Alexander, William · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 [1605-1607] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 491 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
And yet th'advancement by those captains had, Whom first my Ensigns did acquaint with fame, Doth make my soul a thousand times more sad, Than all the sufferings that the hell's can claim. O now I see what all my minions blinds, My funerals to perform that none takes pain, My state betraying me distracts their minds, That have forgot all love, but love to reign. But Ptholomie doth yet by time intend Back t Alexandria to transport me once: Not moved by love; no, for another end, In hope my fortune will attend my bones. And must I then so great a trouble have, That lately had all th'earth, and all th'earth's store, For some few foots of earth, to be a grave Which mean men get: and great men get no more? Though many a thousand at my sign did bow, Is this the end of all my conquests then, To be barred from that little circuit now, The benefit that's common unto men? But of it all that once was thrall to me, Lest that a little part my body bound, I think all th'earth my fatal bed should be, That still all confines scorned but the azure round. O blind ambition! great minds viperous brood, The scourge of mankind, and the foe to rest, Thou guilty art of many a millions blood, And whilst I reigned, didst reign within my breast. This to my soul but small contentment brings, That I some Cities reared, and others razed: And made Kings captives, captives to be Kings: Then whilst the wondering world did stand amazed, All that but now torments me after death, Which raised my fame on pillars, that were rare. O costly conquest of a little breath, Whose flattering sounds, both come and go with th'air! Can I be he that thought it a disgrace, Once to be made with other mortals even, That would be thought of an immortal race, The offspring of great Ioue, the heir of heaven? I by all means the people's minds did move, T'have Altars (as a god) with offerings stored; Till of his glory Ioue did jealous prove, All Princes should be reverenced, not adored. Ah whilst transported with a prosperous state, I toiled t'exalt my throne above the stars, That pride of mine, the thunderer bent t'abate, Did wound my fame with most infamous wars. Made I not grave Calistines to smart, That did disdain a dying flesh t'adore? And bent t'unknow my knowledge, by vain Art Though known a man sought to b'imagined more. All feared t'incur the danger of my wrath: Which as a sleeping Lion, none durst wake. Mine anger was the messenger of death, That many a time made armies all to quake. So much Ambition did my thoughts engage, That I could not abide my father's praise: But (though my friend) killed Clitus in a rage, That in my presence Philip's fame durst raise.
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)
And yet thaduancement by thoſe captaines had, Whom firſt my Enſignes did acquaint with ſame, Doth make my ſoule a thouſand times more ſad, Then all the ſufftings that the hels can claime. O now I ſee what all my minions blindes, My funerals to performe that none takes paine, My ſtate betraying me diſtracts their mindes, That haue forgot all loue, but loue to raigne. But Ptholomie doth yet by time intend Backe t Alexandrta to tranſport me once: Not mou'd by loue; no, for an other ende, In hope my fortune will attend my bones. And muſt I then ſo great a trouble haue, That lately had all thearth, and all thearths ſtore, For ſome few footes of earth, to be a graue Which meane men get: and great men get no more? Though many a thouſand at my ſigne did bow, Is this the end of all my conqueſts then, To be barrd from that little circuit now, The benefit thats common vnto men? But of it all that once was thrall to me, Leſt that a little part my body bound, I thinke all thearth my fatall bed ſhould be, That ſtill all confines ſcornd but the azure round. O blind ambition! great mindes viprous brood, The ſcourge of mankind, and the foe to reſt, Thou guiltie art of many a millions blood, And whilſt I raignd, didſt raigne within my breſt. This to my ſoule but ſmall contentment brings, That I ſome Cities reard, and others razd: And made Kings captiues, captiues to be Kings: Then whilſt the wondring world did ſtand amaz'd, All that but now torments me after death, Which raiſde my fame on pillars, that were rare. O coſtly conqueſt of alittle breath, Whoſe flattring ſounds, both come and go with th'aire! Can I be he that thought it a diſgrace, Once to be made with other mortalls euen, That would be thought of an immortall race, The of-ſpring of great Ioue, the heire of heauen? I by al1 meanes the peoples mindes did moue, T'haue Altars (as a god) with offrings ſtor'd; Till of his glorie Ioue did iealous proue, All Princes ſhould be reuerenc'd, not ador'd. Ah whilſt tranſported with a proſprous ſtate, I toyl'd t'exalt my throne aboue the ſtarres, That pride of mine, the thunderer bent t'abate, Did wound my fame with moſt infamous warres. Made I not graue Caliſtines to ſmart, That did diſdaine a dying fleſh t'adore? And bent t'unknow my knowledge, by vaine Art Though knowne a man ſought to b'imagin'd more. All fear'd t'incurre the danger of my wrath: Which as a ſleeping Lion, none durſt wake. Mine anger was the meſſenger of death, That many a time made armies all to quake. So much Ambition did my thoughts ingage, That I could not abide my fathers praiſe: But (though my friend) kill'd Clitus in a rage, That in my preſence Philips fame durſt raiſe.