Caesar and Pompey (The Wars of Caesar and Pompey) · chunk 23 of 34
Chapman, George · published 1631 · first performed or written 1605 [1602-1605; Act 2, sc. 1 written 1610-1611(?)] (Annals) tragedy · Unacted (?) · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O the strange carriage of their acts, by which Men order theirs; and their devotions in them; Much rather striving to entangle men In pathless error, then with regular right Confirm their reasons, and their piety's light. For now Sir, whatsoever was foreshown By heaven, or prodigy; ten parts more for us, Forewarning us, deterring us, and all Our blind and brainless frenzies, then for Caesar; All yet will be ascribed to his regard Given by the gods for his good parts, preferring Their gloss (being stark impostures) to the justice, Love, honour, piety, of our laws and Country. Though I think these are arguments enough For my acquittal, that for all these fought. Y'are clear, my Lord. Gods help me, as I am; whatever my untouched command of millions Through all my eight and fifty years, hath won, This one day (in the world's esteem) hath lost. So vile is praise and dispraise by event. For I am still myself in every worth The world could grace me with, had this days Even In one blaze joined, with all my other Conquests. And shall my comforts in my well-known self Fail me for their false fires, Demetrius? O no, my Lord. Take grief for them, as if The rotten-hearted world could steep my soul In filthy putrefaction of their own? Since their applauses fail me? that are hisses To every sound acceptance? I confess, That till th'affair was past, my passions flamed, But now 'tis helpless, and no cause in me, Rest in these embers my unmoved soul, With any outward change, this distich minding; No man should more allow his own loss, woes, (Being past his fault) then any stranger does. And for the world's false loves, and airy honours, What soul that ever loved them most in life, (Once severed from this breathing sepulchre) Again came and appeared in any kind Their kind admirer still, or did the state Of any best man here, associate? And every true soul should be here so severed From love of such men, as here drown their souls As all the world does? Cato sole accepted, To whom I'll fly now, and my wife in way (Poor Lady, and poor children, worse than fatherless) Visit, and comfort. Come Demetrius, We now must suit our habits to our fortunes And since these changes ever chance to greatest. Nor desire to be (Do fortune, to exceed it, what she can) A Pompey, or a Caesar, but a man. O We have slain, not conquered, Roman blood Perverts th'event, and desperate blood let out With their own swords. Did ever men before Envy their own lives, since another lived Whom they would wilfully conceive their foe, And forge a Tyrant merely in their fears To justify their slaughters? consul's? furies. Be, Sir, their faults their griefs! The greater number Were only slaves, that left their bloods to ruth, And altogether, but six thousand slain.
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)
O the ſtrange carriage of their acts, by which Men order theirs; and their deuotions in them; Much rather ſtriuing to entangle men In pathleſſe error, then with regular right Confirme their reaſons, and their pieties light. For now Sir, whatſoeuer was foreſhowne By heauen, or prodigy; ten parts more for vs, Forewarning vs, deterring vs, and all Our blinde and brainleſſe frenzies, then for Caeſar; All yet will be aſcribde to his regard Giuen by the gods for his good parts, preferring Their gloſſe (being ſtarck impoſtures) to the iuſtice, Loue, honor, piety, of our lawes and Countrey. Though I thinke theſe are arguments enow For my acquitall, that for all theſe fought. Y'are cleare, my Lord. Gods helpe me, as I am; What euer my vntoucht command of millions Through all my eight and fifty yeares, hath woonne, This one day (in the worlds eſteeme) hath loſt. So vile is praiſe and diſpraiſe by euent. For I am ſtill my ſelfe in euery worth The world could grace me with, had this dayes Euen In one blaze ioyn'd, with all my other Conqueſts. And ſhall my comforts in my well-knowne ſelfe Faile me for their falſe fires, Demetrius? O no, my Lord. Take griefe for them, as if The rotten-hearted world could ſteepe my ſoule In filthy putrifaction of their owne? Since their applauſes faile me? that are hiſſes To euery ſound acceptance? I confeſſe, That till th'affaire was paſt, my paſſions flam'd, But now tis helpleſſe, and no cauſe in me, Reſt in theſe embers my vnmoued ſoule, With any outward change, this dyſtick minding; No man ſhould more allow his owne loſſe, woes, (Being paſt his fault) then any ſtranger does. And for the worlds falſe loues, and ayry honors, What ſoule that euer lou'd them moſt in life, (Once ſeuer'd from this breathing ſepulchre) Againe came and appearde in any kind Their kinde admirer ſtill, or did the ſtate Of any beſt man here, aſſociate? And euery true ſoule ſhould be here ſo ſeuer'd From loue of ſuch men, as here drowne their ſoules As all the world does? Cato ſole accepted, To whom Ile fly now, and my wife in way (Poore Lady, and poore children, worſe then fatherleſſe) Viſit, and comfort. Come Demetrius ▪ We now muſt ſute our habites to our fortunes And ſince theſe changes euer chance to greateſt. Nor deſire to be (Doe fortune, to exceed it, what ſhe can) A Pompey, or a Caeſar, but a man. O We haue ſlaine, not conquerd, Roman blood Peruerts th'euent, and deſperate blood let out With their owne ſwords. Did euer men before Enuy their owne liues, ſince another liu'd Whom they would willfully conceiue their foe, And forge a Tyrant merely in their feares To iuſtifie their ſlaughters? Conſuls? furies. Be, Sir, their faults their griefes! The greater number Were only ſlaues, that left their bloods to ruth, And altogether, but ſix thouſand ſlaine.