Calling (with almost nothing different) His powers invincible, for omnipotent, Can back your boldest Fort 'gainst his assaults; It is his pride, and vain ambition, That hath but two stairs in his high designs; (The lowest envy, and the highest blood) That doth abuse you; and gives minds too high, Rather a will by giddiness to fall, Than to descend by judgement. I rely On no man's back nor belly; but the King Must think that merit, by ingratitude cracked, Requires a firmer cementing than words. And he shall find it a much harder work To solder broken hearts, than shivered glasses. My Lord, 'tis better hold a sovereign's love By bearing injuries; then by laying out Stir his displeasure; PRINCE's discontents (Being once incensed) are like the flames of Aetna, Not to be quenched, nor lessened: and be sure, A subjects confidence in any merit, Against his Sovereign, that makes him presume To fly too high; approves him like a cloud, That makes a show as it did hawk at kingdoms, And could command, all raised beneath his vapour: When suddenly, the fowl that hawlkt so fair, Stoops in a puddle, or consumes in air.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Here is the president Ianin, my Lord; Sent from the King, and vrgeth quick accesse. Another Pursiuant? and one so quick? He takes next course with me, to make him stay: But, let him in, let's here what he importunes. Honor, and loyall hopes to Duke Byron. No other tooch me: say how fares the King? Farely my Lord; the cloud is yet farre off That aimes at his obscuring, and his will, Would gladly giue the motion to your powers That should diperse it; but the meanes, himselfe, Would personally relate in your direction▪ Still on that hante? Vpon my life, my Lord, He much desires to see you, and your sight Is now growne necessarie to suppresse (As with the glorious splendor of the Sunne) The rude windes that report breaths in his eares, Endeuoring to blast your loialtie. Sir, if my loyaltie, stick in him no faster But that the light breath of report may loose it, (So I rest still vnmoou'd) let him be shaken. But these aloofe abodes, my Lord bewray, That there is rather firmnesse in your breath. Then in your heart; Truth is not made of glasse, That with a small touch, it should feare to breake, And therefore should not shunne it; beleeue me His arme is long, and strong; and it can fetch Any within his will, that will not come: Not he that surfets in his mines of gold, And for the pride thereof, compares with God, Calling (with almost nothing different) His powers inuincible, for omnipotent, Can back your boldest Fort gainst his assaults; It is his pride, and vaine ambition, That hath but two staires in his high designes; (The lowest enuie, and the highest bloud) That doth abuse you; and giues mindes too high, Rather a will by guiddinesse to fall, Then to descend by iudgement. I relye On no mans back nor belly; but the King Must thinke that merit, by ingratitude crackt, Requires a firmer sementing then words. And he shall finde it a much harder worke To soder broken hearts▪ then shiuerd glasses. My Lord, 'tis better hold a Soueraignes loue By bearing iniuries; then by laying out Stirre his displeasure; Princes discontents (Being once incenst) are like the flames of Aetna, Not to be quencht, nor lessend: and be sure, A subiects confidence in any merit, Against his Soueraigne, that makes him presume To flie too high; approoues him like a clowd, That makes a show as it did hawlke at kingdomes, And could command, all raisd beneath his vapor: When sodainly, the Fowle that hawlkt so faire, Stoopes in a puddle, or consumes in ayre.