Knevet, Ralph · published 1631 · first performed or written 1631 [May 3] (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Then oh ye powers, that are the grand protectors Of Hybla's happiness and welfare; Whether ye do delight in our flower-crowned mountains, Our odorous vales, or in our Crystal fountains, Your gracious favour I implore, beseeching you To guard the person of my dearest Rhodon; Fond woman, how forgetful have I been? Here is a gem whose price doth far transcend All estimation: my faithful Panace Delivered thou unto my gentle Shepherd, And pray him wear it for my sake. Madam, I will. It from the bowels of a Cock was ta'en, And whoso wears the same (as wise men say) Shall ever be victorious in war. Commend me to my brother, gentle nymph, And bear this token of my love to him: It is the precious herb called Latice, Which whosoever wears shall never want Sufficient sustenance both for himself and his; Besides, it frustrates quite the devilish force Of strongest poisons or enchantments. Now Iris, let us haste to Flora's fane, With our devotions let's importune her, These horrid stirs and troublous broils to cease, That we again may live in happy peace. DIvinest Matron; god-inspired Sibyl Do this, and be what thou canst desire. Doubt not great Martagon but I will effect it. Now dear Cynosbatus let us prepare To resist th'impression of our foes: Since that our powerful forces ready stand, To be obedient to our great command. With thee I am resolved to spend my breath, Indifferent in the choice of life or death. Agnostus come forth: black cloud of ignorance, Advance thy leaden pate, dull Camel. I cannot brook this thin and piercing air. Thou son of sleep; that hat'st the lightsome day, Clap on thy spectacles of judgement, and behold How I have played my part. Thou flowest with gall (Agnostus) I confess, But thou hast a brain intolerably dry, As empty of wit, as the world is of conscience. What hast plucked up the flowers by the roots, Or is all Thessaly in a combustion? Surcharged with deep despite and viperous hate, Their forces they against each other bend. Then I hope their painted pride shall quickly be abated. But I have a plot, old plumbeous dotard, To crop the proudest flower that grows In Hybla or Hymettus. Poneria, I adore thy art and wisdom. This glass contains a rare confection: 'tis viper's blood mixed with the juice of Aconite: This is the philtre, the sweet love-potion Which Eglantine poor love-sick fool, Must commend to the Shepherd Rhodon, Who this night by my appointment, Is to meet her in the myrtle grove, under the Name of Iris: now I'll to Eglantine, And bless her longing ears with these glad tidings. Oh great profound Poneria: never yet Was any that could parallel thy wit. WHat hour of night is't friend Acanthus? Th'eleventh at least: for see Orion hath Advanced very high his starry locks in our horizon. methinks the stars look very ruddy, As if they did portend tempestuous weather.
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)
Then oh ye powers, that are the grand protectors Of Hyblas happinesse and welfare; Whether ye doe delight in our flower-crown'd mountaines, Our od'rous vales, or in our Christall fountains, Your gracious favour I implore, besceching you To gard the person of my dearest Rhodon; Fond woman, how forgetfull have I bin? Here is a gemme whose price doth farre transcend All estimation: my faithfull Panace Deliver't thou unto my gentle Shepheard, And pray him weare it for my sake. Madam, I will. It from the bowels of a Cocke was tane, And whoso weares the same (as wise men say) Shall ever be victorious in warre. Commend me to my brother, gentle nymph, And beare this token of my love to him: It is the precious herbe call'd Latice, Which whosoever weares shall never want Sufficient sustenance both for himselfe and his; Besides, it frustrates quite the divellish force Of strongest poysons or enchantments. Now Iris, let us haste to Floras fane, With our devotions let's importune her, These horrid sturs and troublous broiles to cease, That we againe may live in happy peace. DIvinest Matron; god-inspired Sybill Doe this, and be what thou canst desire. Doubt not great Martagon but I will effect it. Now deere Cynosbatus let us prepare To resist th'impression of our foes: Since that our powerfull forces ready stand, To be obedient to our great command. With thee I am resolu'd to spend my breath, Indifferent in the choice of life or death. Agnostus come forth: blacke cloud of ignorance, Advance thy leaden pate▪ dull Camell. I cannot brooke this thin and piercing ayre. Thou sonne of sleepe; that hat'st the lightsome day, Clap on thy spectacles of iudgement, and behold How I have plaid my part. Thou flow'st with gall (Agnostus) I confesse, But thou hast a braine intolerably dry, As empty of wit, as the world is of conscience. What hast pluck'd up the flowers by the roots, Or is all Thessaly in a combustion? Surcharg'd with deepe despite and viprous hate, Their forces they against each other bend. Then I hope their painted pride shal quickly be abated. But I have a plot, old plumbeous dotard, To crop the proudest flower that growes In Hybla or Hymettus. Poneria, I adore thy art and wisedome. This glasse containes a rare confectign: Tis vipers bloud mix'd with the juyce of Aconite: This is the Philter, the sweet love-potion Which Eglnatine poore love-sick foole, Must commend to the Shepheard Rhodon, Who this night by my appointment, Is to meet her in the mirtle grove, under the Name of Iris: now Ile to Eglantine, And blesse her longing eares with these glad tidings. Oh great profound Poneria: never yet Was any that could parallell thy wit. VVHat houre of night is't friend Acanthus? Th'eleventh at least: for see Orion hath Advanced very high his starry locks in our horizon. Me thinks the stars looke very ruddy, As if they did portend tempestuous weather.