Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi · 513 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
Then hence, and as it came, goes bare, Whose steps behind no trace do leave; Why should heaven-banished souls thus love The cause, and bounds of their exile, As restless strangers where they stray? And with such pain why should they reave That which they have no right to have, Which with them in a little while, As summer's beauties must decay, And can give nought except the grave? Though all things do to harm him what they can, No greater enemy than himself to man; Whilst oft environed with his foes, Which threatened death on every side, Great Caesar parted from repose, (As Atlas holding up the Stars,) Did of a world the weight abide; But since a prey to foolish pride, More than by all the former wars, He now by it doth harmed remain, And of his fortune doth diffide. Made rich by many Nations wreak, He (breaking through the liquid bars) In Neptune's arms his Minion forced; Yet still pursued new hopes in vain: Would the ambitious looling back Of their inferiors knowledge take, They from huge cares might be divorced, Whilst viewing few, more power attain, And many more than they to lack: The only plague from men that rest doth reave, Is that they weigh their wants, not what they have. Since thus the great themselves involve In such a labyrinth of cares, Whence none to escape can well resolve, But by degrees are forward led, Through waves of hopes, rocks of despairs Let us avoid ambitions snares, And far from storms by envy bred, Still seek (though low) a quiet rest, With minds where no proud thought repairs, That in vain shadows doth delight; Thus may our fancies still be fed With that which Nature freely, gives; Let us iniquity detest, And hold but what we own of right; Th' eyes treasure is th' all-circling light, Not that vain pomp for which pride strives, Whose glory (but a poisonous pest) To plague the soul, delights the sight: Ease comes with ease, where all by pain buy pain, Rest we in peace, by war let others reign. NOw (Brutus) now we need no more to doubt, Nor with blind hopes our judgement to suspend, That flatterers credit (lo) is quite worn out; We must in time attempt, and not attend: That race of victors which did Realms appall, Ah (vanquished by their victories at last) Are by their too much liberty made thrall, Since all their strength but down themselves doth cast; And we who by our birth aimed at great things, Of the world's mistress mighty minions once, Who might have laboured to give laws to Kings, Laws from a King, must look for now with groans: For, such of Caesar is the monstrous pride, That though he domineers even at this hour, And to his Clients kingdoms doth divide With an unlimited tyrannic power; Yet of Dictator he disdains the name, And seeks a tyrant's title with the place, Not for his honour, no, but for our shame, As only bend brag of our disgrace.
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)
"Then hence, and as it came, goes bare, Whoſe ſteppes behinde no trace doe leave; Why ſhould heaven-baniſh'd ſoules thus love The cauſe, and bounds of their exile, As reſtleſſe ſtrangers where they ſtray? And with ſuch paine why ſhould they reave That which they have no right to have, Which with them in a little while, As ſummers beauties muſt decay, And can give nought except the grave? "Though all things doe to harme him what they can, "No greater enemie then himſelfe to man; Whilſt oft environ'd with his foes, Which threatned death on every ſide, Great Caeſar parted from repoſe, (As Atlas holding up the Starres,) Did of a world the weight abide; But ſince a prey to fooliſh pride, More then by all the former warres, He now by it doth harm'd remaine, And of his fortune doth diffide. Made rich by many Nations wreake, He (breaking through the liquid barres) In Neptunes armes his Minion forc'd; Yet ſtill purſu'd new hopes in vaine: "Would the ambitious looling backe "Of their inferiours knowledge take, "They from huge cares might be divorc'd, "Whilſt viewing few, more pow'r attaine, "And many more then they to lacke: "The onely plague from men that reſt doth reave, "Is that they weigh their wants, not what they have. Since thus the great themſelves involve In ſuch a labyrinth of cares, Whence none to ſcape can well reſolve, But by degrees are forward led, Through waves of hopes, rockes of deſpaires Let us avoyd ambitions ſnares, And farre from ſtormes by envy bred, Still ſeeke (though low) a quiet reſt, With mindes where no proud thought repaires, That in vaine ſhadowes doth delight; Thus may our fancies ſtill be fed With that which Nature freely, gives; Let us iniquity deteſt, And hold but what we owe of right; Th' eyes treaſure is th' all-circling light, Not that vaine pompe for which pride ſtrives, Whoſe glory (but a poyſnous peſt) To plague the ſoule, delights the ſight: "Eaſe comes with eaſe, where all by paine buy paine, "Reſt we in peace, by warre let others raigne. NOw (Brutus) now we need no more to doubt, Nor with blinde hopes our judgement to ſuſpend, That flatt'rers credit (loe) is quite worne out; We muſt in time attempt, and not attend: That race of victors which did Realmes appall, Ah (vanquiſh'd by their victories at laſt) Are by their too much liberty made thrall, Since all their ſtrength but down themſelves doth caſt; And we who by our birth aym'd at great things, Of the worlds miſtreſſe mighty minions once, Who might have labour'd to give lawes to Kings, Lawes from a King, muſt looke for now with grones: For, ſuch of Caeſar is the monſtrous pride, That though he domineers even at this houre, And to his Clients kingdomes doth divide With an unlimited tyrannicke pow'r; Yet of Dictator he diſdaines the name, And ſeekes a tyrants title with the place, Not for his honour, no, but for our ſhame, As onely bent bragge of our diſgrace.