Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
I owe this duty to your virtue's Madam. These Slaves must be repressed; the giddy People Are ready to transpose all crimes upon Him that should moderate them; so perhaps Their faults might be accounted mine. Besides Snares are laid close in every path for me; And if a King but stumble, 'tis a Precipice: When all eyes see't, a blemish is a Monster. Pure virtue then, and thou fair honour, give me Leave to contemplate on your Beauties; let The strength of my Imagination dwell Upon the sight of your Divinities. What? more temptations yet? ha? whence? from whom? The heavens I hope don't drop down follies too: No arm out of the clouds! a chain? why this Is but an Exprobration of my late Distressed fortune. 'Tis rich yet, and Royal; I' can't be the wealth of any, but the Throne. Fall out what will, I'll wear it, till I know From whence it came; and if it prove a Mettle That some foul drossy mind could not endure Should longer dwell with it, I then will cast it With as much scorn and anger from my shoulders, As now I do receive't with admiration. Look, there he walks alone considering; Let's to him while we may; good day Craetander. Good Hippias, Photion! you are welcome; how Dare you trust yourselves in an enemy's Court? We pass disguised to see what will become Of our Affairs; and being the future state Of Ephesus depends on you, are come Only to give you notice of it, for We do presume you're not to be entreated To do us good. Alas! I am not, after The period of three days; this makes the time Which even now I thought an age, seem short And too contract for my desires. When you Should raise your Country struggling in the dust, The time is short, and too contract; 'tis long Enough to lead an Army out against it, To crush those Relics of an half-life, that Her doubtful body faintly breaths; you may With that right hand spin three days to the space Of many Olympiads. What is your meaning? Have we endured the hate, and felt the fury Of violent Arsamnes so long? have we Suffered his sword until it did grow blunt, And rather broke, then wounded? have you tried The weight and strictness of the Persian chain So long, and ask us now, what is your meaning? Come, come Cratander, I could chide you, but That I believe you only hide the good That you intend your Country, that it may not Be disappointed; you may safely tell us You will betray the Persians into our hands, That we may gather forces, and prepare Against their coming. Oh! is this your Errant? Here, take your chain again, it cannot bind. howe'er don't exprobrate our Poverty, Though all our wealth hath been the Persians spoil. Why you threw't in before you, to make way Unto your Suit.
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)
I owe this duty to your vertues Madam. These Slaves must be repress'd; the giddy People Are ready to transpose all crimes upon Him that should moderate them; so perhaps Their faults might be accounted mine. Besides Snares are laid close in every path for me; And if a King but stumble, 'tis a Precipice: When all eyes see't, a blemish is a Monster. Pure vertue then, and thou faire honour, give me Leave to cōtemplate on your Beauties; let The strength of my Imagination dwell Uon the sight of your Divinities. What? more temptations yet? ha? whence? from whom▪ The heav'ns I hope don't drop downe follies too: No arme out of the cloudes▪ a chayne? why this Is but an Exprobration of my late Distressed fortune. 'Tis rich yet, and Royall; I 'cann't be the wealth of any, but the Throne▪ Fall out what will, I'le weare it, 'till I know From whence it came; and if it prove a Mettle That some foule drossy minde could not endure Should longer dwell with it, I then will cast it With as much scorne and anger from my shoulders, As now I doe receive't with admiration. LOoke, there he walkes alone considering; Let's to him while we may; good day Craetander▪ Good Hippias, Phocion! you are welcome; how Dare you trust your selves in an Enemies Court? We passe disguis'd to see what will become Of our Affayres; and being the future state Of Ephesus depends on you, are come Only to give you notice of it, for We doe presume you're not to be intreated To doe us good. Alas! I am not, after The period of three dayes; this makes the time Which even now I thought an age, seeme short And too contract for my desires. When you Should raise your Country struggling in the dust, The time is short, and too contract; 'tis long Enough to lead an Army out against it, To crush those Reliques of an halfe-life, that Her doubtfull body faintly breaths; you may With that right hand spin three dayes to the space Of many Olympiads. What is your meaning? Have we endur'd the hate, and felt the fury Of violent Arsamnes so long? have we Suffer'd his sword untill it did grow blunt, And rather broke, then wounded? have you try'd The weight and strictnesse of the Persian chayne So long, and aske us now, what is your meaning? Come, come Cratander, I could chide you, but That I beleeve you only hide the good That you intend your Country, that it may not Be disappointed; you may safely tell us You will betray the Persians into our hands, That we may gather forces, and prepare Against their comming. Oh! is this your Errant? Here, take your chayne againe, it cannot binde. How e're don't exprobrate our Poverty, Though all our wealth hath been the Persians spoyle. Why you threw't in before you, to make way Unto your Suit.