Rutter, Joseph / Corneille, Pierre · published 1637 · first performed or written 1637 [1637-1638] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 485 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
Dare the Moores stir? Their vessels are discovered At the river's mouth, and you know how easily At a full Sea they may come up. The battles They've lost already, should make 'em lose the heart To set on such a Conqueror as you. They cannot but with Jealousy look on, Seeing me rule in Andalusia, And this fair Country, which I took from them, Keeps their designs awake. It is the reason, Why here in Seville I have placed my Throne, That being near 'em'ee I may be more ready To meet with their attempts. Sir, they have learned, At the great charge of their own heads by this time, How much your presence does assure your conquest, Y' have nothing Sir, to fear. Nor to neglect: Too much assurance still draws danger with it: The enemy which we now think to destroy, If he can take his time, may annoy us. But yet since I'm not certain of my news, I would not stir up in my subjects' hearts Vain panic terrors, or this present night Affright the City with a false alarm: Let the haven be well guarded, and the walls, And for this night it shall suffice. Sir, the Count is dead, Roderigo's hand has satisfied his father. I divined what would follow, when I first Heard of th' affront, and would ha' then prevented it. Sir, here's Cimena, who presents her grief Upon her knees, with tears demanding justice. Although my soul suffer with his misfortunes, Th' affront he did, deserved the punishment, Which though it were most just, yet can't I lose Without regret, a servant of his merit. Justice, Sir, Justice, I ask it on my knees. O Sir give ear to my defence. Revenge my father's death. Of him that punished the highest insolence. Roderigo, Sir, Has done the office of an honest man. Has killed my father. Has revenged his own. A King owes justice to his subjects' blood. A just revenge can fear no punishment. Rise both of you, and speak without disturbance, I bear a part, Cimena, in thy sufferings. Trouble her not, when she has done, I'll hear you. My father's slain, Sir, and these eyes have seen His blood gush out in bubbles; that dear blood Which has so oft preserved your walls, so oft Been fired to gain you battles, and which yet reeks with just anger, to have been spilled for any But you the King, which war durst never draw, Roderigo in your Court has made to flow Upon the earth, and for his first essay, Has ta'en away the firm prop of your State, Breathless, and pale, I came unto the place, And found him dead! Dead! pardon Sir, my grief, My voice does fail me, let my tears speak the rest. Daughter, take comfort, and be confident Thou hast a King will be a Father to thee.
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)
Dare the Moores ſtirre? Their veſſels are diſcover'd At the Rivers mouth, and you know how eaſily At a full Sea they may come up. The battailes Tthey've loſt already, ſhould make 'um looſe the heart To ſet on ſuch a Conquerour as you. They cannot but with Jealouzy looke on, Seeing me rule in Andalouzia, And this faire Country, which I tooke from them, Keepes their deſignes awake. It is the reaſon, Why here in Sevill I have plac'd my Throne, That being neere'um I may be more ready To meet with their attempts. Sir, they have learnt, At the great charge of their owne heads by this time, How much your preſence does aſſure your conqueſt, Y' have nothing Sir, to feare. Nor to neglect: Too much aſſurance ſtill drawes danger with it: The enemy which we now thinke to deſtroy, If he can take his time, may annoy us. But yet ſince I'me not certaine of my newes, I would not ſtirre up in my ſubjects hearts Vaine panique terrors, or this preſent night Affright the City with a falſe alarme: Let the haven be well guarded, and the wals, And for this night it ſhall ſuffice. Sir, the Count is dead, Roderigo's hand has ſatisfied his father. I divin'd what would follow, when I firſt Heard of th' affront, and would ha' then prevented it. Sir, here's Cimena, who preſents her griefe Upon her knees, with teares demanding juſtice. Although my ſoule ſuffer with his misfortunes, Th' affront he did, deſerv'd the puniſhment, Which though it were moſt juſt, yet can't I loſe Without regret, a ſervant of his merit. Juſtice, Sir, Juſtice, I aske it on my knees. O Sir give eare to my defence. Revenge my fathers death. Of him that puniſht the higheſt inſolence. Roderigo, Sir, Has done the office of an honeſt man. Has kill'd my father. Has reveng'd his owne. A King owes juſtice to his ſubjects bloud. A juſt revenge can feare no puniſhment. Riſe both of you, and ſpeake without diſturbance, I beare a part, Cimena, in thy ſufferings. Trouble her not, when ſhe has done, I'le heare you. My father's ſlaine, Sir, and theſe eyes have ſeene His bloud guſh out in bubles; that deare bloud Which has ſo oft preſerv'd your wals, ſo oft Been fir'd to gaine you battailes, and which yet Reakes with juſt anger, to have beene ſpilt for any But you the King, which war durſt never draw, Roderigo in your Court has made to flow Upon the earth, and for his firſt eſſay, Has tane away the firme prop of your State, Breathleſſe, and pale, I came unto the place, And found him dead! Dead! pardon Sir, my griefe, My voyce does faile mee, let my teares ſpeake the reſt. Daughter, take comfort, and be confident Thou haſt a King will be a Father to thee.