Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Lo Artabazus, I have acted here My part of greatness, and my glass is run. Now patron's speech doth evident appear. I see my end, yet can it no way shun. The Bactrians only meddled have with this. Go to the Grecians camp, when that is done. And when your danger once divulged is, The Persians all will follow after soon. And what if I were gone to patron's Tent, And guarded with the Greeks as you desire: He hath but thousands four that are well bent; They thirty thousand that my fall conspire. And doing this I should their deed excuse, In giving them a motion who have might. They may indeed my lenity abuse: But by my deed they shall pretend no right. O deplorable Prince, who can but weep To see thee now reduced to this estate? Retire you all, and seek yourselves to keep: I here attend the issue of my fate. I know ye wonder all how I can stand, Down from the top of all contentment thrown, And not die desperately by mine own hand. I'll die through other's guilt, not through mine own. None of you all have falsified your troth, But with me loyal still to th'end ye abide. Now I you all disburden of your oath: Leave me alone, and for yourselves provide. O Wretched Monarchy, vain mortals' choice, The glorious step to a disgraceful fall: Our power depends upon the people's voice, And to seem sovereign needs we must serve all. Yet blown, like blathers, with ambition's wind, On envied sceptres weakly we rely: And calling not our frail estate to mind, Not only earth, but heavens themselves defy. This hellish hag our restless mind doth toss, While carried with a popular applause, T'enlarge our limits with our neighbour's loss, We of our own confusions are the cause. And when th'eclipse comes of our glories light, Then what avails th'adoring of our name: A mere illusion made to mock the sight, Whose best was but the shadow of a dream? Let greatness of her glass sceptres vaunt; Not sceptres, no, but reeds, soon bruised soon broken: And let this worldly pomp our wits enchant. All fades, and scarcely leaves behind a token. Those golden Palaces, those gorgeous halls, With furniture superfluously fair: Those stately Courts, those sky-encountering walls Evanish all like vapours in the air. O what affliction jealous greatness bears, That still must travel to hold others down; Whilst all our guards not guard us from our fears? So grievous is the burden of a Crown. Where are they all who at my feet did bow, While I was made the idol of so many? What joy had I not then? what have I now? Then honoured of all, now scarce of any. Our painted pleasures but apparel pain: We spend our days in dread, our lives in dangers, Balls to the stars, and thralls to Fortune's reign, Known unto all, yet to ourselves but strangers.
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Loe Artabazus, I haue acted heere My part of greatneſſe, and my glaſſe is run. Now Patrons ſpeech doth euident appeare. I ſee my end, yet can it no way ſhun. The Bactrians only medled haue with this. Go to the Graecians campe, when that is done. And when your danger once divulged is, The Perſians all will follow after ſoone. And what if I were gone to patrons Tent, And guarded with the Greekes as you deſire: He hath but thouſands foure that are well bent; They thirty thouſand that my fall conſpire. And doing this I ſhould their deede excuſe, In giuing them a motion who haue might. They may indeede my lenitie abuſe: But by my deede they ſhall pretend no right. O deplorable Prince, who can but weepe To ſee thee now reduc'd to this eſtate? Retire you all, and ſeeke your ſelues to keepe: I heere attend the iſſue of my fate. I knowe yee wonder all how I can ſtand, Downe from the top of all contentment throwne, And not die deſperately by mine owne hand. Ile die through others guilt, not through mine owne. None of you all haue falſified your troath, But with me loyall ſtill to th'end yee abide. Now I you all disburthn of your oath: Leaue me alone, and for your ſelues prouide. O Wretched Monarchie, vaine mortals choice, The glorious ſtp to a diſgrace-full fall: Our pow'r depends vpon the peoples voice, And to ſeeme ſoueraigne needs we muſt ſerue all. Yet blowne, like blathers, with ambitions winde, On enuied ſcepters weaklie we relie: And calling not our fraile eſtate to minde, Not onlie earth, but heauens themſelues defie. This helliſh hag our reſtleſſe minde doth toſſe, While carried with a popular applauſe, T'enlarge our limites with our neighbours loſſe, We of our owne confuſions are the cauſe. And when th'ecclipſe comes of our glories light, Then what auailes th'adoring of our name: A meere illuſion made to mock the ſight, Whoſe beſt was but the ſhaddow of a dreame? Let greatneſſe of her glaſcie ſcepters vaunt; Not ſceptours, no, but reeds, ſoone bruſ'd ſoone brokē: And let this worldlie pompe our wits inchant. All fades, and ſcarcelie leaues behinde a token. Thoſe golden Pallaces, thoſe gorgeous halles, With fourniture ſuperfluouſlie faire: Thoſe ſtatelie Courts, thoſe sky-encountring walles Evaniſh all like vapours in the aire. O what affliction iealous greatneſſe beares, That ſtill muſt trauell to hold others downe; Whil'ſt all our guardes not guard vs from our feares? So greevous is the burthen of a Crowne. Where are they all who at my feete did bowe, While I was made the idole of ſo many? What ioy had I not then? what haue I nowe? Then honoured of all, now ſcarce of any. Our painted pleaſures but apparrell paine: We ſpend our dayes in dread, our liues in dangers, Balles to the ſtarres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne, Knowne vnto all, yet to our ſelues but ſtrangers.