Fisher, Jasper · published 1633 · first performed or written 1625 [c.1611-1633] (Annals) history · at University unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Your will commands, and mine obeys. The coast is clear. Our honour is the Goal. In vain doth Tagus yellow sand obey, Rhein's horned front, and nimble Tigris running For wager with the wind, which skims his top: In vain from Ganges to Hesperian Gades, The Bounds marked out by Ioues two base-born Sons, Our Echoed Name doth sound: If we recoil From hence again not victors. Ye Pilots old, who were begot on mermaids, Whose Element is the Sea, bred and brought up In cradles rocked with storms, and wooden walls, Fear not to grapple with their seas. Fear not Their bulks, Brave veterans: That extended mass Is not of iron, but can bleed, and die: They were not dipped in Styx: nor are they Giants, Or wild Poetic centaurs we assail: Let then this voyage quit our credit lost, And let Rage lash on Courage. here's the Game: Life may be lost, but sure we'll hold fast Fame. Our first attempt doth prosper: They retiring Scud to the bosom of their Fir-tree vaults, And under hatches hide themselves from death. The Cornish band made havoc of their ranks, Like Scythian wolf's midst of a bleating fold: The gingling lances, rattling chariot-wheels Madded their horse. The Bow men merrily shot. Yet would our tributary Kings had succoured! We are decayed they much in number grown, And surely will make head again. Fear not, thou knowest I can even with a whistle, Hide Kent with glittering arms: More flaming sparkles Paint not a freezing night: nor speckled Bees Buzz not about sweet Hybla's bloomy head. But what need millions, when some thousands serve? O did my Brother live! we'd climb the Alps; Like brave Mulmutius sons; make Romulus' wolf Howl horror in their streets, and Rome look pale, As when the Punic Captain eyed her walls. Are ye the Men, who never fought in vain? Who wear Bellona's favours, in your scars: ay, ye are They. What then benumbs our Spirits? Our Empire from Quirinus narrow Centre Doth circling spread, and finds no brink nor bottom. Titan no later sets, nor earlier wakes, Than he beholds our Provinces, Why, then? What Privilege hath this place? Have we, or They The Phrygian powers? Have they Palladium got? No, no, Those gods our Capitol keep with joy: These only have undaunted minds from Troy. What news, good Atrius? No good news from Atrius. When ominous Earth with shade and cloudy vapours Had darkness doubled, storms began to sound, The dabbled South, rough-footed Aquilo, Came rushing like two Rams, whose steeled horns Dart fiery sparks: The clouds crushed breathe out flames: Thunder and Lightning daunt all ears and eyes. The winds and billows strive, who loudest roar. The sky distilled in rain: his room to fill, Ambitious waves would climb the starry hill. Our ships are battered all, some forty sunk.
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)
Your will commands, and mine obeies. The coast is cleere. Our honour is the Goale. In vaine doth Tagus yellow sand obey, Rhenes horned front, and nimble Tygris running For wager with the wind, which skimmes his top: In vaine from Ganges to Hesperian Gades, The Bounds markt out by Ioues two base-borne Sonnes, Our Ecchoed Name doth sound: If we recoyle From hence againe not victours. Ye Pilotes old, who were begot on mere-Maides, Whose Element is the Sea, bred and brought vp In cradles rockt with stormes, and woodden walles, Feare not to grapple with their seas. Feare not Their bulkes, Brave veteranes: That extended masse Is not of iron, but can bleed, and dye: They were not dipt in Styx: nor are they Gyants, Or wild Poetick Centaures we assayle: Let then this voyage quit our credit lost, And let Rage lash on Courage. Heere's the Game: Life may be lost, but sure weele hold fast Fame. Our first attempt doth prosper: They retiring Scudde to the bosome of their Firre-tree vaultes, And vnder hatches hide themselues from death. The Cornish band made havocke of their rankes, Like Scythian wolues midst of a bleating fold: The gingling launces, ratling chariot-wheeles Madded their horse. The Bow men merrily shott. Yet would our tributary Kings had succoured! We are decai'd they much in number growne, And surely will make head againe. Feare not, thou knowest I can euen with a whistle, Hide Kent with glittering armes: More flaming sparkles Paint not a freezing night: nor speckled Bees Buzze not about sweet Hyblaes bloomy head. But what need millions, when some thousands serue? O did my Brother liue! wee'de clime the Alpes; Like braue Mulmutius sonnes; make Romulus woolfe Howle horrour in their streets, and Rome looke pale, As when the Punicke Captaine eyed her walles. Are ye the Men, who neuer fought in vaine? Who weare Bellonaes fauours, in your skarres: I, ye are They. What then benummes our Spirits? Our Empire from Quirinus narrow Center Doth circling spread, and finds no brinke nor bottome. Titan no later sets, nor earlier wakes, Than he beholds our Provinces, Why, then? What Priviledge hath this place? Haue wee, or They The Phrygian powers? Haue they Palladium got? No, no, Those gods our Capitoll keepe with ioy: These only haue vn-daunted minds from Troy. What newes, good Atrius? No good newes from Atrius. When ominous Earth with shade and cloudy vapours Had darknesse doubled, stormes began to sound, The dabled South, ruffe-footed Aquilo, Came rushing like two Rams, whose steeled hornes Dart fiery sparkes: The clouds crusht breathe out flames: Thunder and Lightning daunt all eares and eyes. The windes and billowes striue, who loudest roare. The skie distill'd in raine: his roome to fill, Ambitious waues would clime the starry hill. Our ships are batterd all, some fortie sunke.