Greville, Fulke · published 1633 · first performed or written 1600 [c.1598-c.1600] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thoughts! doe you blush? To Alaham what's ill? His death? Obarren wit, and sandie rage! No marble pillars, no enamells rich, Buried in silence, worne away with age, Are furies that no greater plagues deuise: Horrors they be that haue eternities. What saith my heart? Grow millions out of one? Doth passion leaue her infancie by vse? And shall I, by the death of Mahomet, More skill, at least more crueltie beget? Then let him die. But can I venture Caine, And leaue misfortune power ouer loue? Triumphs to Alaham, if both be slaine? Ah sleepy Sexe! how slow is their progression, That would exactly measure infinite, By tender feares, or minutes of delight? Then Hala, leaue this circle of selfe-loue. Beginne; goe on: hate must stride ouer feare. Who are secure, And nothing venture, all things must endure. For Alaham, that traytors ouerthrow, My rage is yet too yong to worke vpon: What to resolue of him I dare not thinke, Till this great frame, wherein our fortunes lie, Be surer linkt vnto prosperitie. Then shall occasion horrors strange deuise; Fooles only lose their ends to tyrannize. Princesse of me! I finde care in your face, Woe smothered vp; I came to know your will; Nothing which you command me can be ill. That which I least did feare is fall'n on me, Wrong and mishap; which needing others loue, Makes them vnlouely that vnhappy be. From Kings themselues when fortune turnes her face; Then need they most, yet least may vse their owne. So dearly Mans unthankfulnesse is knowne. What is the cause that makes you thus accuse The world of faults, your selfe of inward feare? The little faith which all the world doth vse; The iniuries which strength of heart must beare: Euui'd of all, if it be set aboue; If humble, then too low for men to loue. Doe not forsake your selfe: For they that doe, Offend, and teach the world to leaue them too. Mortall our God shall be; the truth shall lie; Darkenesse shall see her selfe; fame lose her voyce; Er'e I will leaue my loue, or my loue you: Afflictions wounds affection doe renew. Perchance you loue both those I hate, and me; Affections then against affection be. Perchance a vow, good turnes, and good beleefe Are mists betweene your loue, and my releefe. You know I loue: speake plaine, and doe not feare, That reason other is than kindnesse there. Then heare: and if my iudgement you disproue, You shall haue cause to thinke I trust, and loue. Mahomet the faultie is, his faults be these: Enuious of thee, to my loue treacherous; The King must lose his sight, his Crowne, his Sonne: This wickednesse hath Mahomet begunne. O hell! and is thy seate in fleshly hearts? Be mans ill thoughts his owne ill spirits become? I well can thinke that Mahomet aspires; For loue of greatnesse may with goodnesse goe: But cannot thinke that he our death conspires. Perchance he seekes to doe your brother Right, Which makes our owne desires to doe vs spite.
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)
Thoughts! doe you blush? To Alaham what's ill? His death? Obarren wit, and sandie rage! No marble pillars, no enamells rich, Buried in silence, worne away with age, Are furies that no greater plagues deuise: Horrors they be that haue eternities. What saith my heart? Grow millions out of one? Doth passion leaue her infancie by vse? And shall I, by the death of Mahomet, More skill, at least more crueltie beget? Then let him die. But can I venture Caine, And leaue misfortune power ouer loue? Triumphs to Alaham, if both be slaine? Ah sleepy Sexe! how slow is their progression, That would exactly measure infinite, By tender feares, or minutes of delight? Then Hala, leaue this circle of selfe-loue. Beginne; goe on: hate must stride ouer feare. Who are secure, And nothing venture, all things must endure. For Alaham, that traytors ouerthrow, My rage is yet too yong to worke vpon: What to resolue of him I dare not thinke, Till this great frame, wherein our fortunes lie, Be surer linkt vnto prosperitie. Then shall occasion horrors strange deuise; Fooles only lose their ends to tyrannize. Princesse of me! I finde care in your face, Woe smothered vp; I came to know your will; Nothing which you command me can be ill. That which I least did feare is fall'n on me, Wrong and mishap; which needing others loue, Makes them vnlouely that vnhappy be. From Kings themselues when fortune turnes her face; Then need they most, yet least may vse their owne. So dearly Mans unthankfulnesse is knowne. What is the cause that makes you thus accuse The world of faults, your selfe of inward feare? The little faith which all the world doth vse; The iniuries which strength of heart must beare: Euui'd of all, if it be set aboue; If humble, then too low for men to loue. Doe not forsake your selfe: For they that doe, Offend, and teach the world to leaue them too. Mortall our God shall be; the truth shall lie; Darkenesse shall see her selfe; fame lose her voyce; Er'e I will leaue my loue, or my loue you: Afflictions wounds affection doe renew. Perchance you loue both those I hate, and me; Affections then against affection be. Perchance a vow, good turnes, and good beleefe Are mists betweene your loue, and my releefe. You know I loue: speake plaine, and doe not feare, That reason other is than kindnesse there. Then heare: and if my iudgement you disproue, You shall haue cause to thinke I trust, and loue. Mahomet the faultie is, his faults be these: Enuious of thee, to my loue treacherous; The King must lose his sight, his Crowne, his Sonne: This wickednesse hath Mahomet begunne. O hell! and is thy seate in fleshly hearts? Be mans ill thoughts his owne ill spirits become? I well can thinke that Mahomet aspires; For loue of greatnesse may with goodnesse goe: But cannot thinke that he our death conspires. Perchance he seekes to doe your brother Right, Which makes our owne desires to doe vs spite.