Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1603 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 429 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Peace, peace Parmenio, now thou makest me rage, With those thy words not worthy of our ears; It seems the coldness of declining age Hath killed thy courage with a frost of fears: Did I abandon thee my native soil, And made my Ensigns shadow foreign fields, As feared for danger, or else flying toil, That I should turn whilst yet our foe not yields: Then all my labours, are but lost at last, Which have but bred an appetite of praise, That I might dye displeased, the time once past, When means remained, a state like Jove's, to raise▪ No, I will reign, and I will reign alone, Disdaining to admit of more Commanders: For (as the Heavens can hold no Sun but one) The Earth cannot contain two Alexanders; The spacious circuit of this peopled Round, Seems not sufficient to confine my thought, And, O, would God there could more worlds be found, That many might to grace our deeds be brought; O! I could wish that th'ocean were firm Land, Where none but hideous Giants had retreat, Such as at Phlegra field in strife did stand Against the gods for the ethereal seat: These could encourage martial minds to strike, Who when subdued, would yield eternal praise. I conquer men, but many did the like, And after-ages may my equal raise: But since none such my triumphs are to grace, Such as there are, I'll to subjection bring, And as a pest, I vow to fly all peace, Till all the world adore me for their King: Let them retire in time who danger dread, Yet think on this (whilst glory bend to wed) That ye abandoned me in time of need, And that I stayed to fight when as ye fled; Pass home in darkness, servile rest to find, I measure not my courage by my numbers. Your majesty doth much mistake my mind, You know what I endured, what cares, what cumbers; And for my part, I to your eyes appeal, Which well can witness what my hands have wrought. All what I spoke, proceeded of clear zeal, And not of cowardice, or fear of aught; Nor match I vile repose with honest pains, My courage (ofttimes tried) is not grown cold, Nor yet that vigour hath not left my veins, Which spurred my spirit in youth, though I be old. 'tis not enough, that you yourself be so, To be the same you should the rest exhort; Is he returned, who was ordained to go And view the captives? what doth he report?
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)
Peace, peace Parmenio, now thou mak'ſt me rage, With thoſe thy words not worthy of our eares; It ſeemes the coldneſſe of declining age Hath kill'd thy courage with a froſt of feares: Did I abandon thee my native ſoyle, And made my Enſignes ſhadow forraine fields, As fear'd for danger, or elſe flying toyle, That I ſhould turne whil'ſt yet our foe not yeelds: Then all my labours, are but loſt at laſt, Which have but bred an appetite of praiſe, That I might dye diſpleas'd, the time once paſt, When meanes remain'd, a ſtate like Ioves, to raiſe▪ No, I will raigne, and I will raigne alone, Diſdaining to admit of more Commanders: For (as the Heavens can hold no Sunne but one) The Earth cannot containe two Alexanders; The ſpatious circuit of this peopled Round, Seemes not ſufficient to confine my thought, And, O, would God there could moe worlds be found, That many might to grace our deeds be brought; O! I could wiſh that th'ocean were firme Land, Where none but hideous Gyants had retreat, Such as at Phlegra field in ſtrife did ſtand Againſt the gods for the etheriall ſeat: Theſe could encourage martiall mindes to ſtrike, Who when ſubdu'd, would yeeld eternall praiſe. I conquer men, but many did the like, And after-ages may my equall raiſe: But ſince none ſuch my triumphs are to grace, Such as there are, Ile to ſubjection bring, And as a peſt, I vow to flie all peace, Till all the world adore me for their King: Let them retyre in time who danger dread, Yet thinke on this (whil'ſt glory bent to wed) That ye abandon'd me in time of need, And that I ſtay'd to fight when as ye fled; Paſſe home in darkneſſe, ſervile reſt to finde, I meaſure not my courage by my numbers. Your majeſtie doth much miſtake my minde, You know what I endur'd, what cares, what cumbers; And for my part, I to your eyes appeale, Which well can witneſſe what my hands have wrought. All what I ſpake, proceeded of cleare zeale, And not of cowardice, or feare of ought; Nor match I vile repoſe with honeſt paines, My courage (oft-times try'd) is not grown cold, Nor yet that vigour hath not left my veines, Which ſpurr'd my ſprite in youth, though I be old. T'is not enough, that you your ſelfe be ſo, To be the ſame you ſhould the reſt exhort; Is he return'd, who was ordain'd to go And view the captives? what doth he report?