The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 3 of 51
Goffe, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1618 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
My wrongs, There sticks the string my thoughts did harp upon; But who hath wronged me in this high content? The fates do sometime frown, yet bless th'event, And sequel of our woes, it cannot be, I should be thwarted in my jollity. But if I can unfold it— for the more, I know them not the greater is my sore. In that read all thy woes, take there a brief, Contract of all thine ills, sad lines of grief. How's this? my youngest son advanced to my seat. Corcutus Imperator, sure I dream: These are but mpty apparitions Feigned by the god of sleep to vex my soul, Were they not so— ere this black night Had thrown her sable mantle o'er the heavens To hide me from my shame; but is it so? I do but flatter up myself, they are true And real griefs, my Passion says they are, Isaac, Achmetes, are they not? Too true Great Bajazet: Corcutus Imperator, Would I had seen thy name writ in the book Of dark damnation, rather than these lines. Cracked not mine eyestrings when I viewed this text? See how each letter spreads abroad in pomp, As if they scorned my tears, how I could dwell On these two words, Corcutus Imperator. Hither repair, the watchful paper worms That scan old records over to a line: Here in two words imprinted shall you see, The model of a doleful history; Virtue dishonoured, breach of filial love, Right shouldered out by wrong, nor can you fain, A crime, which these two words do not contain, But now I rail, not grieve. O nimble air, Let my plaints vanish as they spoken are, Off with this womanish mildness, I will find A shorter trick than this to ease my mind, Pluto beware, I come to reign in hell, Fates bid me rule, and birthright to excel. Stay Bajazet, that arm can break a path Unto thy earthly Monarch, ere thou come To bless the banks of sweet Elysium, With thy wished presence: Mahomet forefend That thou shouldst seal a Kingdom to thy son, By this untimely death, Corcutus reigns, But at thy better pleasure; when he shall hear Thou art arrived, then he'll 'twixt joy and grief, Start from his throne, and nimbly run to meet, Thy pomp, and throw his Sceptre at thy feet: If he but slack that duty here are by, Achmetes strong and bold, Isaac and I. Devoted to your service, yet the world stands On wavering doubts, ready to clap their hands. My desires are crowned, And from the gate of Limbo, where I sat, I feel my spirits knock against the heavens. Achmetes? In that name I hear an ease Of all my griefs pronounced, he shall suffice To banish usurpation from my throne, Did furies guard it round, he's able well To reach my Kingdoms from the gripes of hell.
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 wrongs, There sticks the string my thoughts did harpe vpon; But who hath wrong'd me in this high content? The fates doe sometime frowne, yet blesse th'event, And sequell of our woes, it cannot be, I should be thwarted in my jollity. But if I can vnfold it—for the more, I know them not the greater is my sore. In that read all thy woes, take there a briefe, Contract of all thine ills, sad lines of griefe. How's this? my yongest sonne aduanced to my seate. Corcutus Imperator, sure I dreame: These are but mpty apparitions Fain'd by the god of sleepe to vexe my soule, Were they not so—ere this blacke night Had throwne her sable mantle ore the heauens To hide me from my shame; but is it so? I doe but flatter vp my selfe, they are true And reall griefes, my Passion sayes they are, Isaack, Achmetes, are they not? Too true Great Baiazet: Corcutus Imperator, Would I had seene thy name writ in the booke Of darke damnation, rather then these lines. Crackt not mine eye-strings when I viewed this text? See how each letter spreads abroad in pompe, As if they scorn'd my teares, how I could dwell On these two words, Corcutus Imperator. Hither repaire, the watchfull paper wormes That scan old recordes ouer to a line: Here in two wordes imprinted shall you see, The modell of a dolefull historie; Vertue dishonoured, breach of filiall love, Right shouldered ovt by wrong, nor can you faine, A crime, which these two words doe not containe, But now I raye, not grieve. O nimble ayre, Let my plaints vanish as they spoken are, Off with this womanish mildnesse, I will finde A shorter tricke then this to ease my mind, Pluto beware, I come to raigne in hell, Fates bid me rule, and birth-right to excell. Stay Baiazet, that arme can breake a path Vnto thy earthly Monarch, ere thou come To blesse the bankes of sweete Elysum, With thy wisht presence: Mahomet forefend That thou should'st seale a Kingdome to thy sonne, By this vntimely death, Corcutus raignes, But at thy better pleasure; when he shall heare Thou art arrived, then hee'l twixt ioy and griefe, Start from his throne, and nimbly runne to meete, Thy pompe, and throw his Scepter at thy feete: If hee but slacke that duty here are by, Achmetes strong and bolde, Isaacke and I. Devoted to your service, yet the world stands On wavering doubts, ready to clappe their hands. My desires are crown'd, And from the gate of Libo, where I sate, I feele my spirits knocke against the heavens. Achmetes? In that name I heare an ease Of all my griefes pronounced, he shall suffice To banish vsurpation from my throne, Did furyes guard it round, hee's able well To reach my Kingdomes from the gripes of hell.