Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 [1605-1607] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 499 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
I wish that Soldiers never could be brought To prove so mutinous as they oft have been, And that they durst not violate in aught, Those who by them (as sacred) should be seen: Nor like I Captains who (like blustering winds) Would o'er their troops insult (as tyrants still), Not weighing merits, nor respecting minds, As carried headlong with a blinded will. Pride by presumption bred (when at a height) encountering with contempt both match in ire, And 'twixt them bring base cruelty to light, The loath-some offspring of a hated Sire. Such of Perdiccas was the monstrous pride, (The vice from which that vice more vile proceeds) That it strange ways for his advancement tried, And did burst forth in most prodigious deeds; At first by Meleager's death when stained, He showed what tyrants harboured in his heart, To whom faith given, nor yet the Church he gained, (Though sacred both) no safety could impart. The Cappadocians (when all else was tried) Choosed (rather than his insolence to bear) By massacring themselves to scape from pride: Pride, spite and horror, death breeds only fear. Yet what against his foes he did perform, From martial minds might plead for some excuse, Since irritated thoughts which (wronged) do storm, In minds offended, fury do infuse: But yet why sought he in a servile sort, To play the tyrant, braving his best friends, Who with disdainful forms could not comport? More than an enemy's yoke, a friends offends. And when of late by Ptolemy constrained, He brought his bands with disadvantage back, How by the same his government was stained, The world can witness by his Army's wrack: But hate made judge, each error seems a crime, Whilst present ills do aggravate things gone: His Soldiers moved by fortune and the Time, Did by his death venge all their wrongs in one. As nought smells well to a distempered taste, So to conceits pre-occupyed before; Even good seems bad in them whom they detest: Men must mislike where they can like no more. To you who loathed Perdiccas and his state, What ever came of him could not seem good: And I not wonder though your soul did hate One who had right and power, to take your blood: For, fled from him to whom you once belonged, His Trumpet still breathed terror in your ear: Then all men hate those whom they once have wronged, And by no means can love them whom they fear. That which you speak of hate, in love I spy, Love cannot find an imperfection forth, But doth excuse, extenuate, or deny, Faults (where it likes) with shadows of no worth: I left Perdiccas, but did him no wrong, Who first to take my life, all means did prove; I told Antipater how he so long Had been abused by a pretended love: For, as I frankly love, whilst loved again, If the ingrate, ingrately me acquit, Strait kindling fury with a just disdain,
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I wiſh that Souldiers never could be brought To prove ſo mut'nous as they oft have beene, And that they durſt not violate in ought, Thoſe who by them (as ſacred) ſhould be ſeene: Nor like I Captaines who (like bluſtring windes) Would o're their troupes inſult (as tyrants ſtill), Not weighing merits, nor reſpecting mindes, As carried head-long with a blinded will. "Pride by preſumption bred (when at a height) "Encount'ring with contempt both match in ire, "And 'twixt them bring baſe cruelty to light, "The loath-ſome off-ſpring of a hated Syre. Such of Perdiccas was the monſtrous pride, (The vice from which that vice more vile proceeds) That it ſtrange wayes for his advancement try'd, And did burſt forth in moſt prodigious deeds; At firſt by Meleagers death when ſtain'd, He ſhow'd what tyrants harbour'd in his heart, To whom faith given, nor yet the Church he gain'd, (Though ſacred both) no ſafety could impart. The Cappadocians (when all elſe was try'd) Choos'd (rather then his inſolence to beare) By maſſring themſelves to ſcape from pride: "Pride, ſpight and horrour, death breeds onely feare. Yet what againſt his foes he did performe, From martiall mindes might plead for ſome excuſe, Since irritated thoughts which (wrong'd) doe ſtorme, In mindes offended, fury doe infuſe: But yet why ſought he in a ſervile ſort, To play the tyrant, braving his beſt friends, Who with diſdainefull formes could not comport? "More then an enemies yoke, a friends offends. And when of late by Ptolomie conſtrain'd, He brought his bands with diſadvantage backe, How by the ſame his governement was ſtayn'd, The world can witneſſe by his Armies wracke: "But hate made judge, each errour ſeemes a crime, "Whilſt preſent ils doe aggravate things gone: His Souldiers mov'd by fortune and the Time, Did by his death venge all their wrongs in one. As nought ſmels well to a diſtemper'd taſte, "So to conceits pre-occupy'd before; "Even good ſeemes bad in them whom they deteſt: "Men muſt miſlike where they can like no more. To you who loath'd Perdiccas and his ſtate, What ever came of him could not ſeeme good: And I not wonder though your ſoule did hate One who had right and pow'r, to take your bloud: For, fled from him to whom you once belong'd, His Trumpet ſtill breath'd terrour in your eare: "Then all men hate thoſe whom they once have wrong'd, "And by no meanes can love them whom they feare. That which you ſpeake of hate, in love I ſpy, "Love cannot finde an imperfection forth, "But doth excuſe, extenuate, or deny, "Faults (where it likes) with ſhadowes of no worth: I left Perdiccas, but did him no wrong, Who firſt to take my life, all meanes did prove; I told Antipater how he ſo long Had been abus'd by a pretended love: For, as I frankely love, whilſt lov'd againe, If the ingrate, ingrately me acquite, Straight kindling fury with a juſt diſdaine,