Neptune's Triumph for the Return of Albion · chunk 6 of 6
Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1624 [Jan 6 (projected)] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 441 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Now turn and view the wonders of the deep, Where Proteus herds, and Neptune's Orks do keep, Where all is ploughed, yet still the pasture's green The ways are found; and yet no paths are seen. Come noble Nymphs, and do not hid The joys, for which you so provide: If not to mingle with the men, What do you here? go home again. Your dressing do confess, By what we see, so curious parts Of Pallas, and Arachne's arts, That you could mean no less. Why do you wear the Silkworms toils; Or glory in the shellfish spoils? Or strive to show the grains of ore That you have gathered on the shore, Whereof to make a stock To grafted the greener Emerald on Or any better-watered stone? Or Ruby of the rock? Why do you smell of Amber gris, Of which was form Neptune's Niece, The Queen of Love; unless you can Like Seaborn Venus' love a man? Try, put yourselves unto't. Your looks, your smiles, and thoughts that meet, Ambrosian hands, and silver feet, do promise' you will do't. 'Tis time, your eyes should be refreshed at length With something new, a part of Neptune's strength See, yond, his fleet, ready to go, or come, Or fetch the richeses of the Ocean home, So to secure him both in peace, and wars, Till not one ship alone, but all be stars. I have another service for you, Brother Poet, a dish of pickled Sailors, fine salt Sea-boys, shall relish like Anchovies, or Caviar, to draw down a cup of Nectar, in the skirts of a night. Come away boys, the Town is ours, hay for Neptune, and our young Master. He knows the Compass, and the Card, While Castor sits on the main yard, And Pollux too, to help your hails; And bright Leucothoe, fills your sails: Arion sings, the Dolphins swim, And, all the way, to gaze on him. Although we wish the Triumph still might last For such a Prince, and his discovery past, Yet now, great Lord of waters, and of Isles, Give Proteus leave to turn unto his wiles: And, whilst young Albion doth thy labours ease, Dispatch Portunus to thy Ports, And Saron to thy Seas: To meet old Nereus, with his fifty girls, From aged Indus laden home with Pearls, And orient gums, to burn unto thy name. And may thy Subjects hearts be all on flame: Whilst thou dost keep the earth in firm estate, And 'mongst the winds dost suffer no debate. But both at Sea, and Land, our powers increase With health, and all the golden gifts of peace.
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)
Now turne and view the wonders of the deepe, Where Proteus herds, and Neptunes Orkes doe keepe, Where all is plough'd, yet ſtill the paſture's greene The wayes are found; and yet no pathes are ſeene. Come noble Nymphs, and doe not hide The joyes, for which you ſo provide: If not to mingle with the men, What doe you here? goe home agen. Your dreſsing doe confeſſe, By what we ſee, ſo curious parts Of Pallas, and Arachnes arts, That you could meane no leſſe. Why doe you weare the Silke-wormes toyles; Or glory in the ſhell-fiſh ſpoyles? Or ſtrive to ſhew the graines of ore That you have gather'd on the ſhore, Whereof to make a ſtocke To graft the greener Emerald on Or any better-water'd ſtone? Or Ruby of the rocke? Why doe you ſmell of Amber gris, Of which was formed Neptunes Neice, The Queene of Love; unleſſe you can Like Sea-borne Venus love a man? Try, put your ſelves unto't. Your lookes, your ſmiles, and thoughts that meet, Ambroſian hands, and ſilver feet, doe promiſe you will do't. 'Tis time, your eyes ſhould be refreſh'd at length With ſomething new, a part of Neptunes ſtrength See, yond', his fleete, ready to goe, or come, Or fetch the riches of the Ocean home, So to ſecure him both in peace, and warres, Till not one ſhip alone, but all be ſtarres. I have another ſervice for you, Brother Poet, a diſh of pickled Saylors, fine ſalt Sea-boyes, ſhall reliſh like Anchoves, or Caveare, to draw downe a cup of Nectar, in the skirts of a night. Come away boyes, the Towne is ours, hay for Neptune, and our young Maſter. He knowes the Compaſſe, and the Card, While Caſtor ſits on the maine yard, And Pollux too, to helpe your hayles; And bright Leucothoe, fils your ſayles: Arion ſings, the Dolphins ſwim, And, all the way, to gaze on him. Although we wiſh the Triumph ſtill might laſt For ſuch a Prince, and his diſcovery paſt, Yet now, great Lord of waters, and of Iſles, Give Proteus leave to turne unto his wiles: And, whilſt young Albion doth thy labours aſe, Diſpatch Portunus to thy Ports, And Saron to thy Seas: To meet old Nereus, with his fifty girles, From aged Indus laden home with Pearles, And orient gummes, to burne unto thy name. And may thy Subjects hearts be all on flame: Whilſt thou doſt keepe the earth in firme eſtate, And 'mongſt the winds doſt ſuffer no debate. But both at Sea, and Land, our powers increaſe With health, and all the golden gifts of peace.