Davenant, William · published 1630 · first performed or written 1627 [licensed for stage, Jan 12] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
But yet observe (my Lucio) Th'unkind tricks of Nature: how we are fooled By a religious constancy in Love. A PRINCE's hate doth ruin where it falls: But his affection warmeth where it shines Until it kindle fire to scorch himself. If we are subject to the sin of Heaven, (Too much charity) extremity of love: Let there be mercy shown in punishment. Why is the corrupted use of Royal love Imputed to our charge, to our Audit laid? We that with all those Organs furnished are All those faculties natural in Men: Yet limited in use of each: prescribed Our conversation, by a saucy form Of State. How can we choose (by this restraint) But struggle more for liberty? make choice Of some one Ear; wherein to empty out our Souls, When they are full of busy thoughts; of plots Abortive, crude, and thin. 'tis cheap, and base For Majesty not to be singular In all effects. O then, if I must give my heart To the command of one: send him (sweet Heaven!) A modest appetite: teach him to know The stomach sooner surfeits with too much, Then starves for lack of that supply Which covetous Ambition calleth want. For when my Friend begs, my bounty then Concludes to make me poor before that he Shall so unthrifty be of breath to ask in vain. Distraction! tameness! O my Lucio. How canst thou construe this. After I have chid I seem to flatter thee. My gracious Lord!— Peace— I will no more employ my memory Thus to discourage thine. Where's forest! 'tis fit he know you are not vigilant In his behalf. Farelo de Sforza (My old Secretary) is newly dead: The place is his. I shall expect no thanks From you, nor yet from him: My bounty is requited in her choice. Your Grace will bring us both within the reach Of public envy. Thou now wouldst certify, His birth obscure and base discourageth Such earnest help to his so great promotion. Not a jot: Know my Boy! 'tis the vulgar, Not the Royal trade to patch up things: Or seek to mend what was before of quality Perfect enough itself. To make a Man Of nothing: why this same creation Inclines a little near Divinity. Near the old performance; which from Chaos Drew this multitude of subtle forms. Since you (the royal maker) do commend The metal, and your workmanship; it shows There's little skill in those which envy him. Foreste is your Creature. Many times I do acquaint him what the general voice Doth urge in his disgrace. He laughs it out And swears he would not lose that privilege Which Nature gave him by her kind mistake In his nativity, for the Sea's worth. As if from's Issue, he could ne'er deserve. A Monument, unless himself do hew The stones whereof 'tis built: unless he raise His Monument on a Wart; his dignity On poverty obscure and base.
seed 43: T14 · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But yet obſerue (my Lucio) Th'vnkind tricks of Nature: how we are fool'd By a religious conſtancy in Loue. A Princes hate doth ruine where it falls: But his affection warmeth where it ſhines Vntill it kindle fire to ſcorch himſelfe. If we are ſubiect to the ſinne of Heauen, (Too much charitie) extreamity of loue: Let there be mercy ſhewen in puniſhment. Why is the corrupted vſe of Royall loue Imputed to our charge, to our Audit layd? We that with all thoſe Organs furniſh'd are All thoſe faculties naturall in Men: Yet limitted in vſe of each: preſcrib'd Our conuerſation, by a ſawcy forme Of State. How can we chooſe (by this reſtraint) But ſtruggle more for liberty? make choiſe Of ſome one Eare; wherein to empty out our Soules, When they are full of buſie thoughts; of plotts Abortiue, crude, and thinne. T'is cheape, and baſe For Maieſtie not to be ſingular In all effects. O then, if I muſt giue my heart To the command of one: ſend him (ſweete Heauen!) A modeſt appetite: teach him to know The ſtomacke ſooner ſurfeits with too much, Then ſtarues for lacke of that ſupply Which couetous Ambition calleth want. For when my Friend beggs, my bounty then Concludes to make me poore before that he Shall ſo vnthrifty be of breath to aske in vaine. Diſtraction! tameneſſe! O my Lucio. How canſt thou conſter this. After I haue chid I ſeeme to flatter thee. My gracious Lord!— Peace— I will no more imploy my memory Thus to diſcourage thine. Where's Foreſte! T'is fit he know you are not vigilant In his behalfe. Farelo de Sforza (My old Secretary) is newly dead: The place is his. I ſhall expect no thankes From you, nor yet from him: My bounty is requited in her choice. Your Grace will bring vs both within the reach Of publique enuy. Thou now would'ſt certifie, His birth obſcure and baſe diſcourageth Such earneſt helpe to his ſo great promotion. Not a iot: Know my Boy! t'is the vulgar, Not the Royall trade to patch vp things: Or ſeeke to mend what was before of qualitie Perfect enough it ſelfe. To make a Man Of nothing: why this ſame creation Enclines a little neere Diuinitie. Neere the old performance; which from Chaos Drew this multitude of ſubtill formes. Since you (the royall maker) doe commend The mettall, and your workemanſhippe; it ſhewes There's little skill in thoſe which enuy him. Foreſte is your Creature. Many times I doe acquaint him what the generall voyce Doth vrge in his diſgrace. He laughs it out And ſweares he would not looſe that priuiledge Which Nature gaue him by her kinde miſtake In his natiuitie, for the Seas worth. As if from's Iſſue, he could ne're deſerue. A nument, vleſſe himſelfe doe hewe The ſtones whereof t'is built: vnleſſe he raiſe His Monument on a Wart; his dignitie On pouertie obſcure and baſe.