Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 523 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.
Whilst of our band the fury flames most hot, And that their will to end this work is such, Lest Caesar's absence disappoint the plot, Which would of some abate the courage much; It (Decius) were exceedingly well done, That to his lodging you addressed your way, Him by all means to further forward soon, Lest him some sudden chance may move to stay. There, where the Senate minds this day to sit, Stand all prepared, not fearing danger more, And for the Sacrifice when all is fit, I'll bring an offering hallowed of before. LOng-lookt-for Time that should the glory yield, Which I through Neptune's trustless reign have sought; And through the dust of many a bloody field, As by all dangers worthy to be bought. Thy coming now those lowering shadows clears, My hopes horizon which did long o'ercast; This day defrays the toils of many years, And brings the harvest of my labours past. The Senators a Messenger have sent Most earnestly entreating me to come And hear myself discerned by their consent To wear a Crown o'er all, excepting Rome; Thus, they devise conditions at this hour For him, of whom Mars hath made them the prey, As Subjects limit could their Sovereign's power, Who must have mind of nought but to obey; But having pacified those present things, I mind to lead my valorous legions forth To th' oriental Realms (adoring Kings) Who can afford all that is due to worth. Then swim my thoughts in th' ocean of delight, Whilst on the pillow of soft praise reposed; Those eyes to gaze upon my glories light, Which Envy opened, Admiration closed. Ah, though your fancies great contentment find, Whilst thus the world your virtue doth advance; Yet a preposterous terror stings my mind, And brags me with I know not what mischance; My wavering hopes o're-ballanced are with fears, Which to my soul sinistrous signs impart; And om'nous rumours so assault mine eats, That they almost make breaches in my heart. What? do foiled Pompey's floating followers strive To recollect their ruins from the dust? Dare they who only by my tolerance live, More to their strength, then to my favour trust? Or dost thou fear his son's dejected state, Who steals infamous flying through those floods, Which his great father, Admiral of late, Did plant with ships, till all their waves seemed woods; Or makes his brother's death his hopes grow more, Since (by them straited in a bloody strife) I who in all the battels given before, Did fight for victory, then, fought for life; Or, whilst to march to Parthia I prepare, Doth a suspicion thus afflict thy spirit: By Crassus' fortune moved, who perished there, The scorned prey of the Barbarians spite? To those with Cassius who from thence retired, Amongst my bands a place I will allow, Whose foes shall find (bad fate at last expired,) Though the same sheep, another shepherd now: Do not imagine matters to bemoan, For, whilst there stands a world, can Caesar fall? Though thousand thousands were conjured in one, I, and my fortune might confound them all.
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)
Whilſt of our band the fury flames moſt hot, And that their will to end this worke is ſuch, Leſt Caeſars abſence diſappoint the plot, Which would of ſome abate the courage much; It (Decius) were exceedingly well done, That to his lodging you addreſt your way, Him by all meanes to further forward ſoone, Leſt him ſome ſudden chance may move to ſtay. There, where the Senate minds this day to ſit, Stand all prepar'd, not fearing danger more, And for the Sacrifice when all is fit, I'le bring an offring hallowed of before. LOng-lookt-for Time that ſhould the glory yeeld, Which I through Neptunes truſtleſſe raign have ſought; And through the duſt of many a bloudy field, As by all dangers worthy to be bought. Thy comming now thoſe lowring ſhadowes cleares, My hopes horizon which did long o're-caſt; This day defrayes the toyles of many yeares, And brings the harveſt of my labours paſt. The Senators a Meſſenger have ſent Moſt earneſtly entreating me to come And heare my ſelfe diſcern'd by their conſent To weare a Crowne o're all, excepting Rome; Thus, they deviſe conditions at this houre For him, of whom Mars hath made them the prey, As Subjects limit could their Soveraignes pow'r, Who muſt have minde of nought but to obey; But having pacifi'd thoſe preſent things, I minde to leade my valorous legions forth To th' orientall Realmes (adoring Kings) Who can afford all that is due to worth. Then ſwimme my thoughts in th' ocean of delight, Whilſt on the pillow of ſoft praiſe repos'd; Thoſe eyes to gaze upon my glories light, Which Envy open'd, Admiration clos'd. Ah, though your fancies great contentment finde, Whilſt thus the world your vertue doth advance; Yet a prepoſt'rous terrour ſtings my minde, And braggs me with I know not what miſchance; My wavering hopes o're-ballanc'd are with feares, Which to my ſoule ſiniſtrous ſignes impart; And om'nous rumours ſo aſſault mine eates, That they almoſt make breaches in my heart. What? do foil'd Pompeys floting followers ſtrive To recollect their ruines from the duſt? Dare they who onely by my tollerance live, More to their ſtrength, then to my favour truſt? Or do'ſt thou feare his ſonnes dejected ſtate, Who ſteales infamous flying through thoſe flouds, Which his great father, Admirall of late, Did plant with ſhips, till all their waves ſeem'd woods; Or makes his brothers death his hopes grow more, Since (by them ſtraited in a bloudy ſtrife) I who in all the battels given before, Did fight for victory, then, fought for life; Or, whilſt to march to Parthia I prepare, Doth a ſuſpition thus afflict thy ſprite: By Craſſus fortune mov'd, who periſh'd there, The ſcorned prey of the Barbarians ſpight? To thoſe with Caſsius who from thence retir'd, Amongſt my bands a place I will allow, Whoſe foes ſhall finde (bad fate at laſt expir'd,) Though the ſame ſheep, another ſheep-heard now: Doe not imagine matters to bemone, For, whilſt there ſtands a world, can Caeſar fall? Though thouſand thouſands were conjur'd in one, I, and my fortune might confound them all.