Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 510 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Let not your judgement thus from reason shrink, To gloze on that which simply comes from me; They who do freely speak, no treason think, One cannot both your friend and flatterer be. To us who Grecians are, the Gods do grant A moderate measure of an humble wit, So that our Country yet did never want Some whom the world for wise men did admit. And yet amongst us all the greatest number (Whilst living) look not for a perfect rest, Though Fortune's minions in her bosom slumber, And seem to some, whom this world blinds, most blessed: Yet o'er all mortal states, change so prevails, We alterations daily do attend, And hold this for a ground that never fails, None can be throughly blessed before the end: I may compare our state to table-plays, Whilst judges that are blind, give only light; Their many doubt the earnest mind dismays, Which must have happy throws, then use them right: So all our days in doubt, what things may chance, Time posts away, our breath seems it to chase, And when th'occasion comes us to advance, It of a thousand, one can scarce embrace. When by a generous indignation moved, Two fight with danger, for a doubtful praise; Whilst valour blindly, but by chance is proved, That one's disgrace, another's fame must raise: O! what a fool his judgement will commit, To grace the one, with a not gained applause? Where fortune is but to give sentence yet, Whilst bloody agents plead a doubtful cause: This world a field is, whereas each man fights, And armed with reason, resolutely goes To war, (till death close up the body's lights) Both with external, and internal foes; And how can he the Victor's title gain, Who yet is busied with a doubtful fight? Or he be happy who doth still remain In fortune's danger for a small delight? The wind-winged course of man, away fast wears, Course that consists of hours, hours of a day, Day that gives place to night, night full of fears: Thus every thing doth change, all things decay: Those who do stand in peace, may fall in strife, And have their fame by infamy suppressed: The evening crownes the day, the death the life; Many are fortunate, but few are blessed. I see this Grecians spirit but base appears, Which cannot comprehend heroic things: The world of him more than he merits hairs, At least he knows not what belongs to Kings: Yet fame his name so gloriously arrayed, That long I longed to have him in my house; But all my expectations are betrayed, I think a Mountain hath brought forth a Mouse. THis King hath put his trust in trustless toys, Whilst courting only temporary things, And like a hooded Hawk, gorged with vain joy: At random flies, born forth on follies wings: O how this makes my grief exceeding great, To see one's care, who lives for dead things such, Whilst shew-transported minds admire his state: Which I not envy, no, but pity much.
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)
Let not your judgement thus from reaſon ſhrinke, To gloſe on that which ſimply comes from me; "They who doe freely ſpeake, no treaſon thinke, "One cannot both your friend and flatterer be. To us who Grecians are, the Gods doe grant A moderate meaſure of an humble wit, So that our Country yet did never want Some whom the world for wiſe men did admit. And yet amongſt us all the greateſt number (Whil'ſt living) looke not for a perfect reſt, Though Fortunes minions in her boſome ſlumber, And ſeeme to ſome, whom this world blindes, moſt bleſt: Yet ov'r all mortall ſtates, change ſo prevailes, We alterations daily doe attend, And hold this for a ground that never failes, "None can be throughly bleſt before the end: "I may compare our ſtate to table-playes, "Whil'ſt Iudges that are blinde, give onely light; "Their many doubt the earneſt minde diſmayes, "Which muſt have happy throwes, then uſe them right: "So all our dayes in doubt, what things may chance, "Time poſts away, our breath ſeems it to chace, "And when th'occaſion comes us to advance, "It of a thouſand, one can ſcarce embrace. When by a generous indignation mov'd, Two fight with danger, for a doubtfull praiſe; Whil'ſt valour blindely, but by chance is prov'd, That ones diſgrace, anothers fame muſt raiſe: O! what a foole his judgement will commit, To grace the one, with a not gain'd applauſe? Where fortune is but to give ſentence yet, Whil'ſt bloudy agents plead a doubtfull cauſe: "This world a field is, whereas each man fights, "And arm'd with reaſon, reſolutely goes "To warre, (till death cloſe up the bodies lights) "Both with externall, and internall foes; "And how can he the Victors title gaine, "Who yet is buſied with a doubtfull fight? "Or he be happy who doth ſtill remaine In fortunes danger for a ſmall delight? "The wind-wing'd courſe of man, away faſt weares, "Courſe that conſiſts of houres, houres of a day, "Day that gives place to night, night full of feares: "Thus every thing doth change, all things decay: "Thoſe who doe ſtand in peace, may fall in ſtrife, "And have their fame by infamy ſuppreſt: "The evening crownes the day, the death the life; "Many are fortunate, but few are bleſt. I ſee this Grecians ſprite but baſe appeares, Which cannot comprehend heroicke things: The world of him more then he merits heares, At leaſt he knowes not what belongs to Kings: Yet fame his name ſo gloriouſly array'd, That long I long'd to have him in my houſe; But all my expectations are betray'd, I thinke a Mountaine hath brought forth a Mouſe. THis King hath put his truſt in truſtleſſe toyes, Whil'ſt courting onely temporary things, And like a hooded Hawk, gorg'd with vaine joye: At randon flyes, born forth on follys wings: O how this makes my griefe exceeding great, To ſee ones care, who lives for dead things ſuch, Whil'ſt ſhew-tranſported mindes admire his ſtate: Which I not envy, no, but pitty much.