Townshend, Aurelian · published 1631 · first performed or written 1632 [Feb 14] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Was I a Lion! that am now afraid! I fear no danger; nor I fear no Death; But to be Retransformed, into a Beast: Which while I was, although I must confess, I was the Bravest: What could she do less, That saw me Subject, to no base desire: Yet was there in me, a Promethean fire, That made me covet to be man again, Governed by Reason, and not ruled by Sense. Therefore I shun this place of Residence, And fly to Virtue: in whose awful sight, She dares not come, but in a Mask, and crouch, As low as I did, for my liberty. Her Bower is pleasant, and her Palace Rich; Her Fare Delicious; and her Language fine; But shall the Soul, the Minion of the Gods, Stoop to her Vassals? Or stand by and starve, While they sit swelling, in her Chair of State? 'tis not her Rod, her Philters, nor her Herbs, (Though strong in Magic) that can bound men's minds; And make them Prisoners, where there is no wall. It is consent that makes a perfect Slave: And Sloth that binds us to Lusts easy Trades, Wherein we serve out our youth's Prenticeship, Thinking at last, Love should enfranchize us, Whom we have never, either served or known: He finds no help, that uses not his own. Dissembling Traitor, now I see the cause, Of all thy fawning, was but to be free: 'twas not for nothing, thou hadst teeth and claws, For thou hast made a cruel prey of me. Ingratitude is apt, to slink away, And shun that bounty which it cannot pay. And he is gone (ay me) is stolen from hence, And this poor Casket of my breast, hath left Without a Heart: that should for recompense, Have locked in two: O most inhuman theft! Send not your sighs, after a fickle mind, That Sails the faster for such Gales of wind. Then take my keys! and show me all my wealth. Lead me abroad! Let me my subjects view! Bring me some Physic! though that bring no health! And feign me pleasures, since I find none true. Ye willing servants! And ye Souls confined To several shapes, by powerful Herbs and Art, Appear, transformed each in your several kind, And strive to temper the distempered Heart, Of sullen Circe, stung with Cupid's dart. Not as myself, but as the brightest Star, That shines in Heaven, come to Reign this day. And these the Beams and Influences are Of Constellations, whose Planetic sway, Though some foresee, all must alike obey. Such a Conjunction, of auspicious lights, Meet but in Honour, of some Regal rights. Ladies! lend us your ears. And let no lover's sigh be heard! Or Suit, (though just) be now preferred A consort of the Spheres, Admits no whisper, nor no sound, But what is descant, to their ground: Nor can we hold ye long, For there are Stars to rise, That far above, our song Are Music to all eyes.
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)
Was I a Lyon! that am now afraid! I feare no danger; nor I feare no Death; But to be Retransform'd, into a Beast: Which while I was, although I must confesse, I was the Brauest: What could shee doe lesse, That saw me Subiect, to no base desire: Yet was there in me, a Promethean fire, That made me covet to be man againe, Govern'd by Reason, and not rul'd by Sense. Therefore I shunne this place of Residence, And flye to Vertue: in whose awfull sight, She dares not come, but in a Maske, and crouch, As low as I did, for my liberty. Her Bowre is pleasant, and her Palace Rich; Her Fare Delicious; and her Language fine; But shall the Soule, the Minion of the Gods, Stoope to her Vassalls? Or stand by and sterue, While they sit swelling, in her Chayre of State? Tis not her Rod, her Philters, nor her Herbes, (Though strong in Magicke) that can bound mens minds; And make them Prisoners, where there is no wall. It is consent that makes a perfect Slaue: And Sloth that binds us to Lusts easie Trades, Wherein we serue out our youths Prentiship, Thinking at last, Loue should enfranchize vs, Whome we haue neuer, either seru'd or knowne: He finds no helpe, that vses not his owne. Dissembling Traytor, now I see the cause, Of all thy fawning, was but to be free: T'was not for nothing, thou hadst teeth and clawes, For thou hast made a cruell prey of me. Ingratitude is apt, to slinke away, And shunne that bounty which it cannot pay. And he is gone (aye me) is stolne from hence, And this poore Casket of my breast, hath left Without a Hart: that should for recompence, Haue lockt in two: O most inhumane theft! Send not your sighes, after a fickle mind, That Sayles the faster for such Gales of wind. Then take my keyes! and shew me al my wealth. Leade me abroad! Let me my subiects view! Bring me some Physick! though that bring no health! And feyne me pleasures, since I finde none true. Yee willing servants! And ye Soules confin'd To severall shapes, by powerfull Herbes and Art, Appeare, transform'd each in your seuer all kind, And striue to temper the distemper'd Heart, Of sullen Circe, stung with Cupids dart. Not as my selfe, but as the brightest Starre, That shines in Heaven, come to Reigne this day. And these the Beames and Influences are Of Constellations, whose Planeticke sway, Though some foresee, all must alike obey. Such a Coniunction, of auspicious lights, Meete but in Honor, of some Regall rights. Ladies! lend vs your eares. And let no Louers sigh be heard! Or Suite, (though iust) be now prefer'd A consort of the Spheres, Admits no whisper, nor no sound, But what is descant, to their ground: Nor can we hold ye long, For there are Stars to rise, That farre aboue, our song Are Musicke to all eyes.