The Fortunate Isles and Their Union · chunk 5 of 6
Jonson, Ben · published 1641 · first performed or written 1625 [Jan 9] (Annals) masque · before the Court T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.68 · 512 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
The company o'the Rosy-crosse! you widgeon, The company of Players. Go, you are, And will be still yourself, a Mere-fool, In; And take your pot of honey here, and hog's grease, See, who has gulled you, and make one. Great King, Your pardon, if desire to please have trespassed. This fool should have been sent to Antycira, (The I'll of Ellebore) there to have purged, Not hoped a happy seat within your waters. Hear now the message of the Fates, and Jove, On whom those Fates depend, to you, as Neptune The great Commander of the Seas, and Iles. That point of Revolution being come When all the Fortunate Islands should be joined, MACARIA, one, and thought a Principal, That hitherto hath floated, as uncertain Where she should fix her blessings, is to night Instructed to adhere to your BRITANNIA: That where the happy spirits live, hereafter Might be no question made, by the most curious, Since the Macarij come to do you homage, And join their cradle to your continent. Look forth the Shepherd of the Seas, And of the Ports that keep the keys, And to your Neptune tell, MACARIA, Prince of all the Isles, Wherein there nothing grows, but smiles, Doth here put in, to devil. The winds are sweet, and gently blow, But Zephyrus, no breath they know, The Father of the flowers: By him the virgin violets live, And every plant doth odours give, As new, as are the hours. Than, think it not a common cause, That to it so much wonder draws, And all the heaven's consent, With Harmony to tune their notes, In answer to the public votes, That for it up were sent. I, now, the heights of Neptune's honours shine, And all the glories of his greater stile Are read, reflected in this happiest I'll. How both the air, the soil, the seat combine To speak it blessed! These are the true groves, Where joys are borne. Where long, And where loves! That live! That last! Not intermitted wind Blows here, but what leaves flowers, or fruit behind. 'Tis odour all, that comes! And every tree doth give his gums. There is no sickness, nor no old age known To man, nor any grief that he dares own. There is no hunger there, nor envy of state. Nor lest ambition in the Magistrate. But all are even-hearted, open, free, And what one is, another strives to be. Here all the day, they feast, they sport, and spring; Now dance the Grace's Hay; now Venus' Ring: To which the old Musicians play, and sing. There is ARION, tuning his bold Harp, from flat to sharp. And light Anacreon, He still is one! Stesichorus there, too, That Linus, and old Orpheus doth outdo To wonder. And Amphion! he is there. Nor is Apollo dainty to appear In such a choir, although the trees be thick, He will look in, and see the airs be quick, And that the times be true. Than, chanting, Than, Up, with their notes, they raise the Prince of Men.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 319–397 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 5 of 6 in this edition
Length
512 words · 719 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T12 — Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and Marscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.676 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T53 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The company o'the Roſie-Croſſe! you wigion, The company of Players. Goe, you are, And will be ſtill your ſelfe, a Mere-foole, In; And take your pot of honey here, and hogs greace, See, who has guld you, and make one. Great King, Your pardon, if deſire to pleaſe have treſpaſs'd. This foole ſhould have beene ſent to Antycira, (The Ile of Ellebore) there to have purg'd, Not hop'd a happie ſeat within your waters. Heare now the meſſage of the Fates, and Jove, On whom thoſe Fates depend, to you, as Neptune The great Commander of the Seas, and Iles. That point of Revolution being come When all the Fortunate Iſlands ſhould be joyn'd, MACARIA, one, and thought a Principall, That hitherto hath floted, as uncertaine Where ſhe ſhould fix her bleſſings, is to night Inſtructed to adhere to your BRITANNIA: That where the happie ſpirits live, hereafter Might be no queſtion made, by the moſt curious, Since the Macarij come to doe you homage, And joyne their cradle to your continent. Looke forth the Shepheard of the Seas, And of the Ports that keepe the keyes, And to your Neptune tell, MACARIA, Prince of all the Iſles, Wherein there nothing growes, but ſmiles, Doth here put in, to dwell. The windes are ſweet, and gently blow, But Zephirus, no breath they know, The Father of the flowers: By him the virgin violets live, And every plant doth odours give, As new, as are the howers. Then, thinke it not a common cauſe, That to it ſo much wonder drawes, And all the heavens conſent, With Harmony to tune their notes, In anſwer to the publike votes, That for it up were ſent. I, now, the heights of Neptunes honours ſhine, And all the glories of his greater ſtile Are read, reflected in this happieſt Ile. How both the ayre, the ſoyle, the ſeat combine To ſpeake it bleſſed! Theſe are the true groves, Where joyes are borne. Where longings, And where loves! That live! That laſt! No intermitted wind Blowes here, but what leaves flowers, or fruit behind. 'Tis odour all, that comes! And every tree doth give his gummes. There is no ſickneſſe, nor no old age knowne To man, nor any griefe that hee dares owne. There is no hunger there, nor envy of ſtate. Nor leaſt ambition in the Magiſtrate. But all are even-hearted, open, free, And what one is, another ſtrives to be. Here all the day, they feaſt, they ſport, and ſpring; Now dance the Graces Hay; now Venus Ring: To which the old Muſitians play, and ſing. There is ARION, tuning his bold Harpe, from flat to ſharpe. And light Anacreon, He ſtill is one! Steſichorus there, too, That Linus, and old Orpheus doth out-doe To wonder. And Amphion! he is there. Nor is Apollo dainty to appeare In ſuch a quire, although the trees be thick, He will looke in, and ſee the aires be quick, And that the times be true. Then, chanting, Then, Up, with their notes, they raiſe the Prince of Men.