Renaissance Drama — Topics · seed 42

The Alexandraean Tragedy · chunk 38 of 54

Alexander, William · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 [1605-1607] (Annals)
tragedy
unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 503 words

← previous chunkall chunks of this editionnext chunk →

Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.

The world may judge how I was justly grieved, Whilst angry Philip sought for my disgrace, (A thing which once I scarce could have believed) And unto Cleopatra gave my place. Then though I long as desperate of relief, For his offence afflicted had my mind: Yet did his sudden death augment my grief, He was my husband, though he was unkind. And when my sons rare trophies, and renown, With wonder filled the world, and me with joy: Those as himself that strived to throw his down, Did to supplant my state their powers employ. Yet stood my courage when my fortune fell, And still I toiled distracted from repose: Those that had him betrayed from th'earth t'expel, And with their blood to register my woes. And my designs a time so prospered too, That some of them did try by torments strange, All what a woman's just disdain could do, Whilst spurred by jealousy, spite and revenge. But this arch-traitor ruler of the rest, That thirsts to drink the blood of all our race: Even then when my design succeeded best, Did compass me with ruin and disgrace. Such was the tenor of my fortune past, Whose least mishap had made another burst: First orphaned, widowed, and unchilded last, A daughter, wife, and mother all accursed. heavens plague Cassander, let that base wretch try, That Ioue his judgement but a while defers, And let his wife bewail as well as I, I murdered for my son, and she by hers. even as th'incestuous. Thehans monstrous brood, So may thy sons contend with mutual wounds: And never let thy house be free from blood, Till quite excluded from th'usurped bounds. Thus notwithstanding of my wonted power, To me, save wishes, nothing doth remain: But though condemned to die, yet at this hour Should I begin to curse, and to complain? No no, that custom best becomes poor souls, Whose resolution cannot climb more high: But I whose courage that base course controls, Must still triumph whatever state I try. Death is an open haven t'each storm-tossed mind, Since th'end of labour, th'entry unto rest: Death hath the bounds of misery confined, Whose sanctuary saves th'afflicted best. To suffer whiles with a courageous heart, It merits far more praise than deeds most known, For in our actions Fortune hath a part, But in our sufferings, all things are our own. Lo now I loath the world and worldly things, Of which I have both proved the best and worst: Yea th'apprehended death great comfort brings, And hath no cross but that it should be forced. O hear me now (dear son) if that thy ghost May leave th'Elysian fields to look on me: Of all things else this doth content me most, That from this time I may remain with thee. And blush not son to see thy mother's end, My death in glory with thy life shall strive: It Fortune as a captive shall attend, That as thy fellow followed thee alive.
← previous chunkall chunks of this editionnext chunk →

Details

Metadata, position in the edition, topic in the other seeds
PlayThe Alexandraean Tragedy
AuthorAlexander, William
Publication year (edition)1607
First performance / composition (Annals)1607 [1605-1607]
First performance (BritDrama)1607
Genre (British Drama)tragedy
Play typeCloset/Unacted;Nonprofessional
Edition / TCP / DEEPedition 608 · TCP A16527 · DEEP 5061.01
Edition roleRepresentative edition — used in the analysis
Positionnodes 2402–2465 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 54 in this edition
Length503 words · 660 tokens
Topic (seed 42)unassigned by HDBSCAN · nearest topic T1 — Death, grief and revenge at 0.760
Other seedsseed 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)
The world may iudge how I was iuſtly grieu'd, Whilſt angry Philip ſought for my diſgrace, (A thing which once I ſcarce could haue beleeu'd) And vnto Cleopatra gaue my place. Then though I long as deſprate of reliefe, For his offence afflicted had my minde: Yet did his ſodaine death augment my griefe, He was my husband, though he was vnkinde. And when my ſonnes rare trophees, and renowne, With wonder filld the world, and me with ioy: Thoſe as himſelfe that ſtriu'd to throw his downe, Did to ſupplant my ſtate their powres imploy. Yet ſtoode my courage when my fortune fell, And ſtill I toilde diſtracted from repoſe: Thoſe that had him betrayd from th'earth t'expell,, And with their blood to regiſter my woes. And my deſignes a time ſo proſperd too, That ſome of them did trie by torments ſtrange, All what a womans iuſt diſdaine could do, Whilſt ſpurr'd by iealouſie, ſpite and reuenge. But this arch-traitor ruler of the reſt, That thirſts to drinke the blood of all our race: Euen then when my deſigne ſucceeded beſt, Did compaſſe me with ruine and diſgrace. Such was the tenor of my fortune paſt, Whoſe leaſt miſ-hap had made another burſt: Firſt orphan'd, widdow'd, and vnchilded laſt, A daughter, wife, and mother all accurſt. Heauens plague Caſſander, let that baſe wretch trie, That Ioue his iudgement but a while deferres, And let his wife bewaile as well as I, I murderd for my ſonne, and ſhe by hers. Euen as th'inceſtuous. Thehans monſtrous brood, So may thy ſonnes contend with mutuall wounds: And neuer let thy houſe be free from blood, Till quite excluded from th'vſurped bounds. Thus notwithſtanding of my wonted powre, To me, ſaue wiſhes, nothing doth remaine: But though condemn'd to die, yet at this houre Should I beginne to curſſe, and to complaine? No no, that cuſtome beſt becomes poore ſoules, Whoſe reſolution cannot climbe more hie: But I whoſe courage that baſe courſe controules, Muſt ſtill triumph what euer ſtate I trie. Death is an open hauen t'each ſtorme-toſſde minde, Since th'end of labour, th'entrie vnto reſt: Death hath the bounds of miſerie confinde, Whoſe ſanctuarie ſaues th'afflicted beſt. To ſuffer whiles with a couragious heart, It merites farre more praiſe than deedes moſt knowne, For in our actions Fortune hath a part, But in our ſuffrings, all things are our owne. Loe now I loathe the world and worldly things, Of which I haue both proou'd the beſt and worſt: Yea th'apprehended death great comfort brings, And hath no croſſe but that it ſhould be forſt. O heare me now (deare ſonne) if that thy ghoſt May leaue th'Elyſian fields to looke on me: Of all things elſe this doth content me moſt, That from this time I may remaine with thee. And bluſh not ſonne to ſee thy mothers end, My death in glory with thy life ſhall ſtriue: It Fortune as a captiue ſhall attend, That as thy fellow followd thee aliue.