The Tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron · chunk 32 of 37
Chapman, George · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi typicality 0.75 · 467 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
This asked in time (my Lord) while he besought it, And ere he had made his severity known, Had (with much joy to him) I know been granted; No, no, his bounty, then was misery, To offer when he knew 'twould be refused; He treads the vulgar path of all advantage, And loves men, for his vices, nor for their virtues; My service would have quickened gratitude, In his own death, had he been truly royal; It would have stirred the image of a King, Into perpetual motion; to have stood Near the conspiracy restrained at Mantes; And in a danger, that had then the Wolf, To fly upon his bosom, had I only held Intelligence with the conspirators; Who stuck at no check but my loyalty, Nor kept life in their hopes, but in my death; The siege of Amiens, would have softened rocks, Where covered all in showers of shot and fire, I seemed to all men's eyes a fighting flame With bullets cut, in fashion of a man; A sacrifice to valour (impious King) Which he will needs extinguish, with my blood; Let him beware, justice will fall from heaven, In the same form I served in that siege, And by the light of that, he shall decern, What good, my ill hath brought him; it will nothing, Assure his State: the same quench he hath cast Upon my life, shall quite put out his fame; This day he loseth, what he shall not find, By all days he survives; so good a servant, Nor Spain so great a foe; with whom, alas, Because I treated am I put to death? 'tis put a politic gloze: my courage raised me, For the dear price of five and thirty scars, And that hath ruined me, I thank my Stars: Come I'll go where ye will, ye shall not lead me. I fear his frenzy, Never saw I man of such a spirit so amazed at death. He altars every minute: what a vapour? The strongest mind is to a storm of crosses. O of what contraries consists a man! Of what impossible mixtures? vice and virtue, Corruption, and eternness, at one time, And in one subject, let together, lose? We have not any strength but weakens us, No greatness but doth crush us into air. Our knowledges, do light us but to err, Our Ornaments are Burdens: Our delights Are our tormentors; fiends that (raised in fears) At parting shake our Roofs about our ears. O virtue, thou art now far worse than Fortune! Her gifts stuck by the Duke, when thine are vanished, Thou brav'st thy friend in Need: Necessity, That used to keep thy wealth, contempt, thy love, Have both abandoned thee in his extremes, Thy powers are shadows, and thy comfort, dreams,
seed 43: T61 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
This askt in time (my Lord) while he besought it, And ere he had made his seuerity knowne, Had (with much ioye to him) I know beene granted; No, no, his bountie, then was misery, To offer when he knew twould be refusde; He treads the vulgar pathe of all aduantage, And loues men, for his vices, nor for their vertues; My seruice would haue quickn'd gratitude, In his owne death, had he beene truely royall; It would haue stirr'd the image of a King, Into perpetuall motion; to haue stood Neere the conspiracie restraind at Mantes; And in a danger, that had then the Woulfe, To flie vpon his bosome, had I onely held Intelligence with the conspirators; Who stuck at no check but my loyaltie, Nor kept life in their hopes, but in my death; The seege of Amiens, would haue softned rocks, Where couer'd all in showers of shot and fire, I seem'd to all mens eyes a fighting flame With bullets cut, in fashion of a man; A sacrifize to valure (impious King) Which he will needes extinguish, with my bloud; Let him beware, iustice will fall from heauen, In the same forme I serued in that seege, And by the light of that, he shall decerne, What good, my ill hath brought him; it will nothing, Assure his State: the same quench he hath cast Vpon my life, shall quite put out his fame; This day he looseth, what he shall not finde, By all daies he suruiues; so good a seruant, Nor Spaine so great a foe; with whom, ahlas, Because I treated am I put to death? Tis put a politique glose: my courage rais'd me, For the deare price of fiue and thirtie skarres, And that hath ruin'd me, I thanke my Starres▪ Come ile goe where yee will, yee shall not lead me. I feare his frenzie, Neuer saw I man of such a spirit so amaz'd at death. He alters euery minute: what a vapor? The strongest minde is to a storme of crosses. O of what contraries consists a man! Of what impossible mixtures? vice and vertue, Corruption, and eternnesse, at one time, And in one subiect, let together, loosse? We haue not any strength but weakens vs, No greatnes but doth crush vs into ayre. Our knowledges, do light vs but to erre, Our Ornaments are Burthens: Our delightss Are our tormentors; fiendes that (raisd in feares) At parting shake our Roofes about our eares. O vertue, thou art now farre worse then Fortune▪ Hr gifts stucke by the Duke, when thine are vanisht, Thou brau'st thy friend in Neede: Necessity, That vsd to keepe thy welth, contempt, thy loue, Haue both abandond thee in his extreames, Thy powers are shadowes, and thy comfort, dreames,