Greville, Fulke · published 1633 · first performed or written 1596 [c.1594-c.1596] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Who euer thinkes by Vertue to aspire, And Goodnesse dreames to be but Fortunes starre; Or who by Mischiefes wit seekes his desire, And thinkes, no Conscience, wayes to Honor are: He, Mustapha! here seeing thee, and me; Sees no Mans good, or ill rules Destinie. Then ah! woe worth them that with God contend, And would exchange the course of Fate by Wit, Which God makes worke, to bring his works to end, And with it selfe, euen oft, doth ruine it. Ah Tyrant Fate! to them that doe amisse: For nothing left me, but my Error, is. What Glories this that with it selfe is sad? Good lucke makes all hearts, but the guiltie, glad. Zanger, for whom euen Mustapha was slaine, And vnto whom Camena's blood was shed; Zanger, for whom all Worlds on me complaine, Hath done that which nor Law, nor Truth could doe: (Horror, and doubt in my desires breed) Murther'd himselfe, and ouerthrowne me too. Tell why? And how he so vnthankfull died? In euery Creatures heart there liues Desire, Which men doe hallow as appearing good: For Greatnesse they esteeme it to aspire, Although it weakenesse be, well vnderstood. This vnbound, raging, infinite Thought-fire I tooke; nay it tooke me, and plac'd my heart On hopes to alter Empire, and Succession. Chance was my faith, and Order my despayre: Sect, Innouation, Change of Princes right, My studies were: I thought Hope had no end, In her, that hath an Emperor to friend. Whence like the Stormes (that then like stormes doe blow, When all things, but themselues, they ouerthrow) I ventur'd; first to make the Father feare, Then hate, then kill, his most beloued Childe. My Daughter did discouer him my way, To Mustapha she opened mine intent: For she had tried, but could not turne my heart. Yet no hurt to me she in telling meant, Though hurt she did me to disclose my Art. I sought Reuenge: Reuenge it could not be; For, I confesse, she neuer wronged me. Remorse, that hath a Faction in each heart, Womanish Shame, which is Compassions friend, Conspir'd with Truth to haue restrayned me; Yet kil'd I her whom I did dearely loue; Furies of choyce, what arguments can moue? I kill'd her: for I thought her death would proue That Truth, not Hate, made Mustapha suspected: The more it seem'd, against a Mothers loue, The more it shew'd, I Solyman affected: Thus, vnderneath seuere, and vpright dealing, A mischieuous Stepmothers malice stealing, It tooke effect: For few meane ill in vaine. Which wicked Art although the Father knew, Yet his Affection turn'd my ill to good: Vice, but of hers, being only vnderstood. Feare grew discreet, and would not speake in vaine; Courage turn'd all the strengths of heart to beare; Iustice it selfe durst murmur, not complaine: So little care the Fates for vs below: So little men feare God, they doe not know.
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)
Who euer thinkes by Vertue to aspire, And Goodnesse dreames to be but Fortunes starre; Or who by Mischiefes wit seekes his desire, And thinkes, no Conscience, wayes to Honor are: He, Mustapha! here seeing thee, and me; Sees no Mans good, or ill rules Destinie. Then ah! woe worth them that with God contend, And would exchange the course of Fate by Wit, Which God makes worke, to bring his works to end, And with it selfe, euen oft, doth ruine it. Ah Tyrant Fate! to them that doe amisse: For nothing left me, but my Error, is. What Glories this that with it selfe is sad? Good lucke makes all hearts, but the guiltie, glad. Zanger, for whom euen Mustapha was slaine, And vnto whom Camena's blood was shed; Zanger, for whom all Worlds on me complaine, Hath done that which nor Law, nor Truth could doe: (Horror, and doubt in my desires breed) Murther'd himselfe, and ouerthrowne me too. Tell why? And how he so vnthankfull died? In euery Creatures heart there liues Desire, Which men doe hallow as appearing good: For Greatnesse they esteeme it to aspire, Although it weakenesse be, well vnderstood. This vnbound, raging, infinite Thought-fire I tooke; nay it tooke me, and plac'd my heart On hopes to alter Empire, and Succession. Chance was my faith, and Order my despayre: Sect, Innouation, Change of Princes right, My studies were: I thought Hope had no end, In her, that hath an Emperor to friend. Whence like the Stormes (that then like stormes doe blow, When all things, but themselues, they ouerthrow) I ventur'd; first to make the Father feare, Then hate, then kill, his most beloued Childe. My Daughter did discouer him my way, To Mustapha she opened mine intent: For she had tried, but could not turne my heart. Yet no hurt to me she in telling meant, Though hurt she did me to disclose my Art. I sought Reuenge: Reuenge it could not be; For, I confesse, she neuer wronged me. Remorse, that hath a Faction in each heart, Womanish Shame, which is Compassions friend, Conspir'd with Truth to haue restrayned me; Yet kil'd I her whom I did dearely loue; Furies of choyce, what arguments can moue? I kill'd her: for I thought her death would proue That Truth, not Hate, made Mustapha suspected: The more it seem'd, against a Mothers loue, The more it shew'd, I Solyman affected: Thus, vnderneath seuere, and vpright dealing, A mischieuous Stepmothers malice stealing, It tooke effect: For few meane ill in vaine. Which wicked Art although the Father knew, Yet his Affection turn'd my ill to good: Vice, but of hers, being only vnderstood. Feare grew discreet, and would not speake in vaine; Courage turn'd all the strengths of heart to beare; Iustice it selfe durst murmur, not complaine: So little care the Fates for vs below: So little men feare God, they doe not know.