Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1604 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi · 513 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
Then weary to be well, and tired of rest, To waken trouble, I th'occasion sought; And yet to cloak the passions of my breast, Did with devotion long cloud what I thought: Of all the Oracles I did inquire What was to come of this intended war, Who said (as seemed to second my desire) That I a mighty Monarchy should mar. Those doubtful words I wresting to my will, In hope to break the haughty Persians powers, Did ruin quite (whilst all succeeded ill) What many a age had gained, even in few hours, And this may be admired as more than strange, I who disdained an equal of before, (What cannot Fortune do, when bend to change?) Then servants less, must dream content no more; What eye not big with scorn my state surveys, Whom all do pity now; or worse, do blame, And bound even to my foe for some few days, Which borrowed are with th'interest of my fame. Though this sweet gale of life-bestowing winds Would seem a favour (so it seems to some) Who by the baseness of their muddy minds Show from what vulgar stock their kind doth come; I scorn unlike myself thus to be seen, Though to my comfort this appeared to tend, As if misfortunes past had only been A Tragic entry to a Comic end. Of all that plague my State, what greater pest Then servile life, which faints from th'earth to part? And hath in one united all the rest To make me dye each day, yet live to smart; Life in my breast no comfort can infuse: An Enemies' gift could never come for good, It but gives time of misery to muse, And bathe my sorrows in a bitter flood: Ah! had my breath strait vanished with my bliss, And closed the windows that gave light to life, I had not borne (to misery submiss) The height of those mishaps, which now are rife: Whilst with a thousand sighs I call to mind The death of Atis, and mine own disgrace, In such an agony my soul I find, That life to death would willingly give place; But since I see reserved for further spite, I with sad thoughts must burden yet my soul, My memory to my distracted spirit Of all my troubles shall present a scroll, Of which, while as th'accounts I go to cast, When numbering my misfortunes all of late, I will look back upon my pleasures past, And by them balance my (now) hapless state. IS't not a wonder thus to see How by experience each man reeds In practised volumes penned by deeds, How things below inconstant be; Yet whilst ourselves continue free, We ponder oft, but not apply That precious oil, which we might buy, Best with the price of others pains, Which (as what not to us pertains) To use we will not condescend, As if we might the fates defy, Still whilst untouched our state reamines; But soon the heavens a change may send No perfect bliss before the end.
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)
Then weary to be well, and tyr'd of reſt, To waken trouble, I th'occaſion ſought; And yet to cloake the paſſions of my breſt, Did with devotion long cloud what I thought: Of all the Oracles I did enquire What was to come of this intended warre, Who ſaid (as ſeem'd to ſecond my deſire) That I a mightie Monarchie ſhould marre. Thoſe doubtfull words I wreſting to my will, In hope to breake the hauty Perſians pow'rs, Did ruine quite (whil'ſt all ſucceeded ill) What many a age had gain'd, even in few houres, And this may be admir'd as more then ſtrange, I who diſdain'd an equall of before, (What cannot Fortune do, when bent to change?) Then ſervants leſſe, muſt dreame content no more; What eye not bigge with ſcorne my ſtate ſurveyes, Whom all do pittie now; or worſe, do blame, And bound even to my foe for ſome few dayes, Which borrowed are with th'intreſt of my fame. Though this ſweet gale of life-beſtowing windes Would ſeeme a favour (ſo it ſeemes to ſome) Who by the baſeneſſe of their muddie mindes Shew from what vulgar ſtock their kinde doth come; I ſcorne unlike my ſelfe thus to be ſeene, Though to my comfort this appear'd to tend, As if misfortunes paſt had onely beene A Tragick entry to a Comick end. Of all that plague my State, what greater peſt Then ſervile life, which faints from th'earth to part? And hath in one united all the reſt To make me dye each day, yet live to ſmart; Life in my breſt no comfort can infuſe: "An En'mies gift could never come for good, It but gives time of miſery to muſe, And bathe my ſorrows in a bitter flood: Ah! had my breath ſtraight vaniſh'd with my bliſſe, And cloſ'd the windows that gave light to life, I had not borne (to miſery ſubmiſſe) The height of thoſe miſhaps, which now are rife: Whil'ſt with a thouſand ſighs I call to minde The death of Atis, and mine owne diſgrace, In ſuch an aony my ſoule I finde, That life to death would willingly give place; But ſince I ſee reſerv'd for further ſpight, I with ſad thoughts muſt buren yet my ſoule, My memory to my diſtracted ſpright Of all my troubles ſhall preſent a ſcroule, Of which, while as th'accounts I go to caſt, When numbring my misfortunes all of late, I will looke backe upon my pleaſures paſt, And by them ballance my (now) hapleſſe ſtate. "IS't not a wonder thus to ſee "How by experience each man reeds "In practis'd volumes penn'd by deeds, "How things below inconſtant be; "Yet whil'ſt our ſelves continue free, "We ponder oft, but not apply "That pretious oyle, which we might buy, "Beſt with the price of others paines, "Which (as what not to us pertaines) "To uſe we will not condeſcend, "As if we might the fates defie, Still whilſt untouch'd our ſtate reamines; But ſoon the heavens a change may ſend "No perfect bliſſe before the end.