Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
Which erst, remoued from mens eyes, wrought reuerend impression. Where now, this Sultans line prophan'd when men shall see, They soone will scorne Grace, Hope, and Feare; the Scepters mysterie. Nor will they more by Faith, or Zeale, in warre be led To sacrifice their liues to Power, for fame when they be dead. Or, to shunne Mortall paines, prouoke the Infinite; Wrong in Mans nature stirring sparks, that giue both heat, and light, To gather in againe those strengths they gaue away; And so plucke downe that Sampsons post, on which our Sultans stay. NOurisht in Court, where no Thoughts peace is nourisht, Vs'd to behold the Tragedies of ruine, Brought vp with feares that follow Princes fortunes; Yet am I like him that hath lost his knowledge, Or neuer heard one storie of Misfortune. My heart doth fall away: feare falls vpon me. Tame Rumors, that haue beene mine old acquaintance Are to me now (like Monsters) feare, or wonder. My Loue beginnes to plague me with Suspitions. My Mothers promises of my aduancement; The name of Mustapha so often murmur'd, With whose name euer I haue beene reioyced, Now makes my heart misgiue, my spirits languish. Man then is Augur of his owne misfortune, When his ioy yeelds him arguments of anguish. Tyrants! Why swell you thus against your Makers? Is rays'd Equalitie so soone growne wilde? Dare you depriue your People of Succession, Which Thrones, and Scepters, on their freedomes build? Haue feare, or loue, in Greatnesse no impression? Since people, who did rayse you to the Crowne, Are ladders standing still to let you downe. Achmat! what strange Euents beget these Passions? " Nature is ruin'd; Humanitie fall'n a sunder; Our Alcoran prophan'd; Empire defac'd; " Ruine is broken loose; Truth dead; Hope banisht. My heart is full; my voyce, and spirits tremble. Yet tell the worst. By Counsell, or Comparison things lessen. No Counsell, or Comparison can lessen The losse of Mustapha, so vily murth'red. How? dead? what Chance, or Malice hath preuented Mankindes good fortune? Fathers vnkindely doubts. Tell, how? when Solyman, by cunning spite Of Rossa's witchcrafts, from his heart had banisht Iustice of Kings, and Louingnesse of Fathers, To wage, and lodge such campes of heady passions, As that sects cunning practices could gather; Enuie tooke hold of worth: doubt did misconster: Renowne was made a lie, and yet a terror: Nothing could calme his Rage, or moue Compassion: Mustapha must die. To which end fetch'd he was, Laden with hopes, and promises of Fauor. So vile a thing is Craft in euery heart, As it makes Power it selfe descend to Art. While Mustapha, that neither hop'd, nor fear'd, Seeing the stormes of Rage, and Danger comming, Yet came; and came accompanied with power. But neither Power, which warranted his safetie; Nor Safetie, that makes Violence a Iustice; Could hold him from Obedience to this Throne: A Gulfe, which hath deuoured many a one.
seed 43: T25 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Which erst, remoued from mens eyes, wrought reuerend impression. Where now, this Sultans line prophan'd when men shall see, They soone will scorne Grace, Hope, and Feare; the Scepters mysterie. Nor will they more by Faith, or Zeale, in warre be led To sacrifice their liues to Power, for fame when they be dead. Or, to shunne Mortall paines, prouoke the Infinite; Wrong in Mans nature stirring sparks, that giue both heat, and light, To gather in againe those strengths they gaue away; And so plucke downe that Sampsons post, on which our Sultans stay. NOurisht in Court, where no Thoughts peace is nourisht, Vs'd to behold the Tragedies of ruine, Brought vp with feares that follow Princes fortunes; Yet am I like him that hath lost his knowledge, Or neuer heard one storie of Misfortune. My heart doth fall away: feare falls vpon me. Tame Rumors, that haue beene mine old acquaintance Are to me now (like Monsters) feare, or wonder. My Loue beginnes to plague me with Suspitions. My Mothers promises of my aduancement; The name of Mustapha so often murmur'd, With whose name euer I haue beene reioyced, Now makes my heart misgiue, my spirits languish. Man then is Augur of his owne misfortune, When his ioy yeelds him arguments of anguish. Tyrants! Why swell you thus against your Makers? Is rays'd Equalitie so soone growne wilde? Dare you depriue your People of Succession, Which Thrones, and Scepters, on their freedomes build? Haue feare, or loue, in Greatnesse no impression? Since people, who did rayse you to the Crowne, Are ladders standing still to let you downe. Achmat! what strange Euents beget these Passions? " Nature is ruin'd; Humanitie fall'n a sunder; " Our Alcoran prophan'd; Empire defac'd; " Ruine is broken loose; Truth dead; Hope banisht. My heart is full; my voyce, and spirits tremble. Yet tell the worst. By Counsell, or Comparison things lessen. No Counsell, or Comparison can lessen The losse of Mustapha, so vily murth'red. How? dead? what Chance, or Malice hath preuented Mankindes good fortune? Fathers vnkindely doubts. Tell, how? when Solyman, by cunning spite Of Rossa's witchcrafts, from his heart had banisht Iustice of Kings, and Louingnesse of Fathers, To wage, and lodge such campes of heady passions, As that sects cunning practices could gather; Enuie tooke hold of worth: doubt did misconster: Renowne was made a lie, and yet a terror: Nothing could calme his Rage, or moue Compassion: Mustapha must die. To which end fetch'd he was, Laden with hopes, and promises of Fauor. So vile a thing is Craft in euery heart, As it makes Power it selfe descend to Art. While Mustapha, that neither hop'd, nor fear'd, Seeing the stormes of Rage, and Danger comming, Yet came; and came accompanied with power. But neither Power, which warranted his safetie; Nor Safetie, that makes Violence a Iustice; Could hold him from Obedience to this Throne: A Gulfe, which hath deuoured many a one.