Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.79 · 503 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
There, Adversaries (who did vainly vaunt) Had all th'advantage that the ground could give, Of victuals plenty, which with us were scant. Yet the celerity that you had used, Did so discourage their disordered band, That (as Iove in their breasts had fear infused) They had no strength against our strokes to stand. And when Rome's General with brave legions stored, Seemed to possess all that his soul required, Whilst us to daunt, both famine and the sword, The Sea, the Land, and all in one conspired; Then, for your offices they did contend, As those who of the victory were sure, And (where they might th'affairs of state attend) In Rome for lodgings fond did procure. Yet memorable now that day remains, When all the world was in two Armies ranged, Whilst Mars went raging through th' Aemathian plains, And to despairs high expectations changed; When Pompey's party had the battle lost; (As Lions do their prey) you did pursue The scattered remnant of that ruined host, On which new heads still (like a Hydra) grew Though victory in Africa fatal seemed To any Army that a Scipio led, Yet, you showed there (for worth in war esteemed) That Rome a better than a Scipio bred; And all our Enemies were confounded thus, Who us in number ever did surmount; But Caesar and his fortune were with us, Which we did more than many thousands count. The sweetest comfort which my conquests gave, Was that I so might do to many good: For, every day some Romans life I save, Who in the field to fight against me stood, Thus, may my mind be judged by the event, Who (even when by my greatest foes assailed) To win the battle never was more bend, Then prompt to pardon when I had prevailed. Not covetous of blood, of spoils, nor harms, I (even when victor) did insult o'er none, But laid aside all hatred with my Arms, A foe in fight, a friend when it was gone▪ Of clemency I like the praise, more than Of force, which mortals with affliction loads; Strength oft may prove the worst thing that's in men, And pity is the best thing in the Gods. Stern Cato (still affecting to be free) Who either death or life (if given) disdained, Thy death I envy, who didst envy me, The glory that I (saving thee) had gained. Yet I to Rents and dignities restore, Even those who long my ruin had designed: And O! it doth delight my mind far more, By benefits, then by constraint to bind. I would have all my foes brought to their ends, I rather have my foes all made my friends. Their blood whom I suspected should quench all strife. So might one do who liked of nought but life. Still life would be redeemed from dangers forth. Not with a ransom then itself more worth. Then life to man, what thing more dear succeeds? The great contentment that true glory breeds.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 447–509 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 8 of 50 in this edition
Length
503 words · 656 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T2 — Roman politics: senate, consuls and civil warcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.788 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
There, Adverſaries (who did vainly vaunt) Had all th'advantage that the ground could give, Of victuals plenty, which with us were ſcant. Yet the celerity that you had us'd, Did ſo diſcourage their diſordred band, That (as Iove in their breaſts had feare infus'd) They had no ſtrength againſt our ſtrokes to ſtand. And when Romes Generall with brave legions ſtor'd, Seem'd to poſſeſſe all that his ſoule requir'd, Whil'ſt us to daunt, both famine and the ſword, The Sea, the Land, and all in one conſpir'd; Then, for your offices they did contend, As thoſe who of the victory were ſure, And (where they might th'affaires of ſtate attend) In Rome for lodgings fondly did procure. Yet memorable now that day remaines, When all the world was in two Armies rang'd, Whil'ſt Mars went raging through th'Aemathian plaines, And to deſpaires high expectations chang'd; When Pompeys partie had the battell loſt; (As Lyons do their prey) you did purſue The ſcattred remnant of that ruin'd hoſt, On which new heads ſtill (like a Hydra) grew Though victory in Africke fatall ſeem'd To any Army that a Scipio led, Yet, you ſhew'd there (for worth in warre eſteem'd) That Rome a better then a Scipio bred; And all our Enemies were confounded thus, Who us in number ever did ſurmount; But Caeſar and his fortune were with us, Which we did more then many thouſands count. The ſweeteſt comfort which my conqueſts gave, Was that I ſo might do to many good: For, every day ſome Romanes life I ſave, Who in the field to fight againſt me ſtood, Thus, may my minde be judg'd by the event, Who (even when by my greateſt foes aſſail'd) To winne the battell never was more bent, Then prompt to pardon when I had prevail'd. Not covetous of bloud, of ſpoyls, nor harmes, I (even when victor) did inſult o're none, But layd aſide all hatred with my Armes, A foe in fight, a friend when it was gone▪ "Of clemency I like the praiſe, more then "Of force, which mortals with affliction lodes; "Strength oft may prove the worſt thing that's in men, "And pity is the beſt thing in the Gods. Sterne Cato (ſtill affecting to be free) Who either death or life (if given) disdain'd, Thy death I envy, who didſt envy me, The glory that I (ſaving thee) had gain'd. Yet I to Rents and dignities reſtore, Even thoſe who long my ruine had deſign'd: And O! it doth delight my minde farre more, By benefits, then by conſtraint to binde. I would have all my foes brought to their ends, I rather have my foes all made my friends. Their bloud whom I ſuſpect'd ſhould quench all ſtrife. So might one do who lik'd of nought but life. Still life would be redeem'd from dangers forth. Not with a ranſome then it ſelfe more worth. Then life to man, what thing more deare ſucceeds? The great contentment that true glory breeds.