Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 514 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Since tyranny all liberty exiles, We must our sleves (no more ourselves) disguise; Then, learn to mask a mourning mind with smiles, And seem to like that which we most despise. Yet all our deeds not Caesar's humour please, Who (since mistrusting once) esteems us still, When dumb disdainful, flatterers when we praise, If plain, presumptuous, and in all things ill: Yea, we, whose freedom Caesar now restrains, As his attenders all his steps must trace; And know, yet not acknowledge his disdains, But still pretend an interest in his grace: Though all my thoughts detest him as a foe, To honour him, a thousand means I move, Yet but to save myself, and plague him so: No hate more harms than it that looks like love. His pride is by preposterous state grown such, That by the better sort, he is abhorred; The gods are jealous, and men envy much To see a mortal man so much adored. Well, Cicero let all means be entertained, That may embark us in his bosom's deeps, Till either willingly, or then constrained, He justly quite what he unjustly keeps. THis life of ours is like a Rose, Which whilst rare beauties it array, Doth then enjoy the least repose; When Virginlike make blush (we see) Of every hand it is the prey, And by each wind is blown away; Yea, though from violence scaped free, (Thus time triumphs, and leads all thralls) Yet doth it languish and decay: O! whilst the courage hottest boiles, And that our life seems best to be, It is with dangers compassed still; Whilst it each little change appals, The body, force, without oft foils, It th' own distemperature oft spoils, And even, though none it chance to kill, As nature fails, the body falls, Of which save death, nought bounds the joyless; What is this moving tower in whith we trust? A little wind closed in a cloud of dust. And yet some spirits though being penned In this frail prisons narrow bounds, (Whilst what might serve, doth not content,) Do always bend their thoughts too high, And aim at all the peopled grounds; Then whilst their breasts Ambition wounds, They feed as fearing strait to dye, Yet build as if they still might live, Whilst famished for fames empty sounds: Of such no end the travel ends, But a beginning gives, whereby They may be vexed worse than before; For, whilst they still new hopes contrive, The hoped good more anguish sends, Then the possessed contentment lends; As beasts not taste, but do devour, They swallow much, and for more strive, Whilst still their hope some change attends: And how can such but still themselves annoy, Who can acquire, but know not how t'enjoy? Since as a ship amidst the deeps, Or as an Eagle through the air, Of which no way th' impression keeps, Most swift when seeming least to move: This breath of which we take such care, Doth toss the body every where, That it may hence with haste remove: Life slips and sleeps always away,
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)
Since tyranny all liberty exiles, We muſt our ſleves (no more our ſelves) diſguiſe; Then, learne to maske a mourning minde with ſmiles, And ſeeme to like that which we moſt deſpiſe. Yet all our deeds not Caeſars humour pleaſe, Who (ſince miſtruſting once) eſteemes us ſtill, When dumb diſdainefull, flatterers when we praiſe, If plaine, preſumptuous, and in all things ill: Yea, we, whoſe freedome Caeſar now reſtraines, As his attenders all his ſteps muſt trace; And know, yet not acknowledge his diſdaines, But ſtill pretend an intereſt in his grace: Though all my thoughts deteſt him as a foe, To honour him, a thouſand meanes I move, Yet but to ſave my ſelfe, and plague him ſo: "No hate more harmes then it that lookes like love. His pride is by prepoſt'rous ſtate growne ſuch, That by the better ſort, he is abhorr'd; The gods are jealous, and men envy much To ſee a mortall man ſo much ador'd. Well, Cicero let all meanes be entertain'd, That may embarke us in his boſomes deepes, Till either willingly, or then conſtrain'd, He juſtly quite what he unjuſtly keepes. "THis life of ours is like a Roſe, "Which whilſt rare beauties it array, "Doth then enjoy the leaſt repoſe; "When Virgin-like make bluſh (we ſee) "Of every hand it is the prey, "And by each winde is blowne away; "Yea, though from violence ſcap'd free, "(Thus time triumphs, and leades all thrals) "Yet doth it languiſh and decay: "O! whilſt the courage hotteſt boiles, "And that our life ſeemes beſt to be, "It is with dangers compaſt ſtill; "Whilſt it each little change appalles, "The body, force, without oft foiles, "It th' owne diſtemp'rature oft ſpoiles, "And even, though none it chance to kill, "As nature failes, the body falles, "Of which ſave death, nought bounds the ioyles; "What is this moving Towr in whith we truſt? "A little winde clos'd in a cloud of duſt. And yet ſome ſprites though being pent In this fraile priſons narrow bounds, (Whilſt what might ſerve, doth not content,) Doe alwaies bend their thoughts too high, And ayme at all the peopled grounds; Then whilſt their breſts Ambition wounds, They feed as fearing ſtraight to dye, Yet build as if they ſtill might live, Whilſt famiſh'd for fames empty ſounds: Of ſuch no end the travell ends, But a beginning gives, whereby They may be vex'd worſe then before; For, whilſt they ſtill new hopes contrive, "The hoped good more anguiſh ſends, "Then the poſſeſs'd contentment lends; As beaſts not taſte, but doe devoure, They ſwallow much, and for more ſtrive, Whilſt ſtill their hope ſome change attends: "And how can ſuch but ſtill themſelves annoy, "Who can acquire, but know not how t'enjoy? Since as a ſhip amidſt the deepes, Or as an Eagle through the ayre, Of which no way th' impreſsion keepes, Moſt ſwift when ſeeming leaſt to move: This breath of which we take ſuch care, Doth toſſe the body every where, That it may hence with haſte remove: "Life ſlips and ſleepes alwayes away,