The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 22 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 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Duty first from Rome, Commended by the Bishop to your service, With a firm promise to dispatch your will What ever it employed, and would but stay Till times swift circle should bring forth a day Secure for the performance. 'Tis enough. Thanks for your care. This was to murder Zemes. War with the Bishop? 'thad been pretty sport, I knew my powerful word was strong enough To make him do my pleasure: simple Priest, Only I used it as a trick, to send Achmetes from the City and his friends; But Fate to smiled upon me, that I found A shorter means his life and hopes to wound With my sententious sons, that when my foes Fled through their Province, finely let him go; Which being wholly finished, strait to please My friends, I played raging Hercules; Then to shut up the Scene, neatly put on A passionate humour, and the worst was done. But who comes here? I like not this. Mahomates beloved So dearly of the Commonalty: ha? he's wise, fair-spoken, gently qualified, Powerful of tongue; why he's the better son, Not to supplant his Father. I mislike The prodigal affection thrown on him By all my subject. I belied my hopes When I presumed this day had freely rid Me of my worst vexation: I was borne To be a jade to Fate, and Fortunes scoff, My cares grow double-great by cutting off. If ever man loved sorrow wished to grieve Father I do for thee. Could I deprive My senses of each object, but thy death, Then should I joy to sigh away my breath: Be Godhead to my grief, then shall these eyes With tributary tears bedeck thy shrine: And thus I do invoke thee: nimble Ghost What ever Orb of Heaven, what ever coast Affords thee present mansion, quickly thence Flit hither, and present unto my sense Thyself a feeling substance, let me see, Acknowledge and admire thy Majesty. Put off that airy thinness which denies Me to behold thee with these duller eyes, Then shall they sending down a powerful flood, Rinse thy cold members from each drop of blood, And so return thee back, that thou may'st soar Up to the skies, much purer than before. Had the just course of nature wrought thee hence, I would have made the gods know their offence, And back restore thy soul: but thou art dead, And 'twas a fiercer hand that clipped thy thread. Fiercer, and bolder, which did ever thrive By mischief, and once coffinde thee alive Up in death's mantle, but then would not use Such open violence, nor durst abuse One of such sacred worth, till fury struck His reason dead, and made his treacherous hand Creepingly stab thee, both unseen and foul, As if he would have stolen away thy soul. But oh! But of indeed! Why what? As bad A stroke attends thee as thy Father had▪ Princess suspicion is a flame of fire, Exhaled first from our manners, and by desire Of rule is nourished, fed, and roars about Till the whole matter dye, and then goes out.
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)
Duty first from Rome, Commended by the Bishop to your seruice, With a firme promise to dispatch your will What euer it imployd, and would but stay Till imes wift circle should bring forth a day Secure for the performance. 'Tis enough. Thanks for your care. This was to murder Zemes. Ware with the Bishop? 'thad beene pretty sport, I knew my powerfull word was strong enough To make him do my pleasure: simple Priest, Onely I vs'd it as a trick, to send Achmets from the Citie and his friends; But Fate to smil'd vpon me, that I found A shorter mens his life and hopes to wound With my sententious sonnes, that when my foe Fled through their Prouince, finely let him goe; Which being wholy finish'd, straight to please My friends, I play'd raging Hercules; Then to shut vp the Scene, neatly put on A passionate humour, and the worst was done. But who comes here? I like not this. Mahomats belou'd So dearely of the Comminalty: ha? Hee's wise, faire-spoken, gently qalified, Powerfull of tongue; why hee's the better sonne, Not to supplant his Father. I mislike The prodigall affection throwne on him By all my ubiects. I belyed my hopes When I presum'd this day had freely rid Me of my worst vexation: I was borne To be a Iade to Fate, and Fortues scoffe, My cares grow double-great by cutting off. If euer man lou'd sorrow wisht to grieue Father I doe for thee. Could I depriue My senses of each object, but thy death, Then should I ioy to sigh away my breath: Be Godhead to my griefe, then shall these eyes With tributary teares bedeck thy shrine: And thus I doe invoke thee: nimble Ghost What euer rbe of Heauen, what euer coast Affords thee present mansion, quickly thence Flit hither, and present vnto my sense Thy selfe a feeling substance, let me see, Acknowledge and admire thy Maiesty. Put off that ayry thinnesse which denies Me to behold thee with these duller eyes, Then shall they sending downe a powerfull floud, Rence thy colde members from each drop of bloud, And so returne thee back, that thou may'st soare Vp to the skies, much purer then before. Had the iust course of nature wrought thee hence, I would haue made the gods know their offence, And backe restore thy soule: but thou art dead, And 'twas a fiercer hand that clipt thy thread. Fiercer, and bolder, which did euer thriue By mischiefe, and once coffinde thee aliue Vp in deaths mantle, but then would not vse Such open violence, nor durst abuse One of such sacred worth, till fury stuck His reason dead, and made his treacherous hand Creepingly stab thee, both vnseene and foule, As if he would haue tolne away thy soule. But oh! But of indeede! Why what? As bad A stroke attends thee as thy Father had▪ Princes suspition is a flame of fire, Exhal'd first from our manners, and by desire Of rule is nourish'd, fed, and rores about Till the whole matter dye, and then goes out.