The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 6 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Accept of it, great King! The Thracian Orpheus never entertained More joy in sight of his Eurydice, When with his silver tunes he did enchant The triple-headed dog, and reassumde, His soul's beatitude, from Pluto's Court, Then your devoted servant in this gift, Wherein such unrespected joy concurs, That every sense dances within his blessed circumference, And calls my bliss, A Newyear's gift from Ioue; And not from that which reason or discourse Proudly from beasts doth challenge, as from man. In brief, my Lord, Look how proud Nature in her store, Because she hath one Phoenix and no more, Whose individual substance being but one, Makes Nature boast of her perfection: So ist with me, great King; more blessed in this, Then man turned constellation, starred in bliss. Her gracious answer, and I am content. Her consent, Cousin Caradoc, I warrant her there is never a Lady in England, but consent to give prike and praise to a good thing; go you together: I warrant her. How now, my Lord, do you play the Priest? Priests! Cads blue-hood, I should be mad fellow to make Priests: for mark you now, my Lord: the Priests say, Let no man put her asunder: that's very good. But believe me, and her will, it is a great deal better to put her between; because the one is a curse, and the fruits of the womb is a great blessing. Now Princely son, reach me each other's hand. Here in the sight of heaven, of God and men, I join your Nuptial hands. Oh, may this hour Be guided by a fair and kind aspect. Let no malevolent Planet this day dart Her hateful influence, 'gainst these hallowed rites. You heavenly Pilots of the life of man, Oh, be propitious to this sacred cause, That God and men may seal it with applause. So now to Ceremonies. Music, sound shrill thy note: 'Tis Hymen's holiday; Let Bacchus' float. Go you unto the Church, and with your holy fires Perfume the Altars of your country gods, Whilst I in curses, swifter in pursuit, Then winged lightning, execrate your souls, And all your Hymeneal jollity, Now swells the womb of my invention, With some prodigious project, and my brain Italianates my barren faculties To Machiavellian blackness. Welshman, stand fast; Or by these holy raptures that inspire The soul of Politicians with revenge, Black projects, deep conceits, quaint villainies, By her that excommunicates my right Of my creation, with a bastard's name, And makes me stand nonsuited to a crown; I'll fall myself, or pluck this Welshman down. Cornwall, he killed thy brother. There's the base, Whereon my envy shall erect the frame Of his confusion. Gloster, I know, Is Nature's masterpiece of envious plots, The Cabinet of all adulterate ill Envy can hatch; with these I will begin, To make black envy Primate of each sin. Now, in the heat of all their reveling, Hypocrisy, Time's best complexion, Smooth all my rugged thoughts, let them appear As brothel sins benighted, darkly clear. Lend me thy face, good Ianus, let me look Just on Time's fashion, with a double face, And clad my purpose in a Fox's case.
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)
Accept of it, great King! The Thracian Orpheus neuer entertayn'd More Ioy in sight of his Euridice, When with his siluer tunes he did inchaunt The triple-headed dog, and reassumde, His soules beatitude, from Plutoes Court, Then your deuoted seruant in this gift, Wherein such vnrespected ioy concurs, That euery sense daunces within his blest circumference, And cals my blisse, A Newyeeres gift from Ioue; And not from that which reason or discourse Proudly from beasts doth challenge, as from man. In briefe, my Lord, Looke how proud Nature in her store, Because shee hath one Phenix and no more, Whose indiuiduall substance being but one, Makes Nature boast of her perfection: So ist with me, great King; more blest in this, Then man turn'd constellation, starr'd in blisse. Her gracious answere, and I am content. Her consent, Cousin Caradoc, I warrant her there is neuer a Lady in England, but consent to giue prike and prayse to a good thing; goe you together: I warrant her. How now, my Lord, doe you play the Priest? Priests! Cads blue-hood, I should be mad fellow to make Priests: for marke you now, my Lord: the Priests say, Let no man put her asunder: thats very good. But belieue mee, and her will, it is a great deale petter to put her betweene; because the one is a curse, and the fruites of the wombe is a great plessing. Now Princely sonne, reach me each others hand. Here in the sight of heauen, of God and men, I ioyne your Nuptiall hands. Oh, may this howre Be guided by a fayre and kind aspect. Let no maleuolent Planet this day dart Her hateful influence, 'gainst these hallowed rites. You heauenly Pilots of the life of man, Oh, be propitious to this sacred cause, That God and men may seale it with applause. So now to Ceremonies. Musicke, sound shrill thy note: 'Tis Hymens holyday; Let Bacchus flote. Go you vnto the Church, and with your holy fires Perfume the Altars of your country gods, Whilst I in curses, swifter in pursute, Then winged lightning, execrate your soules, And all your Hymeneall iollity, Now swels the wombe of my inuention, With some prodigious proiect, and my brayne Italianates my barren faculties To Machiuilian blacknesse. Welshman, stand fast; Or by these holy raptures that inspire The soule of Polititians with reuenge, Blacke proiects, deepe conceits, quaynt villanies, By her that excommunicates my right Of my creation, with a bastards name, And makes me stand nonsuted to a crowne; Ile fall my selfe, or plucke this Welshman down. Cornwall, he kild thy brother. There's the base, Whereon my enuy shall erect the frame Of his confusion. Gloster, I know, Is Natures master-piece of enuious plots, The Cabinet of all adulterate ill Enuy can hatch; with these I will beginne, To make blacke enuy Primate of each sin. Now, in the heate of all their reuelling, Hypocrisie, Times best complexion, Smooth all my rugged thoughts, let them appeare As brothell sinnes benighted, darkely cleare. Lend me thy face, good Ianus, let mee looke Iust on Times fashion, with a double face, And clad my purpose in a Foxes case.