The Seven Champions of Christendom · chunk 5 of 43
Kirke, John · published 1638 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1638] (Annals) romance · Red Bull Company (second) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
That's my sweet boy; and now to give thee further Trial of my love, to thee alone the ransom shall belong Of six obscured Champions in my cave, a sight Thou never yet beheldst, my loving boy: Tarpax bring forth those daring Champions That were sent to kill great Calib, And confound my charm. Oh they are come: This is, my George, the fiery youth of Spain, Called by the name of Iames: this Anthony of Italy: This the brave Northern Knight, brave Andrew: This Ireland's Patrick: Britain's David this: And this the lively brisk cross capering French man Denis: There take 'em to thee, use 'em as thou please; Their armour and their weapons too are thine: With which the scarecrows came to fright us hence. A sight would pierce a rock, Goodly shaped persons, how I suffer for them? But yet I must dissemble love and pity: Are these 'em Mother? take them away, They have been used too well; we'll think Of harder pain and courser fare. That's my best George, take this charming wand; Make trial of it then against this rock, And with once waving it about thy head, The mortis sinewed stones shall cleave in sunder, And gape like an insatiate grave, to swallow up what's thereon: And do but wish that it should close again, Give but the other wave, and it is done: There George I give it thee. Thanks loving Mother. Ha, 'twas Tarpax voice. Fool, fool, Calib fool. O my fear struck shaken heart. What ails my mother? Nay, nothing George: I must a while retire; Be not you absent, a minute's Space shall send me back again. Though borne in bastardy, how happy was my fate, In this good Calib; she's cruel unto others, And few or none, whose foot do chance to stray Near the abiding of this great enchantress, But deaths therein, to which they travail to. A world of fancies dance about my brains. And shapes methinks, which says I am no bastard: Or what a war myself hath with myself, And spurs me on to know what Fate denies me: She told me too my Parentage was noble, But name and Title she obscured from me: How, or which way; oh I have't, I will make trial Of her sorcery: she said, what I desired to see or know, This rod wave 'bout my head should amplify: Take courage George then, though they loved not thee, Yet thus I do desire their shapes to see. Defend me all you ministers of grace. I answer to that name: say on. Then first to settle these thy wandering thoughts, Thou art our son, truly legitimate; Vomit the thought of Bastard, thou art none, But heir to the Earl of Coventry. O say, resolve me complete shadows of my Parents, Upon my knees with Reverence I bow, tell me, oh tell me, Since from your airy shapes I hear both sound & voice Add to distressed George a second birth and life, In saying that ye live.
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)
That's my ſweete boy; and now to give thee further Triall of my love, to thee alone the ranſome ſhall belong Of ſixe obſcur'd Champions in my cave, a ſight Thou never yet beheldſt, my loving boy: Tarpax bring forth thoſe daring Champions That were ſent to kill great Calib, And confound my charme. Oh they are come: This is, my George, the fiery youth of Spain, Cal'd by the name of Iames: this Anthony of Italy: This the brave Northerne Knight, brave Andrew: This Irelands Patricke: Brittaines David this: And this the lively briske croſſe capring French man Denis: There take 'em to thee, uſe em as thou pleaſe; Their armour and their weapons too are thine: With which the ſcare-crowes came to fright us hence. A ſight would pierce a rocke, Goodly ſhapt perſons, how I ſuffer for them? But yet I muſt diſſemble love and pitty: Are theſe 'em Mother? take them away, They have beene us'd too well; wee'le thinke Of harder paine and courſer fare. Thats my beſt George, take this charming wand; Make tryall of it then againſt this rocke, And with once waving it about thy head, The mortis ſinnewed ſtones ſhall cleave in ſunder, And gape like an inſatiate grave, to ſwalow up what's theron: And doe but wiſh that it ſhould cloſe agen, Give but the other wave, and it is done: There George I give it thee. Thankes loving Mother. Ha, 'twas Tarpax voyce. Foole, foole, Calib foole. O my feare ſtrooke ſhaken heart. What ailes my mother? Nay, nothing George: I muſt a while retire; Be not you abſent, a minutes Space ſhall ſend me back agen. Though borne in baſtardy, how happy was my fate, In this good Calib; ſhe's cruell unto others, And few or none, whoſe foote doe chance to ſtray Neare the abiding of this great inchantreſſe, But deaths therein, to which they travaile to. A world of fancies dance about my braines. And ſhapes me thoughts, which ſaies I am no baſtard: Or what a warre my ſelfe hath with my ſelfe, And ſpurres me on to know what Fate denies me: She told me too my Parentage was noble, But name and Title ſhe obſcur'd from mee: How, or which way; oh I hav't, I will make tryall Of her ſorcery: ſhe ſaid, what I deſir'd to ſee or know, This rod wave 'bout my head ſhould amplifie: Take courage George then, though they lov'd not thee, Yet thus I doe deſire their ſhapes to ſee. Defend me all you miniſters of grace. J anſwer to that name: ſay on. Then firſt to ſettle theſe thy wandring thoughts, Thou art our ſonne, truely legitimate; Vomit the thought of Baſtard, thou art none, But heire to the Earle of Coventry. O ſay, reſolve me compleat ſhadows of my Parents, Vpon my knees with Reverence I bow, tell me, oh tell me, Since from your ayrie ſhapes I heare both ſound & voice Adde to diſtreſſed George a ſecond birth and life, In ſaying that yee live.