Caesar and Pompey (The Wars of Caesar and Pompey) · chunk 31 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 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
See heavens your sufferings, is my country's love, The justice of an Empire; piety; Worth this end in their leader: last yet life, And bring the gods off fairer: after this Who will adore, or serve the deities? Help hale him off: and take his head for Caesar. Mother? O save us; Pompey? O my father. Yet falls not heaven? Madam, O make good Your late great spirits; all the world will say, You know not how to bear adverse events, If now you languish. Take her to her coach. O Beastly apprehenders of things manly, And merely heavenly: they with all the reasons I used for just men's liberties, to bear Their lives and deaths up in their own free hands; Fear still my resolution though I seem To give it off like them: and now am won To think my life in laws rule, not mine own, When once it comes to death; as if the law Made for a sort of outlaws, must bound me In their subjection; as if I could Be racked out of my veins, to live in others; As so I must, if others rule my life; And public power keep all the right of death, As if men needs must serve the place of justice; The form, and idol, and renounce itself? ourselves, and all our rights in God and goodness? Our whole contents and freedoms to dispose, All in the joys and ways of arrant rogues? No stay but their wild errors, to sustain us? No forges but their throats to vent our breaths? To form our lives in, and repose our deaths? See, they have got my sword. Who's there? My Lord. Who took my sword hence? Dumb? I do not ask For any use or care of it: but hope I may be answered. Go Sir, let me have it. Poor slaves, how terrible this death is to them? If men would sleep, they would be wroth with all That interrupt them Physic take to take The golden rest it brings: both pay and pray For good, and soundest naps all friends consenting In those kind invocations; praying all Good rest, the gods vouchsafe you; put when death (Sleeps natural brother) comes; (that's nothing worse, But better; being more rich; and keeps the store; Sleep ever fickle, wayward still, and poor) O how men grudge, and shake, and dear, and fly His stern approaches? all their comforts taken In faith, and knowledge of the bliss and beauties That watch their wakings in an endless life: Drowned in the pains and horrors of their sense sustained but for an hour; be all the earth Rapt with this error, lie pursue my reason, And hold that as my light and fiery pillar, Th'eternal law of heaven and earth no firmer. But while I seek to conquer conquering Caesar, My soft-spleened servants overrule and curb me. Where's he I sent to fetch and place my sword Where late I left it? Dumb to? Come another! Where's my sword hung here?
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)
See heauens your ſufferings, is my Countries loue, The iuſtice of an Empire; pietie; Worth this end in their leader: laſt yet life, And bring the gods off fairer: after this Who will adore, or ſerue the deities? Helpe hale him off: and take his head for Caeſar. Mother? O ſaue vs; Pompey? O my father. Yet fals not heauen? Madam, O make good Your late great ſpirits; all the world will ſay, You know not how to beare aduerſe euents, If now you languiſh. Take her to her coach. O Beaſtly apprehenders of things manly, And merely heauenly: they with all the reaſons I vſde for iuſt mens liberties, to beare Their liues and deaths vp in their owne free hands; Feare ſtill my reſolution though I ſeeme To giue it off like them: and now am woonne To thinke my life in lawes rule▪ not mine owne, When once it comes to death; as if the law Made for a ſort of outlawes, muſt bound me In their ſubiection; as if I could Be rackt out of my vaines, to liue in others; As ſo I muſt, if others rule my life; And publique power keepe all the right of death, As if men needes muſt ſerue the place of iuſtice; The forme, and idoll, and renounce it ſelfe? Our ſelues, and all our rights in God and goodneſſe? Our whole contents and freedomes to diſpoſe, All in the ioyes and wayes of arrant rogues? No ſtay but their wilde errors, to ſuſtaine vs? No forges but their throats to vent our breaths? To forme our liues in, and repoſe our deaths? See, they haue got my ſword. Who's there? My Lord. Who tooke my ſword hence? Dumb? I doe not aske For any vſe or care of it: but hope I may be anſwered. Goe Sir, let me haue it. Poore ſlaues, how terrible this death is to them? If men would ſlepe, they would be wroth with all That interrupt them Phyſick ake to take The golden reſt it brings: both pay and pray For good, and ſoundeſt naps all friends conſenting In thoſe kinde inuocations; praying all Good reſt, the gods vouchſafe you; put when death (Sleepes naturall brother) comes; (that's nothing worſe, But better; being more rich; and keepes the ſtore; Sleepe euer fickle, wayward ſtill, and poore) O how men grudge, and ſhake, and eare, and fly His ſterne approaches? all their comforts taken In aith, and knowledge of the bliſſe and beauties That watch their wakings in an endleſſe life: Dround in the paines and horrors of their ſenſe Suſtainde but for an houre; be all the earth Rapt with this error, lie purſue my reaſon, And hold that as my light and fiery pillar, Th'eternall law of heauen and earth no firmer. But while I ſeeke to conquer conquering Caeſar, My ſoft-ſplen'd ſeruants ouerrule and curb me. Where's he I ſent to fetch and place my ſword Where late I left it? Dumb to? Come another! Where's my ſword hung here?