The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 7 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.73 · 510 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Yet think what fame and grievous bruits would run Of such disloyal and unjust attempts. Fame goes not with our Ghosts, the senseless soul Once gone, neglects what vulgar bruit reports. She is both light and vain. She noteth though. She feareth States. She carpeth ne'er the less. She's soon suppressed. As soon she springs again, tongues are untamed: and Fame is envies Dog, That absent barks, and present fawns as fast. It fearing dares, and yet hath never done, But dures: though Death redeem us from all foes Besides, yet Death redeems us not from Tongues. e'er Arthur land, the Sea shall blush with blood. And all the strands with smoking slaughters reek. Now (Mars) protect me in my first attempt. If Mordred scape, this Realm shall want no wars. See here the drifts of Gorlois Cornish Duke, And deep desire to shake his sovereign's Throne: How foul his fall, how bitter his rebuke, Whiles wife, and weal, and life, and all be gone? He now in Hell tormented wants that good: Lo, lo the end of traitorous bones and blood. Pendragon broiled with flames of filthy fires, By Merlin's mists enjoyed Igerna's bed, Next spoiled Gorlois doubting his desires, Then was himself through force of poison sped. Who sows in sin, in sin shall reap his pain: The Doom is sworn: Death guerdons death again. Whiles Arthur wars abroad and reaps renown, Guenevora prefers his sons desire. And traitorous Mordred still usurps the Crown, Affording fuel to her quenchless fire. But Death's too good, and life too sweet for these, That wanting both, should taste of neither's ease. In Rome the gaping gulf would not decrease, Till Curtius' corpse had closed her yawning jaws: In Thebes the rot and Murrain would not cease, Till Laius' brood had paid for breach of laws: In Britain wars and discord will not stint: Till Uther's line and offspring quite be spent. LO here at length the stately type of Troy, And Britain land the promised seat of Brute. Decked with so many spoils of conquered Kings. Hail native soil, these nine years space unseen: To thee hath long renowned Rome at last Held up her hands, bereft of former pomp. But first inflamed with wonted valure's heat, Amidst our sorest siege and thickest broils, She stoutly fought, and fiercely waged wars. Tiberius' courage gave, upbraiding oft The Roman force, their wonted luck, and long Retained rule, by wars throughout the world. What shame it were, since such achieved spoils, And conquests gained both far and wide, to want Of courage then, when most it should be moved. How Britons erst paid tribute for their peace, But now rebel, and dare them at their doors: For what was France but theirs? Herewith incensed They fiercely raved, and bent their force afresh. Which Arthur spying, cried with thundering voice, Fie, (Britons) fie: what hath bewitched you thus? So many Nations foiled, must Romans foil? What sloth is this? Have you forgot to war, Which ne'er knew hour of peace? Turn to your foes,
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yet thinke what fame and grieuous bruits would runne Of such disloyall and vniust attempts. Fame goe's not with our Ghosts, the senselesse soule Once gone, neglects what vulgar bruite reports. She is both light and vaine. She noteth though. She feareth States. She carpeth ne'r the lesse. She's soone supprest. As soone she springs againe, Toungs are vntamde: and Fame is Enuies Dogge, That absent barckes, and present fawnes as fast. It fearing dares, and yet hath neuer done, But dures: though Death redeéme vs from all foes Besides, yet Death redeémes vs not from Toungs. E'r Arthur land, the Sea shall blush with blood. And all the Stronds with smoaking slaughters reéke. Now (Mars) protect me in my first attempt. If Mordred scape, this Realme shall want no warres. Se here the drifts of Gorlois Cornish Duke, And deepe desire to shake his Soueraignes Throne: How foule his fall, how bitter his rebuke, Whiles wife, and weale, and life, and all be gone? He now in Hell tormented wants that good▪ Lo, lo the end of trayterous bones and blood. Pendragon broylde with flames of filthy fires, By Merlins mists inioyde Igerna's bed, Next spoiled Gorlois doubting his desires, Then was himselfe through force of poyson sped. Who sowes in sinne, in sinne shall reape his paine: The Doome is sworne: Death guerdon's death againe. Whiles Arthur warres abroade and reapes renowne, Gueneuora preferres his sonnes desire. And trayterous Mordred still vsurpes the Crowne, Affording fuell to her quenchlesse fire. But Death's too good, and life too sweéte for thease, That wanting both, should tast of neithers ease. In Rome the gaping gulfe would not decrease, Till Curtius corse had closde her yawning awes▪ In Thb's the Rotte and Murreine would not cease, Till Laius broode had paide for breach of lawes: In Brytain warres and discord will not stent: Till Vther's line and offspring quite be spent. LO here at length the stately type of Troy, And Brytain land the promist seate of Brute. Deckt with so many spoyles of conquered Kings. Haile natiue soyle, these nine yeares space vnseéne: To theé hath long renowmed Rome at last Held vp her hands, bereaft of former pompe. But first inflamde with woonted valures heate, Amidst our sorest sedge and thickest broyles, She stoutly fought, and fiercely waged warres. Tiberius courage gaue, vpbraiding oft The Romane force, their woonted lucke, and long Retained rule, by warres throughout the world. What shame it were, since such atchiued spoiles, And conquests gaind both farre and wide, to want Of courage then, when most it should be mou'd. How Brytaines erst paide tribute for their peace, But now rebell, and dare them at their doores: For what was Fraunce but theirs? Herewith incenst They fiercely rau'd, and bent their force a fresh. Which Arthur spying, cryed with thundring voyce, Fye, (Brytaines) fye: what hath bewitcht you thus? So many Nations foilde, must Romans foile? What slouth is this? Haue you forgot to warre, Which ne'r knew houre of peace? Turne to your foes,