Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-c.1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.78 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feigned Fortune to be throned. The Base o' th' Mount Is ranked with all deserts, all kind of Natures That labour on the bosom of this Sphere, To propagate their states; amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this Sovereign Lady fixed, One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her, Whose present grace, to present slaves and servants Translates his Rivals. 'Tis conceived, to scope This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinks With one man beckoned from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy Mount To climb his happiness, would be well expressed In our Condition. Nay Sir, but hear me on: All those which were his Fellows but of late, Some better than his value; on the moment Fellow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make Sacred even his stirrup, and through him Drink the free Air. I marry, what of these? When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurns down her late beloved; all his Dependants Which laboured after him to the Mountain's top, Even on their knees and hand, let him sit down, Not one accompanying his declining foot. 'tis common: A thousand moral Paintings I can show, That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortunes, More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show Lord Timon, that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head. Imprisoned is he, say you? I my good Lord, five Talents is his debt, His means most short, his Creditors most strait: Your Honourable Letter he desires To those have shut him up, which failing, Periods his comfort. Noble Ventidius well: I am not of that Feather, to shake off My Friend when he must need me. I do know him A Gentleman, that well deserves a help, Which he shall have. I'll pay the debt, and free him. Your Lordship ever binds him. Commend me to him, I will send his ransom, And being enfranchised bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to help the Feeble up, But to support him after. Far you well. All happiness to your Honor. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Freely good Father. Thou hast a Servant named Lucilius. I have so: What of him? Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee. Attends he here, or no? Lucillius. here at your Lordship's service. This Fellow here, L. Timon, this thy Creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first have been inclined to thrift, And my estate deserves an Heir more raised, Then one which holds a Trencher. Well: what further? One only Daughter have I, no Kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The Maid is fair, o' th' youngest for a Bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost In Qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I prithee (Noble Lord) join with me to forbid him her resort, Myself have spoke in vain.
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Sir, I haue vpon a high and pleaſant hill Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The Baſe o' th' Mount Is rank'd with all deſerts, all kinde of Natures That labour on the boſome of this Sphere, To propagate their ſtates; among'ſt them all, Whoſe eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt, One do I perſonate of Lord Timons frame, Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her, Whoſe preſent grace, to preſent ſlaues and ſeruants Tranſlates his Riuals. 'Tis conceyu'd, to ſcope This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes With one man becken'd from the reſt below, Bowing his head againſt the ſteepy Mount To climbe his happineſſe, would be well expreſt In our Condition. Nay Sir, but heare me on: All thoſe which were his Fellowes but of late, Some better then his valew; on the moment Follow his ſtrides, his Lobbies fill with tendance, Raine Sacrificiall whiſperings in his eare, Make Sacred euen his ſtyrrop, and through him Drinke the free Ayre. I marry, what of theſe? When Fortune in her ſhift and change of mood Spurnes downe her late beloued; all his Dependants Which labour'd after him to the Mountaines top, Euen on their knees and hand, let him ſit downe, Not one accompanying his declining foot. Tis common: A thouſand morall Paintings I can ſhew, That ſhall demonſtrate theſe quicke blowes of Fortunes, More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well, To ſhew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue ſeene The foot aboue the head. Impriſon'd is he, ſay you? I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt, His meanes moſt ſhort, his Creditors moſt ſtraite: Your Honourable Letter he deſires To thoſe haue ſhut him vp, which failing, Periods his comfort. Noble Ventidius well: I am not of that Feather, to ſhake off My Friend when he muſt neede me. I do know him A Gentleman, that well deſerues a helpe, Which he ſhall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him. Your Lordſhip euer bindes him. Commend me to him, I will ſend his ranſome, And being enfranchized bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp, But to ſupport him after. Fare you well. All happineſſe to your Honor. Lord Timon, heare me ſpeake. Freely good Father. Thou haſt a Seruant nam'd Lucilius. I haue ſo: What of him? Moſt Noble Timon, call the man before thee. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius. Heere at your Lordſhips ſeruice. This Fellow heere, L. Timon, this thy Creature, By night frequents my houſe. I am a man That from my firſt haue beene inclin'd to thrift, And my eſtate deſerues an Heyre more rais'd, Then one which holds a Trencher. Well: what further? One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin elſe, On whom I may conferre what I haue got: The Maid is faire, a' th' youngeſt for a Bride, And I haue bred her at my deereſt coſt In Qualities of the beſt. This man of thine Attempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord) Ioyne with me to forbid him her reſort, My ſelfe haue ſpoke in vaine.