May, Thomas · published 1639 · first performed or written 1626 (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Madam! Are all things ready in the tomb? Yes, Madam; Carmio's there and Mardio. Then thither will I go, if fate contrive A future state of happiness for me, It is my castle: if my death they doom, I am possessed already of a tomb. DEfeated are my troops, my fleet revolted, The Seas and Lands are lost; and nothing now Is left Antonius but a Roman hand, A sword and heart to die. You truest servants, Whose faith and manly constancy upbraids This wicked age, and shall instruct the next, Take from a wretched hand this legacy. Fortune has made my will, and nought but this Can I bequeath you. Carry it to Caesar; If he be noble, it contains enough To make you happier than Antonius can. My glass of life and Empire now is run, And from this hand expects a period. My Lord, take fairer hopes. Fie, fie, Lucilius; Lose not thy former merits in persuading A man, whom once thou lov'dst to such a shame As to prefer a loathed captivity Before a noble death. Thy looks speak grief Speak Erisychthon, where's the Queen? She's dead my Lord. When those unhappy tidings came to her Of your defeat, she straight shut up herself Within her tomb, and died. Oh Cleopatra, Why have I lingered thus, that thou a woman Shouldst teach so old a soldier how to die? Fortune, I blame not thee; I have enjoyed What thou couldst give, and on the envied top Of thy proud wheel have long unshaken stood. Whom Kings have served, and Rome herself obeyed; Whom all the Zones of earth's diffused Globe, That know inhabitants, have known, and feared. Nor is my fall so much degenerate. My strength no arms but Roman arms subdue, Plutarch. And none, but Monarch of the world succeeds. Glutted with life and Empire now I go Free and undaunted to the shades below. Here Erisychthon, take this sword, perform the promise Which thou hast made, to kill me whensoe'er I should command: make no reply in words. I will be true or die. Stand fair; your Erisychthon Will be your Usher to th'elysian fields. What hast thou done unfaithful faithful Erisychthon Too kindly cruel, falsely virtuous? I'll trust no more, to be no more directed By such examples: but we must be speedy. The gates ere this time are set ope to Caesar. Fair Cleopatra, I am coming now To dwell with thee, and ever to behold Thy heavenly figure, where nor time nor death Shall make divorce of our eternal loves. Thus, thus I come to thee: unfaithful sword, I never knew thee slow in giving death Till this sad hour, some friendly hand lend aid, And with another wound release my soul. Where is my Lord Antonius? Oh sad sight The Queen enclosed in her tomb desired To take her last leave of you.
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)
Madam! Are all things readie in the tombe? Yes, Madam; Carmi's there and Mario. Then thither will I go, if fate contrive A future ſtate of happineſſe for me, It is my caſtle: if my death they doom, I am poſſeſt already of a tombe. DEfeated are my troops, my fleet revolted, The Seas and Lands are loſt; and nothing now Is left Antonius but a Roman hand, A ſword and heart to die. You trueſt ſervants, Whoſe faith and manly conſtancie upbraids This wicked age, and ſhall inſtruct the next, Take from a wretched hand this legacie. Fortune has made my will, and nought but this Can I bequeath you. Carry it to Caeſar; If he be noble, it contains enough To make you happier then Antonius can. My glaſſe of life and Empire now is run, And from this hand expects a period. My Lord, take fairer hopes. Fie, fie, Lucilius; Loſe not thy former merits in perſwading A man, whom once thou lov'dſt to ſuch a ſhame As to preferre a loath'd captivity Before a noble death. Thy looks ſpeak grief Speak Eros, wher's the Queen? She's dead my Lord. When thoſe unhappy tydings came to her Of your defeat, ſhe ſtraight ſhut up her ſelf Within her tombe, and dy'd. Oh Cleopatra, Why have I lingred thus, that thou a woman Should'ſt teach ſo old a ſouldier how to die? Fortune, I blame not thee; I have enjoy'd What thou could'ſt give, and on the envy'd top Of thy proud wheel have long unſhaken ſtood. Whom Kings have ſerv'd, and Rome her ſelf obey'd; Whom all the Zones of earths diffuſed Globe, That know inhabitants, have known, and fear'd. Nor is my fall ſo much degenerate. My ſtrength no arms but Roman arms ſubdue, Plutarch. And none, but Monarch of the world ſucceeds. Glutted with life and Empire now I go Free and undaunted to the ſhades below. Here Eros, take this ſword, perform the promiſe Which thou haſt made, to kill me whenſoere I ſhould command: make no reply in words. I will be true or die. Stand fair; your Eros Will be your Uſher to th'Elizian fields. What haſt thou done unfaithfull faithfull Eros Too kindly cruell, falſly vertuous? I'll truſt no more, to be no more directed By ſuch examples: but we muſt be ſpeedie. The gates ere this time are ſet ope to Caeſar. Fair Cleopatra, I am comming now To dwell with thee, and ever to behold Thy heavenly figure, where nor time nor death Shall make divorce of our eternall loves. Thus, thus I come to thee: unfaithfull ſword▪ I never knew thee ſlow in giving death Till this ſad houre, ſome friendly hand lend aid▪ And with another wound releaſe my ſoule. Where is my Lord Antonius? Oh ſad ſight The Queen encloſed in her tombe deſir'd To take her laſt leave of you.