Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1607 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 462 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
And when mine eyes th' umbragious darkness spoils, I never look to grace them with the light; For, when the light with shadows makes a change, To flatter mortals with a dream of rest, What ugly Gorgon's, what Chimeras strange Do brag the little world within my breast? The time which should appease impetuous cares, Doth double mine, who view most when quite blind; I apprehend huge horrors and despairs, Whilst th' outward objects not distract my mind: Now of my conquests what delight remains? Where is the peace pursued by many a strife? Have I but taken pain to purchase pains? And sought by dangers for a dangerous life? Is this the period of aspiring powers, In promised calms to be most plagued by storms? Lurk poisonous Serpents under fairest flowers, And hellish furies under heavenly forms? It will not grieve my ghost below to go, If circumvented in the wars I end, As bold Marcellus by Rome's greatest foe, Who gave his ashes honour as a friend; Or like t' Epaminondas in his death, O! would the Gods I had amidst alarms, When charged with recent spoils, been spoiled of breath, Whilst I to Pluto might have marched in arms; Yet, life to end, which nought but toils affords, I'll pay to death the tribute that it owes; Strait with my blood, let some come dye their swords, Whose naked breast encounter shall their blows: But ah! how have the furies seized my breast, And poisoned thus my spirit with desp'rate rage? By horrid Serpents whilst quite barred from rest, No kind of comfort can my cares assuage; No, Atropos, yet spare my thread a space, That to the Stygian streams ere walking down, I may of honour have the highest place, And if I fall, yet fall beneath a Crown. Whilst ears are bended to applauding shouts, My thoughts divided are within my breast, And my tossed soul doth float between two doubts, Yet knows not on what ground to build her rest. The Senators, they have this day designed, To show the world how they esteem my worth; Yet do portentous signs perturb my mind, By which the heavens would point my danger forth: The Gods from me with indignation gone, In every thing charactered have my death: And must both heaven and earth conspire in one, To quench a little spark of smoking breath? My safety would that I should stay within Till this disastrous day give darkness place, But daring honour would have me begin To reap the glory of my painful race, And I'll advance in spite of threatened broils, For, though the fates accomplish what we dream, When only death hath triumphed of my spoils, I then (though breathless) still shall breathe with fame.
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)
And when mine eyes th' umbragious darkeneſſe ſpoils, I never looke to grace them with the light; For, when the light with ſhadowes makes a change, To flatter mortals with a dreame of reſt, What ugly Gorgons, what Chimera's ſtrange Doe bragge the little world within my breſt? The time which ſhould appeaſe impetuous cares, Doth double mine, who view moſt when quite blinde; I apprehend huge horrours and deſpaires, Whilſt th' outward objects not diſtract my minde: Now of my conqueſts what delight remaines? Where is the peace purſu'd by many a ſtrife? Have I but taken paine to purchaſe paines? And ſought by dangers for a dangerous life? Is this the period of aſpiring pow'rs, In promis'd calmes to be moſt plagu'd by ſtormes? Lurke poyſ'nous Serpents under faireſt flow'rs, And helliſh furies under heavenly formes? It will not grieve my ghoſt below to goe, If circumvented in the warres I end, As bold Marcellus by Romes greateſt foe, Who gave his aſhes honour as a friend; Or like t' Epaminondas in his death, O! would the Gods I had amidſt alarmes, When charg'd with recent ſpoiles, been ſpoil'd of breath, Whilſt I to Pluto might have march'd in armes; Yet, life to end, which nought but toyles affords, I'le pay to death the tribute that it owes; Straight with my bloud, let ſome come dye their ſwords, Whoſe naked breſt encounter ſhall their blowes: But ah! how have the furies ſeaz'd my breſt, And poyſon'd thus my ſprite with deſp'rate rage? By horrid Serpents whilſt quite barr'd from reſt, No kinde of comfort can my cares aſſwage; No, Atropos, yet ſpare my threed a ſpace, That to the Stygian ſtreames ere walking downe, I may of honour have the higheſt place, And if I fall, yet fall beneath a Crowne. VVhilſt eares are bended to applauding ſhouts, My thoughts divided are within my breſt, And my toſs'd ſoule doth flote between two doubts, Yet knowes not on what ground to build her reſt. The Senators, they have this day deſign'd, To ſhew the world how they eſteeme my worth; Yet doe portentuous ſignes perturbe my minde, By which the heavens would point my danger forth: The Gods from me with indignation gone, In every thing charact'red have my death: And muſt both heaven and earth conſpire in one, To quench a little ſparke of ſmoaking breath? My ſafety would that I ſhould ſtay within Till this diſaſtrous day give darkeneſſe place, But daring honour would have me begin To reape the glory of my painefull race, And I'le advance in ſpight of threatned broyles, For, though the fates accompliſh what we dreame, When onely death hath triumph'd of my ſpoyles, I then (though breathleſſe) ſtill ſhall breathe with fame.