Gomersall, Robert · published 1633 · first performed or written 1628 [1622-1628] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 464 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
My faults; For which so strange a sadness seizes me▪ That it increaseth when I strive with it, And makes my face rebellious to my Lord, When my heart yields Then once again, adieu, Forsake your grief, or grief will forsake you. Forsake my grief— O bid me forsake heaven, My reason, and mine honour: only sighs Do keep me in opinion of Being, And without them I were a stupid coarse. Shall I obey impossibilities? Forsake the sorrow, and retain the cause? How can I think that yet the untyred Sun Has journeyed but a twelvemonth, since I was In Ferdinando's Court, the Paragon Of happy Naples, when his Palace seemed Guarded which Princely suitors, and mine eye, Caught with so many rarities of men, Taught me that too much choice did hinder choice, That Galeazzo then must carry me? This Galeazzo, neither Prince, nor Man, Fooled out of both by Sforza, his dear uncle. Can I think this, and think of joy again? Can I think this, and dare to think again? Why should some toys of after-torment fright A resolution of easing me From present ones? O 'tis the curse of man To be unhappy at arbiterment, Till heaven please to relent▪ My Iulia, Breathes Naples any comfort? quickly speak. None, Madam, and your courteous Grandfather In steed of Armies sends you Patience. What? patience? he should have sent me rage, Aided my anger, if nor my revenge: Patience? O God can grief be patient? Can Thunder whisper? or chafed seas not roar? In me is Sea and thunder, I will be A pattern of Revenge not misery. SForza, as yet thou but beginst to act, And yet beginst to stagger: wert thou not A Prince's son? why art thou not a Prince? Protectors are but subjects, and this staff But shows me under whose command I am. Is this our hindrance that our mother first Swelled with another? what her womb denied Our head shall give, or we will lose our head. What was her labour to a Crown? Perhaps A monster might have filled her first, a thing Of royal prodigy, and should this thing Grow to be hooted to a crown before us? Or if that crowns be due to the most years, Why should the Nephew be the Uncle's Lord? And Laws of Nations conquer those of Nature? Nature intended Sovereignty to them Of sovereign understanding; to the rest, How ever aged, but subjection, Which Isabel would detain us in: And whilst she trusts to Naples, our sad brow May sooner wear willow, than Diadems. Returned so soon, my Belgiosa? thanks, Before I hear thy message, for thy haste, My Lord, our sudden coming into France, Left fame behind us, where arrived, we craved A private audience.
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)
My faults; For which so strange a sadnesse seizes me▪ That it increaseth when I strive with it, And makes my face rebellious to my Lord, When my heart yeelds Then once againe, adieu, Forsake your griefe, or griefe will forsake you. Forsake my griefe—O bid me forsake heav'n, My reason, and mine honor: onely sighes Doe keepe me in opinion of Beeing, And without them I were a stupid coarse. Shall I obey impossibilities? Forsake the sorrow, and retaine the cause? How can I thinke that yet the untyr'd Sunne Has journy'd but a twelve-month, since I was In Ferdinando's Court, the Paragon Of happy Naples, when his Palace seem'd Guarded whith Princely sutors, and mine eye, Caught with so many rarities of men, Taught me that too much choice did hinder choice, That Galeazzo then must cary me? This Galeazzo, neither Prince, nor Man, Fool'd out of both by Sforza, his deare vncle. Can I thinke this, and thinke of joy againe? Can I thinke this, and dare to thinke againe? Why should some toyes of after-torment fright A resolution of easing me From present ones? O tis the curse of man To be unhappy at arbiterment, Till heav'n please to relent▪ My Iulia, Breath's Naples any comfort? quickly speake. None, Madam, and your courteous Grandfather In steed of Armies sends you Patience. VVhat? patience? he should have sent me rage, Ayded my anger, if nor my revenge: Patience? O God! can griefe be patient? Can Thunder whisper? or chaf'd seas not roare? In me is Sea and thunder, I will be A patterne of Revenge not misery. SForza, as yet thou but beginst to act, And yet beginst to stagger: wert thou not A Princes sonne? why art thou not a Prince? Protectors are but subjects, and this staffe But shewes me under whose command I am. Is this our hindrance that our mother first Swell'd with another? what her wombe denyde Our head shall give, or we will lose our head. What was her labour to a Crowne? Perhaps A monster might have fill'd her first, a thing Of royall prodigy, and should this thing Grow to be hooted to a crowne before us? Or if that crownes be due to the most yeares, Why should the Nephew be the Vncles Lord? And Lawes of Nations conquer those of Nature? Nature intended Sov'raignty to them Of soveraigne understanding; to the rest, How ever aged, but subjection, Which Isabella would detaine us in: And whilst she trusts to Naples, our sad brow May sooner weare willow, then Diadems. Return'd so soone, my Belgiosa? thankes, Before I heare thy message, for thy hast, My Lord, our sudden comming into France, Left fame behind us, where ariv'd, we crav'd A private audience.