Herbert, Mary Sidney / Garnier, RobertSidney Herbert, Mary · published 1595 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.67 · 460 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
In this our world nothing is steadfast found, In vain he hopes, who here his hopes doth ground. Yet nought afflicts me, nothing kills me so, As that I so my Cleopatra see practice with Caesar, and to him transport My flame, her love, more dear than life to me. Believe it not: Too high a heart she bears, Too princely thoughts. Too wise a head she wear Too much inflamed with greatness, evermore Gaping for our great empire's government. So long time you her constant love have tried. But still with me good fortune did abide. Her changed love what token makes you know? Pelusium lost, and Actium overthrow, Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet, And trusty Soldiers in my quarrel armed, Whom she, false she, in stead of my defence, Came to persuade, to yield them to my foe: Such honour there done, such welcome given, Their long close talks I neither knew, nor would, And treacherous wrong Alexas hath me done, Witness too well her perjured love to me. But you O Gods (if any faith regard) With sharp revenge her faithless change reward. The dole she made upon our overthrow, Her realm given up for refuge to our men, Her poor attire when she devoutly kept The solemn day of her nativity, Again the cost and prodigal expense showed when she did your birth day celebrate, Do plain enough her heart unfeigned prove, Equally touched, you loving, as you love. Well; be her love to me or false, or true, Once in my soul a cureless wound I feel. I Ioue: nay burn in fire of her love: Each day, each night her Image haunts my mind, herself my dreams: and still I tired am, And still I am with burning pincers nipped. Extreme my harm: yet sweeter to my sense Then boiling Torch of jealous torments fire: This grief, nay rage, in me such stir doth keep, And thorns me still, both when I wake and sleep. Take Caesar conquest, take my goods, take he Th'honour to be Lord of the earth alone, My sons, my life bent headlong to mishaps: No force, so not my Cleopatra take. So foolish I, I cannot her forget, Though better were I banished her my thought. Like to the sick whose throat the fevers fire Hath vehemently with thirsty drought inflamed, Drinks still, albe the drink he still desires Be nothing else but fuel to his flame. He cannot rule himself: his health's respect Yieldeth to his distempered stomachs heat. Leave of this love, that thus renews your woe. I do my best, but ah! can not do so. Think how you have so brave a captain been, And now are by this vain affection fallen.
Herbert, Mary Sidney / Garnier, RobertSidney Herbert, Mary
Publication year (edition)
1595
First performance / composition (Annals)
1590
First performance (BritDrama)
1590 [Nov]
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Translation;Nonprofessional;Closet/Unacted
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 187 · TCP A01502 · DEEP 146
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 881–939 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 13 of 29 in this edition
Length
460 words · 606 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.674 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
In this our world nothing is stedfast found, In vaine he hopes, who here his hopes doth ground. Yet nought afflicts me, nothing killes me so, As that I so my Cleopatra see Practise with Caesar, and to him transport My flame, her loue, more deare then life to me. Beleeue it not: Too high a heart she beares, Too princely thoughts. Too wise a head she weare Too much enflam'd with greatnes, euermore Gaping for our great Empires gouerment. So long time you her constant loue haue tri'de. But still with me good fortune did abide. Her changed loue what token makes you know? Pelusium lost, and Actian ouerthrow, Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet, And trusty Souldiors in my quarrell arm'd, Whome she, false she, in stede of my defence, Came to perswade, to yelde them to my foe: Such honor Thyre done, such welcome giuen, Their long close talkes I neither knew, nor would, And trecherous wrong Alexas hath me donne, Witnes too well her periur'd loue to me. But you O Gods (if any faith regarde) With sharpe reuenge her faithlesse change reward. The dole she made vpon our ouerthrow, Her realme giuen vp for refuge to our men, Her poore attire when she deuoutly kept The solemne day of her natiuitie, Againe the cost and prodigall expence Shew'd when she did your birth day celebrate, Do plaine enough her heart vnfained proue, Equally toucht, you louing, as you loue. Well; be her loue to me or false, or true, Once in my soule a cureles wound I feele. I Ioue: nay burne in fire of her loue: Each day, each night hir Image haunts my minde, Her selfe my dreames: and still I tired am, And still I am with burning pincers nipt. Extreame my harme: yet sweeter to my sence Then boiling Torch of iealous torments fire: This griefe, nay rage, in me such sturre doth keepe, And thornes me still, both when I wake and sleepe. Take Caesar conquest, take my goods, take he Th'onor to be Lord of the earth alone, My sonnes, my life bent headlong to mishapps: No force, so not my Cleopatra take. So foolish I, I cannot her forget, Though better were I banisht her my thought. Like to the sicke whose throte the feauers fire Hath vehemently with thirstie drought enflam'd, Drinkes still, albee the drinke he still desires Be nothing else but fewell to his flame. He cannot rule himself: his health's respect Yealdeth to his distempered stomacks heate. Leaue of this loue, that thus renewes your woe. I do my best, but ah! can not do so. Thinke how you haue so braue a captaine bene, And now are by this vaine affection falne.