The Royal King and the Loyal Subject · chunk 1 of 39
Heywood, Thomas · published 1637 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1618] (Annals) romance · Unknown unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 449 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
To give content to this most curious Age, The gods themselves we have brought down to the Stage, And figured them in Planets, made even Hell Deliver up the Furies, by no spell, (Saving the muse's rapture) further, we Have trafficked by their help; no History We have left unrifled, our Pens have, been dipped As well in opening each hid Manuscript, As Tracts more vulgar, whether read, or sung In our domestic, or more foreign tongue: Of Fairy Elves, Nymphs of the Sea, and Land; The Lawns and Groves, no number can be scanned Which we have not given feet to, nay 'tis known, That when our Chronicles have barren grown Of Story, we have all Invention stretched, Dived low as to the Centre, and then reached Unto the Primum mobile above: (Nor scaped things intermediate) for your love, These have been Acted often, all have passed Censure; of which some live, and some are cast: For this in agitation, stay the end, Though nothing please, yet nothing can offend. THus from the holy Wars are we returned, To, slumber in the Summer of soft peace, Since those proud enemies that late blasphemed And spit their furies in the face of Heaven, Are now laid low in dust. Dread Sovereign. The Heavens have showed their bounty unto us, In guarding your most dear and sacred life From opposite hatred, and that imminent peril To which you were engaged. When in one battle you were twice unhorsed, Girt with the opposite ranks of Infidels, That had not timely rescue come from Heaven, Mortal assistance had been used in vain. ay, now you load me with a surplusage, Of comprlesse debets this thrice valiant Lord My noble martial, twice that perilous day Did he bestride me, and beneath his Targe. methought that instant did I lie as safe As in my best and strongest Citadel; The whilst his bright Sword like the Bolt of Iove, Pierced the steel-crests of barbarous Infidels, And flatted them with earth; although my Subject, Yet in this one thing thou hast proved my Lord: For when my life was forfeit to the Wars, Thou by thy valour didst redeem it freely, And gav'st it me, whilst thou engag'st thy life: For which if ever by like chance of War, law's forfeiture, or our prerogative, Thy life come in like danger, here we swear By our earth's honours, and our hopes divine, As thou for us, we'll ours engage for thine. You give my Lord, to Duty Attributes Too high for her submiss humility: I am your vassal, and ten thousand lives Of equal rank with mine, subjects and servants, Be overrated if compared with yours.
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)
To give content to this most curious Age, The gods themselves we' have brought downe to the Stage, And figur'd them in Planets, made even Hell Deliver up the Furies, by no spell, (Saving the Muses rapture) further, we Have traffickt by their helpe; no History We have left unrifled, our Pens have, beene dipt As well in opening each hid Manuscript, As Tracts more vulgar, whether read, or sung In our domesticke, or more forraigne tongue: Of Faiery Elves, Nymphs of the Sea, and Land; The Lawnes and Groves, no number can be scan'd Which we have not given feet to, nay 'tis knowne, That when our Chronicles have barren growne Of Story, we have all Invention stretcht, Div'd low as to the Center, and then reacht Unto the Primum mobile above: (Nor scapt things intermediate) for your love, These have beene Acted often, all have past Censure; of which some live, and some are cast: For this in agitation, stay the end, Though nothing please, yet nothing can offend. THus from the holy Warres are we return'd, To, slumber in the Summer of soft peace, Since those proud enemies that late blaspheamd And spit their furies in the face of Heaven, Are now laid low in dust. Dread Soveraigne. The Heavens have shew'd their bounty unto us, In guarding your most deare and isacred life From opposite hatred, and that imminent perill To which you were ingag'd. When in one battile you were twice unhorst, Guirt with the opposite rankes of Infidels, That had not timely rese come from Heaven, Mortall assistance had beene us'd in vaine. Ey, now you load me with a surpludge, Of comprlesse debe this thrice My noble Martiall, twice that pellous day Did he bestride me, and beneath his Targe. Me thought that instant did I lie as safe As in my best and strongest Cittadell; The whilst his bright Sword like the Bolt of Iove, Pierc't the steele-crests of barbarous Insidels, And flatted them with earth; although my Subject, Yet in this one thing thou hast prov'd my Lord: For when my life was forfeit to the Warres, Thou by thy valour didst redeeme it freely, And gav'st it me, whilst thou ingag'st thy life: For which if ever by like chance of Warre, Lawes forfeiture, or our prerogative, Thy life come in like danger, here we sweare By our earths honours, and our hopes divine, As thou for us, wee'le ours ingage for thine. You give my Lord, to Duty Attributes Too high for her submisse humility: I am your vassall, and ten thousand lives Of equall ranke with mine, subjects and servants, Be over-rated if compar'd with yours.