Rowley, William · published 1638 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1609] (Annals) romance · Prince Charles's Men (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Tut, that Title's lost, thou art now Within my power: fly to King Roderick, And glad his ears with news of what you see, And with our Drums proclaim the victory. Base Goth look up, and see here hovers Eagle Winged victory, recovered from thy troops. 'Sdeath lost again. Fight Warlike Britons, free your Emperor. We shall, or die: This holds the Goths death; this thy liberty. Twice is my life indebted to thy valour: Admired Soldier, if I win the day, Never had Britain Soldier such a pay As thou shalt have. Talk not of debts, or pay, let's hence and fight; As long as I have breath I'll hold your right. soldiers' troop close, our task is not yet done; I'll keep your Eagle till the battle's won. Keep it with fame. Even to my latest breath. The glory's thine, thou hast saved me twice from death. This Britons are all Devils, And amongst them there's one master Devil, That bears the face of a base Common soldier; Yet on his horns he tosseth up our Vandals. Now, what News? Roderick fly, and save thy life; Huldrick the King of Goths is slain. I out go him in life, he me in fame: In spite we'll after him with glorious wings, A bloody field is a brave Tomb for Kings. Hazard not all at one cast, since you see The Dice runs high against ye; but give way, Set not the board when you see fortune play: Winning the main no safety 'tis to fight. How then? Over the Rhine my Lord make speedy flight; The wheel of Chance may turn, and the dice run For us to get, what now our foes have won. Now to the Royal hand of Caesar I resign The high Imperial Ensign of great Rome; And with it, this wild tusked Boar, the stubborn Vandal, Snared in the toils, and conquered by this sword; I could have served his head up at your board: But since for glory, more than blood we strive, I'd rather have a Lion ta'e alive. Noble thou art, as valiant, And this day thy only sword the greater half Hath won, and we must pay thy merits. What's thy name? Crispianus sir. Of what birth or fortunes. You may read them here, writ on my bosom sir: A common Soldier, yet were my Parents Good and generous, they dead, and I down sinking in my state, As others do, I swore to cross the Fate that crossed me: and when all hopes else did fade, I got my living by an honest trade: A Shoemaker my Lord, where merrily, With frolic mates, I spent my days, till when, Being pressed to wars amongst my Countrymen, Hither I came, and here my prize is played, For Britain's honour, and my Master's trade: This Vandal is my Prisoner: frown not sir, Great looks can ne'er put down a Shoemaker. Your fortune rises sir, and I must bow: I was ne'er i'th' shoemaker's stocks till now.
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)
Tut, that Title's lost, thou art now Within my power: flye to King Rodericke, And glad his eares with newes of what you see, And with our Drummes proclaime the victory. Base Goth looke up, and see here hovers Eagle Winged victory, recoverd from thy troopes. S'death lost agen. Fight Warlike Brittaines, free your Emperour. We shall, or dye: This holds the Goths death; this thy liberty. Twice is my life indebted to thy valour: Admired Souldier, if I winne the day, Never had Brittaine Souldier such a pay As thou shalt have. Talke not of debts, or pay, let's hence and fight; As long as I have breath Ile hold your right. Souldiers troope close, our taske is not yet done; Ile keepe your Eagle till the battaile's wonne. Keepe it with fame. Even to my latest breath. The glory's thine, thou hast sav'd me twice from death. This Brittaines are all Divells, And amongst them there's one master Divell, That beares the face of a base Common souldier; Yet on his hornes he tosseth up our Vandals. Now, what Newes? Rodericke flye, and save thy life; Huldrick the King of Goths is slaine. I out goe him in life, he me in fame: In spight weele after him with glorious wings, A bloody field is a brave Tombe for Kings. Hazard not all at one cast, since you see The Dice runnes high against yee; but give way, Set not the board when you see fortune play: Winning the maine no safety 'tis to fight. How then? Over the Rhine my Lord make speedy flight; The wheele of Chance may turne, and the dice runne For us to get, what now our foes have wonne. Now to the Royall hand of Caesar I resigne The high Imperiall Ensigne of great Rome; And with it, this wilde usked Boare, the stubborne Vandall, Snar'd in the toyles, and conquerd by this sword; I could have serv'd his head up at your board: But since for glory, more than blood we strive, I'de rather have a Lyon ane alive. Noble thou art, as valiant, And this day thy onely sword the greater halfe Hath wonne, and we must pay thy merits. Whats thy name? Crispianus sir. Of what birth or fortunes. You may reade them here, writ on my bosome sir: A common Souldier, yet were my Parents Good and generous, they dead, and I downe sinking in my state, As others doe, I swore to crosse the Fate that crossed me: and when all hopes else did fade, I got my living by an honest trade: A Shooe-maker my Lord, where merrily, With frolicke mates, I spent my dayes, till when, Being prest to warres amongst my Countrey-men, Hither I came, and here my prize is playd, For Brittaines honour, and my Masters trade: This Vandall is my Prisoner: frowne not sir, Great lookes can nere put downe a Shooe-maker. Your fortune rises sir, and I must bow: I was nere i'th Shooemakers stockes till now.