The Fortunate Isles and Their Union · chunk 1 of 6
Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1625 [Jan 9] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 505 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
Like a lightning from the sky, Or an arrow shot by Love, Or a Bird of his let fly; Be't a Sparrow, or a Dove: With that winged haste, come I, Loosed from the Sphere of Iove, To wish good-night To your delight. O, o! In Saturn's name, the Father of my Lord! What overcharged piece of Melancholy Is this, breaks in between my wishes thus, With bombing sighs? No! no Intelligence! Not yet! and all my vows now nine days old! Blindness of fate! Puppies had seen by this time: But I see nothing! that I should! or would see! What mean the Brethrens of the Rosy-crosse So to desert their votary! O! 'tis one Hath vowed himself unto that aery order, And now is gaping for the fly they promised him. I'll mix a little with him for my sport. Have I both in my lodging, and my diet, My cloathes, and every other solemn charge Observ'd'hem! made the naked boards my bed! A faggot for my pillow! hungered sore! And thirsted after 'hem! To look gaunt, and lean! Which will not be. (Who's that?) yes, and outwatched, Yea, and outwalked any Ghost alive In solitary circle, worn my boots, Knees, arms, and elbows out! Ran on the score! That have I (who suggests that?) and for more Than I will speak of, to abate this flesh, And have not gained the sight; Nay scarce the sense. (Voice, thou art right) of any thing but a cold Wind in my stomach. And a kind of whimsy. Here in my head, that puts me to the staggers, Whether there be that Brotherhood, or no. Believe frail man, they be: and thou shalt see. What shall I see? Me. Thee? Where? Here. If you Be Mr. Mere-fool. Sir, our name is Merry-fool. But by contraction Mere-fool. Than are you The wight I seek: and Sr. my name is Jophiel, Intelligence to the Sphere of Jupiter, An aery jocular spirit, employed to you From Father OUTIS. OUTIS? who is he? Know ye not OUTIS? Than you know No body: The good old Hermit, that was said to devil Here in the forest without trees, that built The Castle in the air, where all the Brethrens Rhodostaurotic live. It flies with wings, And runs on wheels: where Julian de Campis Holds out the brandished blade. Is't possible They think on me? Rise, be not lost in wonder, But hear me, and be faithful. All the Brethrens Have heard your vows, salute you, and expect you, By me, this next return. But the good Father Has been content to die for you. For me? For you. Last New-year's day, which some give out, Because it was his Birthday, and began The year of Jubilee, he would rest upon it, Being his hundred five and twentieth year: But the truth is, having observed your Genesis, He would not live, because he might leave all He had to you. What had he? Had? An office, Two, three, or four. Where?
seed 43: T37 · seed 44: T36 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Like a lightning from the skie, Or an arrow ſhot by Love, Or a Bird of his let fly; Bee't a Sparrow, or a Dove: With that winged haſt, come I, Looſed from the Sphere of Iove, To wiſh good-night To your delight. Oh, oh! In Saturn's name, the Father of my Lord! What over-charged piece of Melancholie Is this, breakes in betweene my wiſhes thus, With bombing ſighes? No! no Intelligence! Not yet! and all my vowes now nine dayes old! Blindneſſe of fate! Puppies had ſeene by this time: But I ſee nothing! that I ſhould! or would ſee! What meane the Brethren of the Roſie-Croſſe So to deſert their votarie! O! 'tis one Hath vow'd himſelfe unto that aërie order, And now is gaping for the flie they promis'd him. I'le mixe a little with him for my ſport. Have I both in my lodging, and my dyet, My cloathes, and every other ſolemne charge Obſerv'd'hem! made the naked bords my bed! A fagot for my pillow! hungred ſore! And thirſted after 'hem! To looke gaunt, and leane! Which will not be. (Who's that?) yes, and outwatcht, Yea, and out-walked any Ghoſt alive In ſolitarie circle, worne my bootes, Knees, armes, and elbowes out! Ran on the ſcore! That have I (who ſuggeſts that?) and for more Then I will ſpeake of, to abate this fleſh, And have not gaind the ſight; Nay ſcarce the ſenſe. (Voice, thou art right) of any thing but a cold Wind in my ſtomacke. And a kind of whimſie. Here in my head, that puts me to the ſtaggers, Whether there be that Brotherhood, or no. Beleeve fraile man, they be: and thou ſhalt ſee. What ſhall I ſee? Mee. Thee? Where? Here. If you Be Mr. Mere-Foole. Sir, our name is Mery-Foole. But by contraction Mere-foole. Then are you The wight I ſeeke: and Sr. my name is Jophiel, Intelligence to the Sphere of Jupiter, An aëry jocular ſpirit, employ'd to you From Father OVTIS. OVTIS? who is hee? Know yee not OVTIS? Then you know No body: The good old Hermit, that was ſaid to dwell Here in the forreſt without trees, that built The Caſtle in the aire, where all the Brethren Rhodoſtaurotick live. It flyes with wings, And runnes on wheeles: where Julian de Campis Holds out the brandiſht blade. Is't poſſible They thinke on mee? Riſe, be not loſt in wonder, But heare me, and be faithfull. All the Brethren Have heard your vowes, ſalute you, and expect you, By me, this next returne. But the good Father Has bin content to die for you. For mee? For you. Laſt New-yeares day, which ſome give out, Becauſe it was his Birth-day, and began The yeare of Jubile, he would reſt upon it, Being his hundred five and twentieth yeare: But the truth is, having obſerv'd your Geneſis, He would not live, becauſe he might leave all He had to you. What had he? Had? An office, Two, three, or foure. Where?