The Wars of Cyrus, King of Persia · chunk 14 of 26
Anonymous · published 1594 · first performed or written 1588 [1587-1594] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.76 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
ay, say so till ye feel them Panthea. I feel more torments than thou canst invent, who add the more shall ease that I sustain, All torments be they never so exquisite, Are but ascending steps unto my end, And death tu Panthea is a benefit, what are thy threats but sugared promises. Then shalt thou live and I'll importune thee. ay, now is Panthea menaced to the proof. Yet every word thou speaks shall wound my heart, And in despite of thee I'll die at last, The earnester thou art the sooner too, But to prevent it thus I will fly from thee, Cyrus shall know Araspus' villainy. Thus therefore shall I pine, abandon love, O 'tis inherent to Araspas soul. And thereby claims an immortality. So it shall near begin, nor never end, A cursed Magician, are these thy wicked spells? O pardon me my honourable Lord, For Panthea's virtues frustrated all my art. Must Magic yield to virtue? wherefore then Didst thou assure me she should be in love; So was she being asleep, as did appear. And why not being wake, speak villain speak Reason my Lord was the predominant, Her intellectual part strived against love, and Magic cannot command the soul, while appetite and common sense remained, You saw I made her smile, embrace the air, and show the affects of amorous conceits, Few women use to skirmish with such thoughts, and had this Panthea been at liberty, she would have yielded to your honour's suit. But in captivity is nought but grief, and love with grief will keep no residence. Smooth are thy words, but rough and harsh thy sense, For they import Panthea cannot be forced. Canst thou with incantations make her die? That she being gone my love may follow her. Life is adjunct unto our human form, Exempt from Magic and magicians, And that's the cause we sooner hurt brute beasts, Than such as have the semblance of ourselves. Deceitful Artisan thy words are sleights, Thy words deceitful and full of guile, Wit is a witch, sweet words must conquer her, Out of my sight, yet conceal this attempt, If thou bewray it, maugre all thy skill, This sword shall send thee to eternal hell. Now are we at the banks of Euphrates, Far from the camp where soldiers haunt, and here may we under this poplar shade, Discourse upon the sweetness of our love. You know my Lord I am too young to love, Fair Alexandra, if thou love not me. Thou art compact of adamant and iron, Thy years are fit for love, so are thy looks, How fit soe'er my years be and my looks, I Alexandra am unfit to love. Is not my father with the Persian king, And I Alexendra as captive in his stead, And give me leave to wail my hard estate. and make a river with my flowing tears, That mingled with the stream of Euphrates, May swiftly run unto my father's seat, And make him haste to great Antiochus.
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I, ſay ſo till ye feele them Panthea. I feele more torments then thou canſt inuent, who adde the more ſhall eaſe that I ſuſtaine, All torments be they neuer ſo exquiſite, Are but aſcending ſteps vnto my ende, And death tu Panthea is a beneſite, what are thy threates but ſugred promiſes. Then ſhalt thou liue and Ile importune thee. I, now is Panthea menaced to the proofe. Yet euery word thou ſpeakes ſhall wound my heart, And in deſpite of thee Ile die at laſt, The earneſter thou art the ſooner too, But to preuent it thus I will flie from thee, Cyrus ſhall know Araſpus villanie. Thus therefore ſhall I pine, abandou loue, O t'is inherent to Araſpas ſoule. And thereby claimes an immortalitie. So it ſhall nere begin, nor neuer end, A curſed Magitian, are theſe thy wicked ſpels? O pardon me my honourable Lord, For Pantheas vertues fruſtrated all my art. Muſt Magicke yeeld to vertue? wherfore then Didſt thou aſſure me ſhe ſhould be in loue; So was ſhe being a ſleepe, as did appeare. And why not being wake, ſpeake villain ſpeake Reaſon my Lord was the predominant, Her intellectuall part ſtriued againſt loue, and Magicke cannot commaund the ſoule, while appetite and common ſenſe remained, You ſaw I made her ſmile, embrace the aire, and ſhew the affects of amorous conceits, Few women vſe to skirmiſh with ſuch thoughts, and had this Panthea beene at libertie, ſhe would haue yeelded to your honours ſute. But in captiuitie is nought but greefe, and loue with greefe will keepe no reſidence. Smooth are thy wordes, but rough and harſh thy ſenſe, For they import Panthea cannot be forced. Canſt thou with inchauntations make her die? That ſhe being gone my loue may follow her. Life is adiunct vnto our hamane forme, Exempt from Magicke and Magitians, And thats the cauſe we ſooner hurt brute beaſts, Then ſuch as haue the ſemblance of our ſelues. Deceitfull Artiſan thy words are ſleights, Thy wordes deceitfull and full of guile, Wit is a witch, ſweete words muſt conquer her, Out of my ſight, yet conceale this attempt, If thou bewray it, maugre all thy skill, This ſworde ſhall ſend thee to eternall hell. Now are we at the bankes of Euphrates, Farre from the campe where ſoul diers haunt, and here may we vnder this poplar ſhade, Diſcourſe vpon the ſweetneſſe of our loue. You know my Lord I am too yong to loue, Faire Alexandra, if thou loue not me. Thou art compact of adamant and yron, Thy yeares are fit for loue, ſo are thy lookes, How fit ſo ere my yeares be and my lookes▪ I Alexandra am vnfit to loue. Is not my father with the Perſian king, And I Alexendra as captiue in his ſtead, And giue me leaue to waile my hard eſtate. and make a riuer with my flowing teares, That mingled with the ſtreame of Euphrates, May ſwiftly runne vnto my fathers ſeate, And make him haſt to great Antiochus.