Shirley, James · published 1637 · first performed or written 1633 [licensed for stage, Jul 3] (Annals) tragicomedy · Queen Henrietta Maria's Men · Phoenix/Cockpit unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Those walls Are certainly the same, and that the City Peopled when we launched forth, and full of prayers For our success. It may be they reserve Their welcome till we march into the City. They may have some conceit. A general silence Like night dwells round about us, and no sign That men inhabit, have we won at Sea To lose ourselves upon the Land? or in Our absence hath some monster landed here And made it desolate, devoured the Natives, And made 'em creep into the earth again? They might salute us with one piece of ordnance. They cannot take us for their enemies, Captain inquire the cause, let none else move; Yet stay, unless it be some strange mortality, And yet that cannot be, have we brought home Their safety purchased through so many horrors, And is this all the payment for our conquest? To shut the gates upon us. Force them open With the Canon, shake their walls about their ears, They are asleep. For such another rashness Thy head shall be the bullet of that Canon, And shot into the town; go to! be temperate, As I grudge none the merit of their valour, I must hear none so bold. I ha' done sir. Subjects are bound to fight for princes, they Not bound to the reward of every service, I look upon thee now fighting at sea, And have forgot this error, give no breath To such a thought hereafter. Honour pays Double where Kings neglect, and he is valiant Truly that dares forget to be rewarded. This is but cold comfort for a knapsack man. And yet 'tis strange the King should thus neglect us, This is cheap entertainment for a conqueror Is't not Mauritio? misery of Soldiers When they have sweat blood for their country's honour, They stand at other's mercy. They have slept since And dreamt not of our sufferings. Is the Prince Alive, to whom we owe our Countries quarrel The difference of both Kingdoms? Our war and fortunes justify his act Can he be guilty of this shame? no more, There's something would fain mutiny within me, Strangle the snakes betime Vittori— so This was a way to forfeit all our fames; Fold up your Ensigns throw off all the pride That may express a triumph, well march on As we had over bought our victory. The gates are opened now, and we discover A woman by her veil, in mourning habit, Coming this way Alone? more strange and fatal, It may be 'tis my genius come to give A melancholy warning of my death, As Brutus had from his, I'll stand my destiny, Yet bearing the resemblance of a woman It will less terrify, who should this be? Lady your garment speaks you a sad woman, Griefs should salute no nearer, if it were In poor Vittory's power to dispossess you Of any sorrow.
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)
Those walls Are certainely the same, and that the City Peopled when we launch'd forth, and full of prayers For our successe. It may be they reserve Their welcome till we march into the City. They may have some conceit. A generall silence Like night dwels round about us, and no signe That men inhabite, have we wonne at Sea To lose our selves upon the Land? or in Our absence hath some monster landed here And made it desolate, devour'd the Natives, And made em creepe into the earth agen? They might salute us with one peece of ordnance. They cannot take us for their enemies, Captaine enquire the cause, let none else move; Yet stay, unlesse it be some strange mortality, And yet that cannot be, have we brought home Their safety purchas'd through so many horrours, And is this all the payment for our conquest? To shut the gates upon us. Force them open With the Canon, shake their walls about their eares, They are asleepe. For such another rashnesse Thy head shall be the bullet of that Canon, And shot into the towne; go to! be temperate, As I grudge none the merit of their valour, I must heare none so bold. I ha done sir. Subjects are bound to fight for princes, they Not bound to the reward of every service, I looke upon thee now fighting at sea, And have forgot this error, give no breath To such a thought hereafter▪ Honour payes Double where Kings neglect, and he is valiant Truely that dares forget to be rewarded. This is but cold comfort for a knapsacke man. And yet tis strange the King should thus neglect us, This is cheape entertainement for a conquerour Ist not Mauritio? misery of Souldiers When they have sweat blood for their Countries honour, They stand at others mercy. They have slept since And dream't not of our sufferings. Is the Prince Alive, to whom we owe our Countries quarrell The difference of both Kingdomes? Our warre and fortunes justifie his act Can he be guilty of this shame? no more, There's something would faine mutinie within me, Strangle the snakes betime Vittori—so This was a way to forfeit all our fames; Fold up your Ensignes throw off all the pride That may expresse a triumph, well march on As we had over bought our victory. The gates are opend now, and we discover A woman by her veile, in mourning habit, Comming this way Alone? more strange and fatall, It may be tis my genius come to give A melancholy warning of my death, As Brutus had from his, Ile stand my destiny, Yet bearing the resemblance of a woman It will lesse terrifie, who should this be? Lady your garment speakes you a sad woman, Greefes should salute no neerer, if it were In poore Vittories power to dispossesse you Of any sorrow.