Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1603 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 470 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
Those captived Princesses have pierced my soul, Which even amidst our heaven, have found a hell. His passions so what Stoic could control, Whom now to weep, their tears would not compel? What age could erst such stately beauties show, Which of perfection hold the highest place, And borne to bring, though now they be brought low, Do Beauty beautify, give Grief a grace? Sir, such a victory hath not been seen As you have gained, since conquering (as appears) The largest kingdom, and the fairest Queen, That Asia vaunted of, these many years. Durst Leda's, or Agenor's brood compare With that sweet Queen, the honour of her kind? But as she is above all others fair, As far her daughters make her go behind; It seemed at first that sorrow had been sleeping, Then whilst those Virgins in their Grand-dames bosom, With weeping beauty, and with beauteous weeping, Did with a hail of pearl, blast Beauty's blossom: So large a power, no Prince on Earth can have, As hath Love's Empire in their face confined. What, what. Hephestion, what doth thee deceive? Dare folly seek to brag so brave a mind? Dare Cupid enter in an armed Camp, And them who Mars have matched for sport appall? Must his soft seal even through hard metal stamp, And make who conquer men, to women thrall? We dare resist (whilst many a thousand dyes) The steely tempests of a world of men, But if from ivory orbs two Sunny eyes Do charge the soul (I know not how) O then A secret power (composed of hopes and fears) So charms the mind, that it strange thoughts conceives, And strait the heart (quassed drunk by th'eyes and th'ears) Doth staggering reel, and full of fancies raves. But yet, in my conceit, I scorn all such, And do disdain to yield myself at all; Yea, in that sort to bow I loathe so much, Let rather Mars then Cupid make me fall: Should I be bound with frail affections chains, As one oblivious of my former fame? No, no, this purpose still my soul retains, To balance nothing with a noble name; O! what a great indignity is this? To see a Conqueror to his lust a slave! Who would the title of true worth were his, Must vanquish vice, and no base thoughts conceive: The bravest Trophy ever man obtained Is that, which o'er himself, himself hath gained. I'm glad (my Sovereign) that as you excel, Not only men, but Mars himself in arms, That from your mind, you likewise may repel The flattering power of love's alluring charms, That virtue rare, whose rays shine in your words, With generous ardour doth inflame my soul, And o'er myself to me such power affords; That some brave deeds must strait this course control▪
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)
Thoſe captiv'd Princeſſes have pierc'd my ſoul, Which even amid'ſt our heaven, have found a hell. His paſſions ſo what Stoick could controull, Whom now to weep, their teares would not compell? What age could earſt ſuch ſtately beauties ſhow, Which of perfection hold the higheſt place, And borne to bring, though now they be brought low, Do Beauty beautifie, give Griefe a grace? Sir, ſuch a victory hath not beene ſeene As you have gain'd, ſince conquering (as appeares) The largeſt kingdome, and the faireſt Queene, That Aſia vaunted of, theſe many yeares. Durſt Leda's, or Agenors brood compare With that ſweet Queene, the honour of her kinde? But as ſhe is above all others faire, As farre her daughters make her go behinde; It ſeem'd at firſt that ſorrow had beene ſleeping, Then whil'ſt thoſe Virgins in their Grand-dames boſome, With weeping beauty, and with beauteous weeping, Did with a haile of pearle, blaſt Beauties bloſſome: So large a pow'r, no Prince on Earth can have, As hath Loves Empire in their face confin'd. What, what. Hepheſtion, what doth thee deceive? Dare folly ſeeke to bragge ſo brave a minde? Dare Cupid enter in an armed Camp, And them who Mars have match'd for ſport appall? Muſt his ſoft ſeale even through hard metall ſtamp, And make who conquer men, to women thrall? We dare reſiſt (whil'ſt many a thouſand dyes) The ſteely tempeſts of a world of men, But if from yvorie orbes two Sunnie eyes Do charge the ſoule (I know not how) O then A ſecret pow'r (compos'd of hopes and feares) So charms the minde, that it ſtrange thoughts conceives, And ſtraight the heart (quaſſ'd drunke by th'eyes and th'eares) Doth ſtaggring reele, and full of fancies raves. But yet, in my conceit, I ſcorne all ſuch, And do diſdaine to yeeld my ſelfe at all; Yea, in that ſort to bow I loath ſo much, Let rather Mars then Cupid make me fall: Should I be bound with fraile affections chains, As one oblivious of my former fame? No, no, this purpoſe ſtill my ſoule retaines, To ballance nothing with a noble name; O! what a great indignity is this? To ſee a Conquerour to his luſt a ſlave! "Who would the title of true worth were his, "Muſt vanquiſh vice, and no baſe thoughts conceive: "The braveſt Trophee ever man obtain'd "Is that, which ov'r himſelfe, himſelfe hath gain'd. I'm glad (my Soveraigne) that as you excell, Not onely men, but Mars himſelfe in armes, That from your minde, you likewiſe may repell The flatt'ring pow'r of loves alluring charmes, That vertue rare, whoſe rayes ſhine in your words, With generous ardour doth enflame my ſoule, And o're my ſelfe to me ſuch pow'r affords; That ſome brave deeds muſt ſtraight this courſe controule▪