The Tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron · chunk 27 of 37
Chapman, George · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 531 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
O all ye virtuous powers, in earth and heaven, That have not put on hellish flesh and blood, From whence these monstrous issues are produced, That cannot bear in execrable concord, And one prodigious subject; contraries; Nor (as the I'll that of the world admire) Is severed from the world) can cut yourselves From the consent and sacred harmony Of life, yet live; of honour, yet be honoured; As this extravagant, and errant rogue, From all your fair Decorums, and just laws, Finds power to do: and like a loathsome wen, Sticks to the face of nature, and this Court; Thicken this air, and turn your plaguy rage, Into a shape as dismal as his sin. And with some equal horror tear him of From sight and memory: let not such a court, To whose fame all the Kings of Christendom, Now laid their ears; so crack her royal Trump, As to sound through it, that here vaunted justice Was got in such an incest: is it justice To tempt, and witch a man, to break the law, And by that witch condemn him? let me draw Poison into me with this cursed air, If he bewitched me, and transformed me not; He bit me by the ear, and made me drink Enchanted waters; let me see an Image That uttered these distinct words; Thou shalt die, O wicked King; and if the devil gave him Such power upon an Image; upon me How might he tyrannize? that by his vows And oaths so Stygian, had my Nerves and will, In more awe than his own: what man is he That is so high, but he would higher be? So roundly sighted, but he may be found, To have a blind side, which by craft, pursued, Confederacy, and simply trusted treason, May wrest him past his Angel, and his reason? Witchcraft can never taint an honest mind. True gold, will any trial stand, untouched. For colours that will stain when they are tried, The cloth itself is ever cast aside. Sometimes, the very Gloss in any thing, Will seem a stain; the fault not in the light, Nor in the guilty object, but our sight. My gloss, raised from the richness of my stuff, Had too much splendour for the Owly eye, Of politic and thankless royalty: I did deserve too much; a pleurisy Of that blood in me is the cause I die. Virtue in great men must be small and sleight: For poor stars rule, where she is exquisite, 'tis tyrannous, and impious policy, To put to death by fraud and treachery; Sleight is then royal, when it makes men live, And if it urge faults, urgeth to forgive. He must be guiltless, that condemns the guilty, Like things, do nourish like, and not destroy them: Minds must be sound, that judge affairs of weight, And seeing hands, cut corrosives from your sight. A Lord intelligencer? hangman-like, Thrust him from humane fellowship, to the deserts Blow him with curses; shall your justice call Treachery her Father? would you wish her weigh My valour with the hiss of such a viper? What I have done to shun the mortal shame,
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 all yee vertuous powers, in earth and heauen, That haue not put on hellish flesh and blood, From whence these monstrous issues are produc'd, That cannot beare in execrable concord, And one prodigious subiect; contraries; Nor (as the Ile that of the world admirde) Is seuerd from the world) can cut your selues From the consent and sacred hermonie Of life, yet liue; of honor, yet be honord; As this extrauagant, and errant roge, From all your faire Decorums, and iust lawes, Findes powre to doe: and like a lothesome wen, Sticks to the face of nature, and this Court; Thicken this ayre, and turne your plaguie rage, Into a shape as dismall as his sinne. And with some equall horror teare him of From sight and memory: let not such a court, To whose fame all the Kings of Christendome, Now laid their eares; so crack her royall Trumpe, As to sound through it, that here vanted iustice Was got in such an incest: is it iustice To tempt, and witch a man, to breake the law, And by that witch condemne him? let me draw Poison into me with this cursed ayre, If he bewitcht me, and transformd me not; He bit me by the eare, and made me drinke Enchanted waters; let me see an Image That vtterd these distinct words; Thou shalt dye, O wicked King; and if the diuill gaue him Such powre vpon an Image; vpon me How might he tyrannize? that by his vowes And othes so Stygian, had my Nerues and will, In more awe then his owne: what man is he That is so high, but he would higher be? So roundly sighted, but he may be found, To haue a blinde side, which by craft, persude, Confederacie, and simply trusted treason, May wrest him past his Angell, and his reason? Witchcraft can neuer taint an honest minde. True gold, will any triall stand, vntoucht. For coulours that will staine when they are tryed, The cloth it selfe is euer cast aside. Some-times, the very Glosse in any thing, Will seeme a staine; the fault not in the light, Nor in the guilty obiect, but our sight. My glosse, raisd from the richnesse of my stuffe, Had too much splendor for the Owly eye, Of politique and thanklesse royaltie: I did deserue too much; a plurisie Of that blood in me is the cause I dye. Vertue in great men must be small and sleight: For poore starres rule, where she is exquisite, Tis tyrannous, and impious policie, To put to death by fraude and trecherie; Sleight is then royll, when it makes men liue, And if it vrge faults, vrgeth to forgiue. He must be guiltlesse, that condemnes the guiltie, Like things, do nourish like, and not destroy them: Mindes must be sound, that iudge affaires of weight, And seeing hands, cut corosiues from your sight. A Lord intelligencer? hangman-like, Thrust him from humaine fellowship, to the desarts Blowe him with curses; shall your iustice call Treacherie her Father? would you wish her weigh My valure with the hisse of such a viper? What I haue done to shunne the mortall shame,