The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 25 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
The Skies and Poles opposed themselves with storms. Both East, and West with tempests dark were dimmed, And showers of Hail, and Rain outrageous poured. The Heavens were rent, each side the lightnings flashed, And Clouds with hideous claps did thundering roar. The armies all aghast did senseless stand, Mistrusting much, both Force, and Foes, and Fates. 'twas hard to say, which of the two appalled Them most, the monstrous air, or too much fear. When Arthur spied his Soldiers thus amazed, And hope extinct, and deadly dread drawn on: My mates (quoth he) the Gods do scour the skies, To see whose cause and courage craves their care. The Fates contend to work some strange event: And Fortune seéks by storms in Heavens and Earth, What pageants she may play for my behoof. Of whom she knows, she then deserves not well, When lingering ought, she comes not at the first. Thus said: rejoicing at his dauntless mind, They all revived, and former fear recoiled. By that the light of Titan's troubled beams Had piercing scattered down the drooping fogs, And greeted both the camps with mutual view: Their choler swells, whiles fell disposed minds Bounce in their breasts, and stir uncertain storms. Then paleness wan and stern with cheerless change, Possessing bleak their lips and bloodless cheeks, With troublous trembling shows their death is near. When Mordred saw the danger thus approached, And boisterous throngs of Warriors threatening blood: His instant ruins gave a nod at Fates, And mind though prone to Mars, yet daunted paused. The heart which promised erst a sure success, Now throbs in doubts: nor can his own attempts, Afford him fear, nor Arthur's yield him hope. This passion lasts not long, he soon recalls His ancient guise, and wonted rage returns. He loathes delays, and scorched with Sceptres lust, The time and place, wherein he oft had wished To hazard all upon extremest Chance, He offered spies, and spied pursues with speed. Then both the Armies met with equal might, This stirred with wrath, that with desire to rule: And equal prowess was a spur to both. The Irish King whirled out a poisoned Dart, That lighting pierced deep in Howel's brains, A peerless Prince and near of Arthur's blood. Hereat the Air with uproar loud resounds, Which eftsoon mountains rough rebounding rears. The Trumpets hoarse their trembling tunes do tear: And thundering Drums their dreadful Larums ring. The Standards broad are blown, and Ensigns spread, And every Nation bends his wonted wars. Some near their foes, some further off do wound, With dart, or sword, or shaft, or pike, or spear, The weapons hide the Heavens: a night composed Of warlike Engines overshades the field. From every side these fatal signs are sent: And boisterous bangs with thumping thwacks fall thick. Had both these Camps been of usurping Kings, Had every man thereof a Mordred been, No fiercelier had they fought for all their Crowns. The murders meanless waxed, no art in fight, Nor way to ward nor try each other's skill, But thence the blade, and hence the blood ensues.
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)
The Skies and Poles opposed themselues with stormes. Both East, and West with tempestes darke were dim'd, And showres of Hayle, and Rayne outragious powr'd. The Heauens were rent, ech side the lightnings flasht, And Clowdes with hideous clappes did thundering roare. The armies all agast did senselesse stand, Mistrusting much, both Force, and Foes, and Fates. T'was harde to say, which of the two appal'd Them most, the monstrous ayre, or too much feare. When Arthur spide his Souldiers thus amaz'd, And hope extinct, and deadly dreade drawne on: My mates (quoth he) the Gods doe skowre the skies, To seé whose cause and courage craues their care. The Fates contende to worke some straunge euent: And Fortune seéks by stormes in Heauens and Earth, What pagions she may play for my behoofe. Of whom she knowes, she then deserues not well, When lingring ought, she comes not at the first. Thus saide: reioycing at his dauntlesse minde, They all reuiude, and former feare recoylde. By that the light of Titan's troubled beames Had pearceing scattered downe the drowping fogges, And greeted both the Campes with mutuall viewe: Their choller swelles, whiles fell disposed mindes Bounce in their breastes, and stirre vncertayne stormes. Then palenes wanne and sterne with chearelesse chaunge, Possessing bleake their lippes and bloodlesse cheékes, With troublous trembling shewes their death is nere. When Mordred sawe the danger thus approacht, And boystrous throngs of Warriers threatning blood: His instant ruines gaue a nodde at Fates, And minde though prone to Mars, yet daunted pausde. The hart which promist earst a sure successe, Now throbs in doubts: nor can his owne attempts, Afforde him feare, nor Arthurs yeélde him hope. This passion lasts not long, he soone recalls His auncient guise, and wonted rage returnes. He loathes delayes, and scorcht with Scepters lust, The time and place, wherein he oft had wisht To hazarde all vpon extreamest Chaunce, He offred spies, and spide pursues with speéde. Then both the Armies mette with equall might, This stird with wrath, that with desire to rule: And equall prowesse was a spurre to both. The Irish King whirlde out a poysned Dart, That lighting pearced deépe in Howels braines, A peérelesse Prince and nere of Arthurs bloud. Hereat the Aire with vprore lowde resoundes, Which efts on mountains rough rebounding reares. The Trumpets hoarce their trembling tunes doe teare▪ And thundring Drummes their dreadfull Larums ring. The Standards broad are blowne, and Ensignes spread, And euery Nation bends his woonted warres. Some nere their foes, some further off doe wound, With dart, or sword, or shaft, or pike, or speare, The weapons hide the Heauens: a night composde Of warrelike Engines ouershades the field. From euery side these fatall signes are sent: And boystrous bangs with thumping thwacks fall thicke. Had both these Camps beéne of vsurping Kings, Had euery man thereof a Mordred beéne, No fiercelier had they fought for all their Crownes. The murthers meanelesse waxt, no art in fight, Nor way to ward nor trie each others skill, But thence the blade, and hence the bloud ensues.