Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragedy T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.69 · 479 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
And have you then not heard, his death but proved The black beginning of a bloody Scene? His wife Panthea at the first not moved, Seemed as she had some marble image been; The body that had oft her fancies fired, She caused bear out of sight, still dear, though dead; But where the River ran, when once retired, She 'twixt her bosom's Rounds entombed his head; And then from Rage she borrowed some relief: For sorrow by degrees, a passage seeks, Vapouring forth sighs, which made a cloud of grief, A mighty storm of tears rained down her cheeks; Then, whilst her Eyes the wont object missed, With heavy looks resolving fatal haste, Pale senseless lips she prodigally kissed, With as great ardour then as in times past. I posted thither, bend to have relieved This Lady of a portion of her woes. Heaven bear me witness! I was greatly grieved, Who would to save one friend, spare hosts of foes, She first a space me passionately eyed, Then with those words, her lips did slowly move, My husband, lo, hath valorously died, As of your friendship, worthy of my love. My coming but increased griefs starving store: For, till that passion of itself expire, All kind of comfort but augments it more, Like drops of oil thrown on a mighty fire. A constant countenance though I strived to make, And what her woes diminish might, did tell; That comfort which I gave, I could not take, And scarcely could throw forth my last farewell; When I had left her but a little space, She did discharge the Eunuches from her sight, Then prayed her Nurse to bury in one place Her and her Lord, as they deserved of right; Last, looking on his corpse, she drew a sword, And even as if her soul had flown in him, (Pure snows in Crimson died) embraced her Lord, Whilst beauties blubbered Stars were waxing dim; Then bend to fall, when her they could not raise, (As scorning to survive their prosperous state) In emulation of their Lady's praise, The Eunuches did precipitate their fate. O sweet Panthea, rich in rarest parts, I must admire thy ghost though thou be gone! Who mightst have made a Monarchy of hearts, Yet loathed unlawful loves, and loved but one; O wondrous wonders, wonders wondrous rare! A woman constant, such a beauty chaste, A mind so pure, joined with a face so fair, With virtue beauty in one person placed; Both were well matched as any could devise, Whose death confirms the union of their life; He valorous, she virtuous, both wise, She worthy such a Mate, he such a wife. And Harpagus, lest that it should be thought, That of brave minds the memory may dye, 'Cause build a stately Tomb with Statues wrought, Where both their bodies with respect may lie.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 2398–2457 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 46 in this edition
Length
479 words · 628 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.689 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T24 · seed 44: T25 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And have you then not heard, his death but prov'd The black beginning of a bloudy Scene? His wife Panthea at the firſt not mov'd, Seem'd as ſhe had ſome marble image beene; The body that had oft her fancies fir'd, She caus'd beare out of ſight, ſtill deare, though dead; But where the River ranne, when once retir'd, She 'twixt her boſomes Rounds entomb'd his head; And then from Rage ſhe borrowed ſome reliefe: For ſorrow by degrees, a paſſage ſeeks, Vapouring forth ſighs, which made a cloud of griefe, A mighty ſtorme of teares rain'd downe her cheeks; Then, whil'ſt her Eyes the wonted object miſſ'd, With heavy looks reſolving fatall haſte, Pale ſenſeleſſe lips ſhe prodigally kiſſ'd, With as great ardour then as in times paſt. I poſted thither, bent to have releev'd This Lady of a portion of her woes. Heaven beare me witneſſe! I was greatly griev'd, Who would to ſave one friend, ſpare hoſts of foes, She firſt a ſpace me paſſionately ey'd, Then with thoſe words, her lips did ſlowly move, My husband, loe, hath valorouſly dy'd, As of your friendſhip, worthy of my love. "My comming but encreas'd griefes ſtarving ſtore: "For, till that paſſion of it ſelfe expire, "All kinde of comfort but augments it more, "Like drops of oyle thrown on a mighty fire. A conſtant count'nance though I ſtriv'd to make, And what her woes diminiſh might, did tell; That comfort which I gave, I could not take, And ſcarcely could throw forth my laſt farewell; When I had left her but a little ſpace, She did diſcharge the Eunuchs from her ſight, Then pray'd her Nurſe to bury in one place Her and her Lord, as they deſerv'd of right; Laſt, looking on his corps, ſhe drew a ſword, And even as if her ſoule had flown in him, (Pure ſnows in Crimſon dy'd) imbrac'd her Lord, Whil'ſt beauties blubbred Starres were waxing dim; Then bent to fall, when her they could not raiſe, (As ſcorning to ſurvive their proſp'rous ſtate) In emulation of their Ladies praiſe, The Eunuchs did precipitate their fate. O ſweet Panthea, rich in rareſt parts, I muſt admire thy ghoſt though thou be gone! Who might'ſt have made a Monarchy of hearts, Yet loath'd unlawfull loves, and lov'd but one; O wond'rous wonders, wonders wond'rous rare! A woman conſtant, ſuch a beauty chaſt, A minde ſo pure, joyn'd with a face ſo faire, With vertue beauty in one perſon plac't; Both were well match'd as any could deviſe, Whoſe death confirmes the union of their life; He valorous, ſhe vertuous, both wiſe, She worthy ſuch a Mate, he ſuch a wife. And Harpagus, leſt that it ſhould be thought, That of brave mindes the memory may dye, Cauſe build a ſtately Tombe with Statues wrought, Where both their bodies with reſpect may lye.