Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint · 489 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
For my chaste flames, which quenched were with thy breath, Can kindle now no more but in thy grave. By night I wish for day, by day for night, Yet wish far more, that none of both might be; But most of all, that banished from the light I were no more, their constant change to see. At night whilst deeply musing of my State, I go to sum with sighs my wont joys, An agony then (in a sad conceit) Doth blot the blubbered count with new annoys; When Sleep, the brother most resembling death, Of darkness child, and father unto rest, Doth bound (though not restrain) confused breath, That it may vent, but not with words expressed; Then with my spirit thou dost begin to speak, With sugared speeches to appease my grief; And my bruised heart which laboured long to break; Doth in this comfort feigned, find some relief; Yea, if our souls remained united so, This late divorce would no way vex my mind, But when awaking, it augments my woe▪ Whilst this a dream, and me a wretch I find. If never happy, O thrice happy I! But happy more had happiness remained, Yet then excessive joy had made me dye; Since such delights, what heart could have sustained? Why waste I thus, whilst vainly I lament, The precious treasure of that swift past-time? Ah, pardon me (dear love) for I repent My lingering here, my fate, and not my crime: Since first thy body did enrich the Tomb, In this spoiled world, my eye no pleasure sees, And Atis, Atis, Lo I come, I come, To be thy mate, amongst the Myrtle trees. lo all our time even from our birth, In misery almost exceeds: For, where we find a moment's mirth, A month of mourning still succeeds; Besides the evils that Nature breeds, Whose pains do us each day appall, Infirmaties which frailty sends, The loss of that which fortune lends; And such disasters as oft fall, Yet to far worse our states are thrall, Whilst wretched man with man contends, And every one his whole force bends, How to procure another's losses, But this torments us most of all: The mind of man, which many a fancy tosses, Doth forge unto itself a thousand crosses. O how the soul with all her might, Doth her celestial forces strain, That so she may attain the light Of nature's wonders, which remain Hid from our eyes! we strive in vain To seek out things that are unsure: In Sciences to seem profound, We dive so deep, we find no ground; And the more knowledge we procure, The more it doth our minds allure, Of mysteries the depth to sound; Thus our desire we never bound; Which by degrees thus drawn on still, The memory may not endure; But like the Tubs which Danaus' daughters fill, Doth drink no oftener then constrained to spill.
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)
For my chaſt flames, which quench'd were with thy breath, Can kindle now no more but in thy grave. By night I wiſh for day, by day for night, Yet wiſh farre more, that none of both might be; But moſt of all, that baniſh'd from the light I were no more, their conſtant change to ſee. At night whil'ſt deeply muſing of my State, I goe to ſumme with ſighes my wonted joyes, An agony then (in a ſad conceit) Doth blot the blubred count with new annoyes; When Sleep, the brother moſt reſembling death, Of darkeneſſe childe, and father unto reſt, Doth bound (though not reſtraine) confuſed breath, That it may vent, but not with words expreſt; Then with my ſprite thou doſt begin to ſpeake, With ſugred ſpeeches to appeaſe my griefe; And my bruis'd heart which labour'd long to breake; Doth in this comfort fain'd, finde ſome reliefe; Yea, if our ſoules remain'd united ſo, This late divorce would no way vexe my minde, But when awaking, it augments my woe▪ Whil'ſt this a dreame, and me a wretch I finde. If never happy, O thriſe happy I! But happy more had happineſſe remain'd, Yet then exceſſive joy had made me dye; Since ſuch delights, what heart could have ſuſtain'd? Why waſte I thus, whil'ſt vainely I lament, The pretious treaſure of that ſwift paſt-time? Ah, pardon me (deare love) for I repent My lingring here, my fate, and not my crime: Since firſt thy body did enrich the Tombe, In this ſpoil'd world, my eye no pleaſure ſees, And Atis, Atis, Loe I come, I come, To be thy mate, amongſt the Myrtle trees. "Loe all our time even from our birth, "In miſery almoſt exceeds: "For, where we finde a moments mirth, "A month of mourning ſtill ſucceeds; "Beſides the evils that Nature breeds, "Whoſe paines doe us each day appall, "Infirmaties which frailty ſends, "The loſſe of that which fortune lends; "And ſuch diſaſters as oft fall, "Yet to farre worſe our ſtates are thrall, "Whil'ſt wretched man with man contends, "And every one his whole force bends, "How to procure anothers loſſes, "But this torments us moſt of all: "The minde of man, which many a fancy toſſes, "Doth forge unto it ſelfe a thouſand croſſes. O how the ſoule with all her might, Doth her celeſtiall forces ſtraine, That ſo ſhe may attaine the light Of natures wonders, which remaine Hid from our eyes! we ſtrive in vaine "To ſeeke out things that are unſure: "In Sciences to ſeeme profound, "We dive ſo deepe, we finde no ground; "And the more knowledge we procure, "The more it doth our mindes allure, "Of myſteries the depth to ſound; "Thus our deſire we never bound; "Which by degrees thus drawn on ſtill, "The memory may not endure; "But like the Tubs which Danaus daughters fill, "Doth drinke no oftner then conſtrain'd to ſpill.