Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.85 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Since (Iupiter) our Son is good, take off his miseries. Peep through thy Marble Mansion, help, or we poor Ghosts will cry To ' th' shining Synod of the rest, against thy Deity. Help (Iupiter) or we appeal, and from thy justice fly. No more you petty Spirits of Region low Offend our hearing: hush. How dare you Ghosts Accuse the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know) Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coasts. Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of Flowers. Be not with mortal accidents oppressed, No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours. Whom best I love, I cross; to make my gift The more delayed, delighted. Be content, Your low-laide Son, our Godhead will uplift: His Comforts thrive, his Trials well are spent: Our jovial Star reigned at his Birth, and in Our Temple was he married: Rise, and fade, He shall be Lord of Lady Imogen, And happier much by his Affliction made. This Tablet lay upon his Breast, wherein Our pleasure, his full Fortune, doth confine, And so away: no farther with your din Express Impatience, lest you stir up mine: Mount Eagle, to my Palace Crystalline. He came in Thunder, his Celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy Eagle Stooped, as to foot us: his Ascension is More sweet than our blessed Fields: his Royal Bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his Beak, As when his God is pleased. Thanks Iupiter. The Marble Pavement clozes, he is entered His radiant Roof: Away, and to be blessed Let us with care perform his great behest. Sleep, thou hast been a Grandsire, and begot A Father to me: and thou hest created A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh scorn) Gone, they went hence so soon as they were borne: And so I am awake. Poor Wretches, that depend On Greatness, Favour; Dream as I have done, Wake, and find nothing. But (alas) I swerve: Many Dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steeped in Favours; so am I That have this Golden chance, and know not why: What Fairies haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment Nobler than that it covers. Let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our Courtiers, As good, as promise. WHen as a Lion's whelp, shall to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender Air: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopped branches, which being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old Stock, and freshly grow, then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plenty. 'Tis still a Dream: or else such stuff as Madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing, Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The Action of my life is like it, which I'll keep If but for sympathy.
seed 43: T28 · seed 44: T22 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Since (Iupiter) our Son is good, take off his miſeries. Peepe through thy Marble Manſion, helpe, or we poore Ghoſts will cry To' th' ſhining Synod of the reſt, againſt thy Deity. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale, and from thy iuſtice flye. No more you petty Spirits of Region low Offend our hearing: huſh. How dare you Ghoſtes Accuſe the Thunderer, whoſe Bolt (you know) Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coaſts. Poore ſhadowes of Elizium, hence, and reſt Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres. Be not with mortall accidents oppreſt, No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours. Whom beſt I loue, I croſſe; to make my guift The more delay'd, delighted. Be content, Your low-laide Sonne, our Godhead will vplift: His Comforts thriue, his Trials well are ſpent: Our Iouiall Starre reign'd at his Birth, and in Our Temple was he married: Riſe, and fade, He ſhall be Lord of Lady Imogen, And happier much by his Affliction made. This Tablet lay vpon his Breſt, wherein Our pleaſure, his full Fortune, doth confine, And ſo away: no farther with your dinne Expreſſe Impatience, leaſt you ſtirre vp mine: Mount Eagle, to my Palace Chriſtalline. He came in Thunder, his Celeſtiall breath Was ſulphurous to ſmell: the holy Eagle Stoop'd, as to foote vs: his Aſcenſion is More ſweet then our bleſt Fields: his Royall Bird Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his Beake, As when his God is pleas'd. Thankes Iupiter. The Marble Pauement clozes, he is enter'd His radiant Roofe: Away, and to be bleſt Let vs with care performe his great beheſt. Sleepe, thou haſt bin a Grandſire, and begot A Father to me: and thou hſt created A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh ſcorne) Gone, they went hence ſo ſoone as they were borne: And ſo I am awake. Poore Wretches, that depend On Greatneſſe, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done, Wake, and finde nothing. But (alas) I ſwerue: Many Dreame not to finde, neither deſerue, And yet are ſteep'd in Fauours; ſo am I That haue this Golden chance, and know not why: What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one, Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment Nobler then that it couers. Let thy effects So follow, to be moſt vnlike our Courtiers, As good, as promiſe. WHen as a Lyons whelpe, ſhall to himſelfe vnknown, without ſeeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender Ayre: And when from a ſtately Cedar ſhall be lopt branches, which being dead many yeares, ſhall after reuiue, bee ioynted to the old Stocke, and freſhly grow, then ſhall Poſthumus end his miſeries, Britaine be fortunate, and flouriſh in Peace and Plentie. 'Tis ſtill a Dreame: or elſe ſuch ſtuffe as Madmen Tongue, and braine not: either both, or nothing, Or ſenſeleſſe ſpeaking, or a ſpeaking ſuch As ſenſe cannot vntye. Be what it is, The Action of my life is like it, which Ile keepe If but for ſimpathy.