Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.80 · 548 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O rigorous judgement! O outrageous fate! Must I suruive the funerals of my fame? All things which I behold, upbraid my state, Too many monuments of one man's shame; All (and none more than I) my deeds detest, Yet some wail want of friends, and I of f●es, To purge the world of such a dangerons pest, (Which still contagious) must taint hearts with woes; To wound this breast where all hell's hosts do reign, Seized with just fear none dare a hand forth stretch, Else this base charge (as odious) do disdain, To deal with Death in favour of a wretch; Or must I yet (till more detested) stand, And fill the world with horror of my name? What further mischief can require my hand? Must it engrave on others graves my shame? Or would some bastard thought life's cause debate, Which in the blasted field of comfort gleans? No, no, in spite of Heaven I'll force my fate, One, when resolved to die, cannot want means: Proud Tyrant Death, and must thou make it strange, To wrap my wearied soul in further strife? Unless my courage with my fortune change, (Though nothing else) I can command my life; But this (ay me!) all hope of help devowres; What gains my soul by death in those sad times, If potent still in all her wont powers, She must remember of my odious crimes? What though un-bodied she the world forsake, Yet from her knowledge cannot be divorced? This will but vex her at the shadowy lake, Till even to groan the God of Ghosts be forced; But welcome death, and would the Gods I had Less famous, or more fortunately lived; Then known if good, and kept obscure if bad; Of comfort quite I had not been deprived; Ah! have I lived (unnatural I) to be My brother's murderer, who me dearly loved? Ah! have I lived with my own hands to kill A gallant Prince committed to my charge? And do I gaze on the dead body still, And in his father's sight my shame enlarge? Ah! have I lived whilst men my deeds do scan, To be the object of contempt and hate? Of all abhorred as a most monstrous man, Since thought a Traitouror (far worse) ingrate? Yet with my blood I'll wash away this stain, Which grief to you, to me disgrace hath brought, Would God my name from minds ●ight ●a●'d remain, To make my life as an unacted thought; Brave Atis now I come to plead for grace, Although thou frownest on my affrighted Ghost, And to revenge thy wrong this wound embrace; Thus, thus, I toil to gain the Stygian coast. Lo, how he wounds himself despising pain, With leaden lights, weak legs, and head declined, The body beats the ground, as in disdain, That of her members one hath proved unkind; The fainting hand falls trembling from the Sword, With his self slaughtering blow for shame grown red, Which strait the blood pursues, with vengeance stored, To drown the same with the same floods it shed; Who of those parties can the combat show, Where both but one, one both stroke and sustained? Or who triumphs for this most strange o'erthrow, Where as the victor lost, the vanquished gained?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1512–1577 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 46 in this edition
Length
548 words · 723 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.798 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O rigorous judgement! O outragious fate! Muſt I ſuruive the funeralls of my fame? All things which I behold, vpbraide my ſtate, Too many monuments of one mans ſhame; All (and none more then I) my deeds deteſt, Yet ſome waile want of friends, and I of fes, To purge the world of ſuch a dangerons peſt, (Which ſtill contagious) muſt taint hearts with woes; To wound this breſt where all hells hoſts do raigne, Seiz'd with juſt feare none dare a hand forth ſtretch, Elſe this baſe charge (as odious) doe diſdaine, To deale with Death in favour of a wretch; Or muſt I yet (till more deteſted) ſtand, And fill the world with horrour of my name? What further miſchiefe can require my hand? Muſt it ingrave on others graves my ſhame? Or would ſome baſtard thought lifes cauſe debate, Which in the blaſted field of comfort gleanes? No, no, in ſpite of Heaven I'le force my fate, "One, when reſolv'd to die, cannot want meanes: Proud Tyrant Death, and muſt thou make it ſtrange, To wrap my wearied ſoule in further ſtrife? Vnleſſe my courage with my fortune change, (Though nothing elſe) I can command my life; But this (ay me!) all hope of helpe devowres; What gaines my ſoule by death in thoſe ſad times, If potent ſtill in all her wonted pow'rs, Shee muſt remember of my odious crimes? What though un-bodied ſhe the world forſake, Yet from her knowledge cannot be divorc'd? This will but vexe her at the ſhadowie lake, Till even to grone the God of Ghoſts be forc'd; But welcome death, and would the Gods I had Leſſe famous, or more fortunately liv'd; Then knowne if good, and kept obſcure if bad; Of comfort quite I had not beene depriv'd; Ah! have I liv'd (unnaturall I) to be My brothers murtherer, who me dearely lov'd? Ah! have I liv'd with my owne hands to kill A gallant Prince committed to my charge? And doe I gaze on the dead bodie ſtill, And in his fathers ſight my ſhame enlarge? Ah! have I liv'd whilſt men my deeds doe ſcan, To be the obiect of contempt and hate? Of all abhorr'd as a moſt monſtrous man, Since thought a Traitouror (farre worſe) ingrate? Yet with my blood I'le waſh away this ſtaine, Which griefe to you, to me diſgrace hath brought, Would God my name from mindes ight a'd remaine, To make my life as an unacted thought; Brave Atis now I come to pleade for grace, Although thou frown'ſt on my affrighted Ghoſt, And to revenge thy wrong this wound embrace; Thus, thus, I toile to gaine the Stygian coaſt. Loe, how he wounds himſelfe deſpiſing paine, With leaden lights, weake legs, and head declin'd, The bodie beates the ground, as in diſdaine, That of her members one hath prov'd unkind; The fainting hand falles trembling from the Sword, With his ſelfe ſlaughtering blow for ſhame grown red, Which ſtraight the blood purſues, with vengeance ſtor'd, To drowne the ſame with the ſame floods it ſhed; Who of thoſe parties can the combat ſhow, Where both but one, one both ſtrooke and ſuſtain'd? Or who triumphs for this moſt ſtrange o'rethrow, Where as the victor loſt, the vanquiſh'd gain'd?