Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.81 · 511 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.
All famous (though infortunately, fell:) And since (provided for the Parthian war) His Army armed attends on his decree, Where we (sequestered from such forces far) Would (if suspected) soon prevented be: With some few friends whom all things to assay, A love to us, or to their Country binds, We to his wreak must walk another way, Whilst, ere our tongues, our hands do tell our minds: Now when most high, and therefore hated most, The gathered Senate seeks to make him King, We must go give the blow before we boast, And him to death, Rome out of bondage bring. In all this course I only one thing blame, That we should steal, what we may justly take, By clothing honour with a cloak of shame, Which may our cause (though good) more odious make. O! I could wish with honourable wounds To match Rome's enemy in the battle's dust: No sweeter Music than the Trumpets sounds, When right and valour keep a consort just: Then, free if quick, else dead, no harm more feared, I always so contentment might attain; What tomb to men more glorious can be reared, Then mountains made of foes whom they have slain? But how are my transported thoughts grown such, That they disdain a measure to admit? Whilst (bent not what to do, but to do much) On Glories Throne, Ambition strives to sit. No, to the State me from myself I give, Free from particulars, as who expose Fame, life, and all for it, and whilst I live, So Rome may gain, I care not what I lose. I'll never rest till he for ever rest, Who gives my Country such a cause of grief: And that to do no form I will detest, Nor for my fame endanger Rome's relief: But (worthy Cassius) ere we further do, Let our friends minds first well be understood, Of which I hope to have assistance too, Who will not venture for his Country's good? Now whilst my soul rests ravished in a trance, I think I see great Rome her courage raise, Then beat the air with songs, th'earth with a dance, And crown thy virtues with deserved praise. MY dearest half, my comfort, my delight, Of whom one smile may sweeten all my sow'rs: Thou in my bosom used to pour thy spirit, And where I was didst spare afflictions powers. When broils domestic did disturb thy rest, Then still (till finding) feigning some relief; Thou with calm words disguised a stormy breast, joys frankly sharing, and engrossing grief; Still tendering me with a respective care, What might offend, was by no means made known: But (with loves colours all things painted fair) What might have made me glad, was gladly shown. How comest thou then thy courage thus to lose, That thou canst look so sad, and in my sight? Lend me (dear Love) a portion of thy woes; A burden (when divided) doth grow light; I see the Roses fading in thy face, The Lilies languish, Violets take their place.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1306–1368 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 50 in this edition
Length
511 words · 667 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T2 — Roman politics: senate, consuls and civil warcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.812 (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)
All famous (though infortunately, fell:) And ſince (provided for the Parthian warre) His Armie arm'd attends on his decree, Where we (ſequeſtred from ſuch forces farre) Would (if ſuſpected) ſoone prevented be: With ſome few friends whom all things to aſſay, A love to us, or to their Country bindes, We to his wreake muſt walke another way, Whilſt, ere our tongues, our hands doe tell our mindes: Now when moſt high, and therefore hated moſt, The gathered Senate ſeeks to make him King, We muſt goe give the blow before we boaſt, And him to death, Rome out of bondage bring. In all this courſe I onely one thing blame, That we ſhould ſteale, what we may juſtly take, By cloathing honour with a cloake of ſhame, Which may our cauſe (though good) more odious make. O! I could wiſh with honourable wounds To match Romes enemy in the battels duſt: No ſweeter Muſicke then the Trumpets ſounds, When right and valour keepe a conſort juſt: Then, free if quicke, elſe dead, no harme more fear'd, I alwayes ſo contentment might attaine; What tombe to men more glorious can be rear'd, Then mountaines made of foes whom they have ſlaine? But how are my tranſported thoughts growne ſuch, That they diſdaine a meaſure to admit? Whilſt (bent not what to doe, but to doe much) On Glories Throne, Ambition ſtrives to ſit. No, to the State me from my ſelfe I give, Free from particulars, as who expoſe Fame, life, and all for it, and whilſt I live, So Rome may gaine, I care not what I loſe. I'le never reſt till he for ever reſt, Who gives my Country ſuch a cauſe of griefe: And that to doe no forme I will deteſt, Nor for my fame endanger Romes reliefe: But (worthy Caſsius) ere we further doe, Let our friends mindes firſt well be underſtood, Of which I hope to have aſſiſtance too, Who will not venture for his Countries good? Now whilſt my ſoule reſts raviſh'd in a trance, I thinke I ſee great Rome her courage raiſe, Then beat the ayre with ſongs, th'earth with a dance, And crowne thy vertues with deſerved praiſe. MY deareſt halfe, my comfort, my delight, Of whom one ſmyle may ſweeten all my ſow'rs: Thou in my boſome us'd to powre thy ſpright, And where I was didſt ſpare afflictions pow'rs. When broils domeſticke did diſturbe thy reſt, Then ſtill (till finding) faining ſome reliefe; Thou with calme words diſguiſ'd a ſtormy breſt, Ioyes frankly ſharing, and engroſſing griefe; Still tend'ring me with a reſpective care, What might offend, was by no meanes made knowne: But (with loves colours all things painted faire) What might have made me glad, was gladly ſhowne. How com'ſt thou then thy courage thus to loſe, That thou canſt look ſo ſad, and in my ſight? Lend me (deare Love) a portion of thy woes; "A burden (when divided) doth grow light; I ſee the Roſes fading in thy face, The Lilies languiſh, Violets take their place.