The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 14 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T53 The crown: kingship claimed, resigned an · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T53: crown, king, state, life, lord, lords, live, queen, tullia, prince.
Your highness bounty in so high degreé, Were cause enough to move me to my best. But sure yourself, without regard of meed, Should find both me and mine at your command. Lord Gilla, if my hope may take success, And that I be thereby undoubted King, The Cornish Dukedom I allot to you. My Liege to further your desired attempts, I joyfully shall spend my dearest blood. The rather, that I found the King your Sire So heavy Lord to me, and all my stock. Since then our rest is on't, and we agreed To war it out: what resteth now but blows? drive Destinies on with swords, Mars frames the means, Henceforth what Mordred may, now lies in you. Ere long if Mars ensue with good success, Look whatsoe'er it be, that Arthur claims, By right, a wrong, or conquests gained with blood, In Britain, or abroad is mine to give. To show I would have said: I cannot give, What every hand must give unto itself. Whereof who lists to purchase any share, Now let him seek and win it with his Sword: The Fates have laid it open in the field. What Stars (O Heavens) or Poles, or Powers divine Do grant so great rewards for those that win? Since then our common good, and each man's care Requires our joint assistance in these toils: Shall we not hazard our extremest hap, And rather spend our Fates, then spare our foes? The cause, I care for most, is chiefly yours: This hand and heart shall make mine own secure. That man shall see me foiled by myself, whate'er he be, that seés my foe unfoiled. Fear not the field because of Mordred'S faults, Nor shrink one jot the more for Arthur's right. Full safely Fortune guideth many a guilt, And Fates have none but wretches whom they wrench. Wherefore make sped to cheer your soldiers hearts, That to their fires you yet may add more flames. The side that seeks to win in civil wars, Must not content itself with wonted heat. WOuld God your highness had been more advised, Ere too much will had drawn your wits too far: Then had no wars endangered you, nor yours, Nor Mordred'S cause required foreign care. A troubled head: my mind revolts to fear, And bears my body back: I inwards feel my fall. My thoughts misgive me much: down terror: I Perceive mine end: and desperate though I must Despise Despair, and somewhat hopeless hope. The more I doubt, the more I dare: by fear I find the fact is fittest for my fame. What though I be a ruin to the Realm, And fall myself therewith? No better end. His last mishaps do make a man secure. Such was King Priam's end, who, when he died, Closed and wrapped up his Kingdom in his death. A solemn pomp, and fit for Mordred'S mind, To be a grave and tomb to all his Realm.
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)
Your highnes bountie in so high degreé, Were cause inough to moue me to my best. But sure your selfe, without regard of meéde, Should finde both me and mine at your commaund. Lord Gilla, if my hope may take successe, And that I be thereby vndoubted King, The Cornish Dukedome I allot to you. My Liedge to further your desir'd attempts, I ioyfully shall spend my dearest blood. The rather, that I found the King your Sire So heauy Lord to me, and all my stocke. Since then our rest is on't, and we agreéd To warre it out: what resteth now but blowes? Driue Destnies on with swords, Mars frames the meanes, Henceforth what Mordred may, now lies in you. Ere long if Mars insue with good successe, Looke whatsoe'r it be, that Arthur claimes, By right, a wrong, or conquests gaind with blood, In Brytaine, or abroade is mine to giue. To shewe I would haue said: I cannot giue, What euery hand must giue vnto it selfe. Whereof who lists to purchase any share, Now let him seéke and winne it with his Sword: The Fates haue laide it open in the field. What Starres (O Heauens) or Poles, or Powers diuine Doe graunt so great rewards for those that winne? Since then our common good, and ech mans care Requires our ioint assistance in these toyles: Shall we not hazard our extreamest hap, And rather spend our Fates, then spare our foes? The cause, I care for most, is chiefely yours: This hand and hart shall make mine owne secure. That man shall seé me foiled by my selfe, What e'r he be, that seés my foe vnfoilde. Feare not the feild because of Mordreds faults, Nor shrinke one iotte the more for Arthurs right. Full safely Fortune guideth many a guilt, And Fates haue none but wretches whom they wrenche. Wherefore make speéde to cheare your Souldiers harts, That to their fires you yet may adde more flames. The side that seékes to winne in ciuill warres, Must not content it selfe with woonted heate. WOuld God your highnes had beéne more aduisde, Ere too much will had drawen your wits too farre: Then had no warres indangerd you, nor yours, Nor Mordreds cause required forreine care. A troubled head: my minde reuolts to feare, And beares my body backe: I inwards féle my fall. My thoughts misgeue me much: downe terror: I Perceiue mine ende: and desperate though I must Despise Dispaire, and somewhat hopelesse hope. The more I doubt, the more I dare: by feare I finde the fact is fittest for my fame. What though I be a ruine to the Realme, And fall my selfe therewith? No better end. His last mishaps doe make a man secure. Such was King Priams ende, who, when he dyed, Closde and wrapt vp his Kingdome in his death. A solemne pompe, and fit for Mordreds minde, To be a graue and tombe to all his Realme.