Nabbes, Thomas · published 1637 · first performed or written 1635 (Annals) tragedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
Doubtless myself. What then Am I that conquered Hannibal? If I Had conquered Scipio, I had then been first. Did ever pride so swell th'infected parts Of a rich soul! Were not his mind corrupted With that disease of virtue, I should covet To join mine with't in an eternal fellowship; And only here in outward enmity Divide our bodies. How art satisfied? Am I yet safe? My observation Hath been I fear too curious: for your danger If any be intended wants all means Of opposition. But my fear perhaps Interprets worse than a consideration Will from the circumstance; which yet hath show Of probability. Why what hast seen? Armed troops guard all the passages by which The house is entered. I am then betrayed. Can Kings be treacherous? have they mortal parts Subject to that corruption stains with leprosy The glorious brow of honour! Can creation Be in her different works so negligent As not to perfect them? she's idle when She makes Kings, should be like gods, less than men. Prusias and Scipio, thus I mock your plots. Be treacherous now; you shall have nothing but Hannibal's earth to work on. What's the meaning Of this? 'tis poison surely that he takes. Restrain him. 'Tis too late. Call our Physicians. All help is vain as your conspiracy. It was no juggling sop to wrap the senses In slumbers like death, Colches never yielded A juice more baneful. I went still prepared Thus to o'ercome your malice; which discovered, My death bears me above it. Why should Hannibal From the weak warrant of a bare suspicion Be guilty of such barbarousness! By all The hopes I have of good men's loves, or memory 'Mongst their true valuing of desert, I ever Restrained m'uncertaine thoughts their liberty From being busy 'bout betraying Hannibal By any practice honour might not father, And gladly call his own. Persuade thy flatterers To credit it: Those that would deify The virtues in thy book, not of thy mind. Practice hath taught me how to read men's souls. Do not I know then thy hypocrisy Plasters the wounded credit of thy act! But if thou healst it, there will be a scar To show posterity that what thou didst Was full of base corruption. Thou didst much Lessen thyself in thy first fear; and now By the ill-grounded jealousy of my virtue Wilt make thy own taxed. From this Paedia I have been truly moral; th'institutions Have been my guides in every action Which I did either as a man, or Prince. Cyrus himself, to whom they were directed, Pursued them not so strictly as I have. Breath not thy soul forth then till thou art satisfied Of my true innocence: for if thou diest In thy suspicion, be assured it will Disturb thy peace hereafter, and thy ashes, As the pile hallows them, will fright thy ghost With shapes of the dishonour thou unjustly Would lay on Scipio.
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)
Doubtlesse my selfe. What then Am I that conquer'd Hanniball? If I Had conquer'd Scipio, I had then beene first. Did ever pride so swell th'infected parts Of a rich soule! Were not his mind corrupted With that disease of vertue, I should covet To joyne mine with't in an eternall fellowship; And onely here in outward enmity Divide our bodies. How art satisfy'd? Am I yet safe? My observation Hath beene I feare too curious: for your danger If any be intended wants all meanes Of opposition. But my feare perhaps Interprets worse than a consideration Will from the circumstance; which yet hath shew Of probability. Why what hast seene? Arm'd troupes guard all the passages by which The house is enter'd. I am then betray'd. Can Kings be trecherous? have they mortall parts Subject to that corruption staines with leprosie The glorious brow of honour! Can creation Be in her different workes so negligent As not to perfect them? Shee's idle when She makes Kings, should be like gods, lesse then men. Prusias and Scipio, thus I mock your plots. Be trecherous now; you shall have nothing but Hannibals earth to worke on. What's the meaning Of this? Tis poison surely that he takes. Restraine him. 'Tis too late. Call our Physitians. All helpe is vaine as your conspiracy. It was no juggling sop to wrap the senses In slumbers like death, Colches never yeelded A juyce more banefull. I went still prepar'd Thus to o'recome your malice; which discover'd, My death beares me above it. Why should Hannibal From the weake warrant of a bare suspition Be guilty of such barbarousnesse! By all The hopes I have of good mens loves, or memory 'Mongst their true valuing of desert, I ever Restrain'd m'uncertaine thoughts their liberty From being busie 'bout betraying Hanniball By any practise honour might not father, And gladly call his owne. Perswade thy flatterers To credit it: Those that would deifie The vertues in thy booke, not of thy mind. Practice hath taught me how to read mens soules. Doe not I know then thy hypocrisie Plasters the wounded credit of thy act! But if thou healst it, there will be a scarre To shew posterity that what thou didst Was full of base corruption. Thou didst much Lessen thy selfe in thy first feare; and now By the ill-grounded jealousie of my vertue Wilt make thy owne taxt. From this Paedia I have beene truely morall; th'institutions Have beene my guides in every action Which I did either as a man, or Prince. Cyrus himselfe, to whom they were directed, Pursu'd them not so strictly as I have. Breath not thy soule forth then 'till thou art satisfy'd Of my true innocence: for if thou dy'st In thy suspition, be assur'd it will Disturbe thy peace hereafter, and thy ashes, As the pile hallows them, will fright thy ghost With shapes of the dishonour thou unjustly Would lay on Scipio.