The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 5 of 51
Goffe, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1618 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
I am distracted, and me thinks I burn, Under these robes of state, a boiling heat, Runs from them through my veins, Ioues hardy son, When he bewrapt himself in Nessus' shirt, Felt not more bitter agonies, than I, Clothed in the trappings of my Majesty. I am resolved; Bassas, go meet our father, Allure him home with this: I am begun To be no King, but a repentant son. Pallas I ask thy pardon, I have strayed A graceless truant from thy happy schools, Whither I'll now return; there's not a rank, Place, or degree, can sort us out true bliss Without thy Temple, there my dwellin●g is: Amongst the Sacred monuments of wit, Which Classic authors carefully have writ For our instruction, I will waste my time; So to wash out the spots of this sad crime. Court honours, and you shadows of true joy That shine like stars, till but a greater light Drown your weak lustre, I adjure your sight, Even from my meditations, and my thoughts I banish your enticing vanities, And closely kept within my study walls, As from a cave of rest, henceforth I'll see, And smile, but never taste your misery. I but as yet am floating on the waves, Of stormy danger, nor am sure to scape The violent blast of angry Bajazet. Blow fair my hopes and when I touch the shore, I'll venture forth on this rough surge no more. See where he comes, oh how my guilty blood Starts to my face, and proves my cause not good. Our duty to our father, Ours to the Emperor. Why kneels great Bajazet? I am thy son Thy slave: and if thy wrath but frown, undone. Why kneels great Bajazet, heavens hide thy face, From these preposterous doings. What, not ashamed To circled in thy brow with that bright Crown, Yet blush to see me kneel? though filial rites, And moral precepts say the son must bend Before the Father, yet your high degree And power bids you rise, commands my knee. Those ornaments be thine, Here Bajazet I Crown thee Monarch of the spacious West, Asia, and Africa: if ought be mine, Greater than these I here proclaim it thine. Live Bajazet our mighty Prince, Live, rule, and flourish. Is this your zeal? is it? did every voice Breath out a willing suffrage? I am crowned, My joys are fully perfect, and I feel My lightened spirits caper in my breast. Rise thou starbright mirror of thine age, By thee our iron days prove full as good, As when old Saturn thundered in the clouds. Be an example to succeeding times, How sons should use their Parents: and I vow (When I shall fail) this honour to thy brow. Attend us Bassaes, I'll lead on to joy, Never was Father blessed with such a Boy. Freed from a Princely burden, I possess A Kingly liberty, and am no less Princely; observance wait on him, on me Thoughts undisturbed, I shall then happy be.
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)
I am distracted, and me thinkes I burne, Vnder these robes of state, a boyling heate, Runnes from them through my veines, Ioues hardy sonne, When he bewrapt himselfe in Nessus shirt, Felt not more bitter agonies, then I, Cloath'd in the trappings of my Maiestie. I am resolved; Bassaes, goe mete our father, Allure him home with this: I am begun To be no King, but a repentant sonne. Pallas I aske thy pardon, I haue straied A gracelesse trewant from thy happy schooles, Whither I'le now returne; theres not a ranke, Place, or degree, can sort vs out true blisse Without thy Temple, there my dwelling is: Amongst the Sacred monuments of wit, Which Classique authors carefully haue writ For our instruction, I will wast my time; So to wash out the spots of this sad crime. Court honors, and you shaddowes of true joy That shine like starres, till but a greater light Drowne your weake luster, I adjure your sight, Even from my meditations, and my thoughts I banish your entising vanities, And closely kept within my studie walles, As from a cave of rest, henceforth Ile see, And smile, but neuer tast your misery. I but as yet am floating on the waues, Of stormy daunger, nor am sure to scape The violent blast of angry Baiazet. Blow faire my hopes and when I touch the shoare, Ile venture forth on this rough surge no more. See where he comes, oh how my guiltie blood Starts to my face, and proues my cause not good. Our dutie to our father, Ours to the Emperor. Why kneeles great Baiazet? I am thy sonne Thy slaue: and if thy wrath but frowne, vndone. Why kneeles great Baiazet, heavens hide thy face, From these preposterous doings. What, not asham'd To circle in thy brow with that bright Crowne, Yet blush to see mee kneele? though filiall rites, And morrall precepts say the sonne must bend Before the Father, yet your high degree And powre bids you rise, commands my knee. Those ornaments be thine, Here Baiazet I Crowne thee Monarch of the spatious West, Asia, and Affrica: if ought be mine, Greater then these I here proclaime it thine. Liue Baiazet our mighty Prince, Liue, rule, and flourish. Is this your zeale? is it? did euery voyce Breath out a willing suffrage? I am crowned, My ioyes are fully perfect, and I feele My lightned spirits caper in my brest. Rise thou starre-bright mirrour of thine age, By thee our iron dayes proue full as good, As when old Saturne thundred in the clowds. Be an example to succeeding times, How sonnes should vse their Parents: and I vow (When I shall faile) this honour to thy brow. Attend vs Bassas, Ile lead on to ioy, Neuer was Father blest with such a Boy. Freed from a Princely burthen, I possess A Kingly liberty, and am no lesse Princely; obseruance wayte on him, on me Thoughts vndisturb'd, I shall then happy be.