Cartwright, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1636 [Aug 30] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
You owe him, Sir, the honour of your Court; Slaves had defiled our Husbands beds, and we Brought forth a Race of unlike Children, to Blemish your Realm, and us; when now by him we're all preserved immaculate and spotless, As tender Votaries. Consider next, No heated rage hath snatched a sacred Goblet From any Altar, to profane it with The streams of bold intemperance; no cries Of Virgins came unto your Ears; you've lived This while as safe, as if you had been guarded By the revengeful Thunder. I may not Afflict him with a Curtsy; it can't be A Gift, that he must be compelled to take. 'Tis the best time to fall, when there are most Requests made for our preservation. Though, great Atossa, I could wish that your Blessed Prayers were spent in gaining a good peace For hopeful Ephesus. The Gods that do Require my ruin, would accept their safety. He durst not be so bold, unless h'were Innocent. Will you be so ungrateful then, Cratander, As after all to cast away yourself? Forbid him good Arsamnes, by these Tears I ask you:— but I am too womanish. Your Majesty is not Rock: you had a Nurse That was no Tiger; look but up upon her. Can you deny aught, when the Soul is poured Out at the eyes in a Petition? Cratander, live; we do command thee, Live. Bear witness o ye Gods, that I do suffer This as his Servant too. And ye the Souls Of my deceased Countrymen, who fell in the last Battle, if there yet be sense In the forgetful Urn, know that it was No stratagem of mine to be detained Thus long from your Society. Now to you, Arsamnes: Good Kings equal those in Laws Whom they have overcome in war; and to The Valiant, that chief part of good, to which We all are borne, sweet Liberty, is pleasing Ev'n in the Enemy. Your Queen, and others Her Ladies here, with the most beautiful Part of your Royal Court, are in my power. But far be't from me t'injure but the meanest: Only one life I'm so much Master of, (Since you have put it in my Power) that I Must give it back again, if it must be Beyond the Ephesian safety: the Altar comes More welcome than the Throne, if this shall bring Freedom to me, and Slavery to my City. Here I must dwell, Arsamnes, tied by great And solemn Vows, (our Gods do now require it) Till you shall grant that the Ephesians may Still freely use their ancient Customs, changing Neither their Rites nor Laws, yet still reserving This honest Power unto your Royal self, To command only what the free are wont To undergo with gladness. I presume You scorn to have them subject as your own, And vile as strangers, Tyrants conquer thus.
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)
You owe him, Sir, the honour of your Court; Slaves had defil'd our Husbands beds, and we Brought forth a Race of unlike Children, to Blemish your Realme, and us; when now by him Wee're all preserv'd immaculate and spotlesse, As tender Votaries. Consider next, No heated rage hath snatch'd a sacred Goblet From any Altar, to profane it with The streames of bold intemperance; no cryes Of Virgins came unto your Eares; you've liv'd This while as safe, as if you had beene guarded By the revengefull Thunder. I may not Afflict him with a Court'sie; it can't be A Guift, that he must be compell'd to take. 'Tis the best time to fall, when there are most Requests made for our preservation. Though, great Atossa, I could wish that your Blest Pray'rs were spent in gaining a good peace For hopefull Ephesus. The Gods that doe Require my ruine, would accept their safety. He durst not be so bold, unlesse h'were Innocent. Will you be so ungratefull then, Cratander, As after all to cast away your selfe? Forbid him good Arsamnes, by these Teares I aske you: ▪ but I am too womanish. Your Majestie is not Rock: you had a Nurse That was no Tyger; looke but up upon her. Can you deny ought, when the Soule is powr'd Out at the eyes in a Petition? Cratander, live; we doe command thee, Live. Beare witnesse ô yee Gods, that I doe suffer This as his Servant too. And yee the Soules Of my deceased Country-men, who fell in the last Battle, if there yet be sense In the forgetfull Urne, know that it was No stratagem of mine to be detayn'd Thus long from your Society. Now to you, Arsamnes: Good Kings equall those in Lawes Whom they have overcome in war; and to The Valiant, that chiefe part of good, to which We all are borne, sweet Liberty, is pleasing Ev'n in the Enemy. Your Queene, and others Her Ladyes here, with the most beautifull Part of your Royall Court, are in my pow'r. But farre be't from me t'injure but the meanest: Only one life I'm so much Master of, (Since you have put it in my Pow'r) that I Must give it backe againe, if it must be Beyond the Ephesian safety: the Altar comes More welcome than the Throne, if this shall bring Freedome to me, and Slav'ry to my City. Here I must dwell, Arsamnes, ty▪d by great And solemne Vowes, (our Gods do now require it) Till you shall grant that the Ephesians may Still freely use their antient Customes, changing Neither their Rites nor Lawes, yet still reserving This honest Pow'r unto your Royall selfe, To command only what the free are wont To undergoe with gladnesse. I presume You scorne to have them subject as your owne, And vile as strangers, Tyrants conquer thus.