Lower, William · published 1639 · first performed or written 1639 [c.1622-1639] (Annals) not in BritDrama unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 454 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
This makes me wonder much that her ambition Bears such an humble wing, we must not suffer This business to run on, what though we are Bound to Amandus in a high degree, Yet not so much his benefits oblige us As to confer our Daughter and our Crown Upon his merits, whose poor state is such As he can give her nothing for a Dower: This must nor shall not be, our full endeavour Shall be employed this love to break and sever. Why how now noble Prince, within a dump? How come you so dejected in your thoughts I do beseech you? hath your love sped ill Unto the fair Phoenicia, or some other Ill accident befall you, that you are So melancholy Sir? My dearest friend, Welcome; the mistress of my thoughts hath slain me With too much cruelty alas, for when I marched with my army led by love, And came before the fortress of her beauty, To lay my siege there, how she played upon me From all her batteries, but when I began To make approach. then from her angry eyes Flew balls of wildfire, and granadoes followed, Which scorched and rent my heart, but last of all, The cannon of her mouth so thundered on My poor besieging thoughts, as I was fain To raise my siege in haste, and get me gone, This is the poor success of my design. D'ye know Sir what's the cause you speed so ill? I have been thinking on't, but cannot lay The blame on any thing but fortune's malice, Can you inform me better? Would I could not. I have found out Amandus hath her heart, By what smooth guile, or Siren oratory He won her to himself; I am not able To give you satisfaction, or to guess it: This ancient enemy of yours and mine, (For who stands ill affected unto you, Shall ne'er affected be by me your friend) Hath now the second time deceived your match. Wrong of all wrongs! disgrace of all disgrace! So to be cheated of two princely brides: Sir, you must be revenged, deeply revenged, Or else your Princely name will be reproached With foulest infamy that can be spoke. Blind men and boys will sing you in the streets In Ballads, and at length 'twill grow a proverb, So patient as the Prince of Persia, If you sustain those injuries which lie So heavy on your Princely reputation. I am even burst with rage and jealousy, That villain, vagabond, that renegado, Borne to be author of my sufferings, Shall not outlive one day; I am incensed Beyond all measure, and I cannot longer Contain myself, I'll find that beggar out.
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)
This makes me wonder much that her ambition Beares such an humble wing, we must not suffer This businesse to runne on, what though we are Bound to Amandus in a high degree, Yet not so much his benefits oblige us As to conferre our Daughter and our Crowne Vpon his merits, whose poore state is such As he can give her nothing for a Dower: This must nor shall not be, our full indevour Shall be imploy'd this love to breake and sever. Why how now noble Prince, within a dump? How come you so dejected in your thoughts I do beseech you? hath your love sped ill Vnto the faire Phaenicia, or some other Ill accident befall you, that you are So melancholy Sir? My dearest friend, Welcome; the mistresse of my thoughts hath slain me With too much cruelty alas, for when I marched with my army led by love, And came before the fortresse of her beauty, To lay my siege there, how she playd upon me From all her batteries, but when I began To make approach. then from her angry eyes Flew balles of wilde-fire, and granadoes follow'd, Which scorch't and rent my heart, but last of all, The cannon of her mouth so thundred on My poore besieging thoughts, as I was faine To raise my siege in haste, and get me gone, This is the poore successe of my designe. D'ye know Sir what's the cause you speed so ill? I have been thinking on't, but cannot lay The blame on any thing but fortunes malice, Can you informe me better? Would I could not. I have found out Amandus hath her heart, By what smooth guile, or Syren oratorie He wonne her to himselfe; I am not able To give you satisfaction, or to gusse it: This ancient enemy of yours and mine, (For who stands ill affected unto you, Shall ne're affected be by me your friend) Hath now the second time deceiv'd your match. Wrong of all wrongs! disgrace ef all disgrace! So to be cheated of two princely brides: Sir, you must be reveng'd, deeply reveng'd, Or else your Princely name will be reproach'd With foulest infamy that can be spoke. Blinde men and boyes will sing you in the streets In Ballads, and at length 'twill grow a proverb, So patient as the Prince of Persia, If you sustaine those injuries which lye So heavy on your Princely reputation. I am even burst with rage and jealousie, That villaine, vagabond, that enegado, Borne to be author of my sufferings, Shall not out-live one day; I am incens'd Beyond all measure, and I cannot longer Containe my selfe, I'le finde that begger out.