The Grateful Servant (The Faithful Servant) · chunk 20 of 38
Shirley, James · published 1630 · first performed or written 1629 [licensed for stage, Nov 3] (Annals) comedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
Go to the next religious house, and pray, Some Holy Father come and speak with me, But hasten thy return, I dare not look on Myself, lest I forget to do her honour, And my heart prove a partial advocate, I must not entertain with the same thought, Cleona and my love, lest my own passion Betray the resolution, I ha' made, To make my service famous to all ages, A legend that may startle wanton blood, And strike a chillness through the active veins Of noblest lovers, when they hear, or read, That to advance a Mistress, I have given her▪ From mine own heart, if any shall be so Impious at my memory, to say I could not do this act, and love her too, Some power divine, that knew how much I loved her, Some angel that hath care to right the dead, Punish that crime for me, and yet me thinks, In such a cause my own enraged Spirit, In pity of my ashes, so profaned, Should nimbly lift my sweeting marble up, And leap into my dust, which new enlivened Should walk to him, that questioned my honour, And be its own revenger, he is come. Welcome good Father, I sent to entreat your help, but first, pray tell me, I have no perfect memory, what Saint Gives title to your Order? We do wear The Scapular of Saint Bennet Sir. Your Charity Make you still worthy of that reverend habit, I have a great devotion, to be made A Brother of your sacred institution, What persons of great birth hath it received? To fashion my reply to your demand, Is not to boast, though I proclaim the honours Of our profession; four Emperors, Forty six Kings, and one and fifty Queens, Have changed their royal Ermines for our sables, These cowls have clothed the heads of fourteen hundred, And six King's sons, of Dukes, great Marquises, And Earls, two thousand and above four hundred Have turned their Princely Coronets, into An humble coronet of hair of hair▪ left by The razor thus. No, it is not. There is a sun ten times more glorious, Then that which riseth in the East, attracts me To feed upon his sweet beams, and become A Bird of paradise, a religious man To rise from earth, and no more to turn back, But for a burial. Think what 'tis you do, It is no thing to play the wanton with, In the strong bended passion of an humour, For a friends death, a King's frown, or perhaps Loss of a Mistress. O still bless the guide What ever, that shall lead this happy way. My Lord, the truth is like your coat of arms, Richest when plainest, I do fear the world Hath tired you, and you seek a cell to rest in, As birds that wing it o'er the Sea, seek ships, Till they get breath, and then they sly away.
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)
Goe to the next religious house, and pray, Some Holy Father come and speake with mee, But hasten thy returne, I dare not looke on My selfe, least I forget to doe her honour, And my heart prooue a partiall Aduocate, I must not entertaine with the same thought, Cleona and my Loue, least my owne passion Betray the resolution, I ha made, To make my seruice famous to all ages, A legend that may startle wanton bloud, And strike a chilnesse through the actiue veines Of noblest Louers, when they heare, or read, That to advance a Mistresse, I haue giuen her▪ From mine owne heart, if any shall be so Impious at my memory, to say I could not doe this act, and loue her too, Some power diuine, that knew how much I lou'd her, Some Angell that hath care to right the dead, Punish that crime for me, and yet me thinks, In such a cause my owne enraged Spirit, In pitty of my ashes, so prophan'd, Should nimbly lift my sweating marble vp, And leape into my dust, which new inlifen'd Should walk to him, that questioned my honor, And be its owne reuenger, he is come. Welcome good Father, I sent to intreat your helpe, but first, pray tell me, I haue no perfect memory, what Saint Giues title to your Order? Wee doe weare The Scapular of Saint Bennet Sir. Your Charity Make you still worthy of that reuerend habit, I haue a great Deuotion, to bee made A Brother of your sacred institution, What persons of great birth hath it receiu'd? To fashion my reply to your demaund, Is not to boast, though I proclaime the honours Of our profession; Foure Emperours, Forty sixe Kings, and one and fiftie Queenes, Haue chang'd their Royall Ermines for our sables, These Cowles haue cloth'd the heads of fourteene hundred, And sixe Kings Sonnes, of Dukes, great Marquises, And Earles, two thousand and aboue foure hundred Haue turn'd their Princely Coronets, into An humble Corronet of haire of haire▪ left by The Razour thus. No, it is not. There is a Sunne ten times more glorious, Then that which riseth in the East, attracts me To feed vpon his sweet beames, and become A Bird of Paradice, a religious man To rise from earth, and no more to turne backe, But for a buriall. Thinke what tis you doe, It is no thing to play the wanton with, In the strong bended passion of an humour, For a friends death, a Kings frowne, or perhaps Losse of a Mistresse. O still blesse the guide What euer, that shall leade this happy way. My Lord, the truth is like your coate of armes, Richest when plainest, I doe feare the world Hath tir'd you, and you seeke a cell to rest in, As Birdes that wing it o're the Sea, seeke ships, Till they get breath, and then they slie away.