The Misfortunes of Arthur (Certain Devices and Shows Presented to Her Majesty) · chunk 28 of 35
Hughes, Thomas / Fulbecke, William · published 1587 · first performed or written 1588 [Feb 28] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 527 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
COme cruel griefs, spare not to stretch our strengths, Whiles baleful breasts invite our thumping fists. Let every sign, that mournful passions work, Express what piteous plights our minds amaze. This day suppliants what no day can supply, These hands have wrought those wastes, that never age, Nor all the brood of Brute shall e'er repair. That future men may joy the surer rest, These wars prevent their birth, and nip their spring. What Nations erst the former age subdued With hourly toils to Britain yoke, this day Hath set at large, and backwards turned the Fates. Henceforth the Kerns may safely tread their bogs: The Scots may now their inroads old renew, The Saxons well may vow their former claims, And Danes without their danger drive us out. These wars found not the effect of wonted wars, Nor doth their weight the like impression work: There several Fates annoyed but several men, Here all the Realm and people find one Fate. What there did reach but to a soldiers death, Contains the death of all a Nation here. These blades have given this Isle a greater wound, Than time can heal. The fruit of civil wars: A Kingdom's hand hath gored a Kingdom's heart, When Fame shall blaze these acts in latter years, And time to come so many ages hence Shall efts report our toils and British pains: Or when perhaps our Children's Children read, Our woeful wars displayed with skilful pen: They'll think they here some sounds of future facts, And not the ruins old of pomp long passed. 'twill move their minds to ruth, and frame a fresh New hopes, and fears, and vows, and many a wish, And Arthur's cause shall still be favoured most. He was the joy, and hope, and hap of all, The realms defence, the sole delay of Fates, He was our wall and fort, twice thirteen years His shoulders did the Britain state support. Whiles yet he reigned, no foreign foes prevailed, Nor once could hope to bind the Britain bounds: But still both far and near were forced to fly, They thrall to us, we to ourselves were free. But now, and henceforth aye, adieu that hope, adieu that pomp, that freedom, rule and all: Let Saxons now, let Normans, Danes, and Scots. Enjoy our meadows, fields, and pleasant plains: Come, let us fly to Mountains, Cliffs and Rocks, A Nation hurt, and ne'er in case to heal. Henceforth the weight of Fates thus fallen aside, We rest secure from fear of greater foil: Our leisure serves to think on former times, And know what erst we were, who now are thus. O Britain prosperous state wert Heavenly powers But half so willing to preserve thy peace, As they are prone to plague thee for thy wars. But thus (O God's) yea, thus it likes you still. When you decree to turn, and touse the world, To make our errors cause of your decrees. We fretting fume, and burning wax right wood, We cry for swords, and harmful harness crave, We rashly rave, whiles from our present rage, You frame a cause of long foredeemed doom.
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)
COme cruell griefes, spare not to stretch our strengths, Whiles bailefull breastes inuite our thumping fists. Let euery signe, that mournefull passions worke, Expresse what piteous plightes our mindes amaze. This day supplants what no day can supply, These handes haue wrought those wastes, that neuer age, Nor all the broode of Brute shall e'r repaire. That future men may ioy the surer rest, These warres preuent their birth, and nip their spring. What Nations earst the former age subdude With hourelie toyles to Brytaines yoke, this day Hath set at large, and backwardes turnde the Fates. Hencefoorth the Kernes may safely tread their bogges: The Scots may now their inrodes olde renewe, The Saxon well may vow their former claimes, And Danes without their danger driue vs out. These warres found not the'ffect of woonted warres, Nor doth their waight the like impression woorke: There seuerall Fates annoyde but seuerall men, Heere all the Realme and people finde one Fate. What there did reache but to a Souldiers death, Containes the death of all a Nation here. These blades haue giuen this Isle a greater wounde, Then tyme can heale. The fruite of ciuill warres: A Kingdom's hand hath goard a Kingdom's heart, When Fame shall blaze these acts in latter yeares, And time to come so many ages hence Shall efts report our toyles and Brytish paynes: Or when perhaps our Childrens Children reade, Our woefull warres displaid with skilfull penne: They'l thinke they heere some sounds of future facts, And not the ruines olde of pompe long past. Twill mooue their mindes to ruth, and frame a fresh New hopes, and feares, and vowes, and many a wish, And Arthurs cause shall still be fauour'd most. He was the ioy, and hope, and hap of all, The Realmes defence, the sole delay of Fates, He was our wall and forte, twice thirteene yeares His shoulders did the Brytaine state support. Whiles yet he raignd, no forren foes preuailde, Nor once could hope to binde the Brytaine boundes: But still both farre and nere were forc'd to flie, They thrall to vs, we to our selues were free. But now, and hencefoorth aye, adue that hope, Adue that pompe, that freedome, rule and all: Let Saxons now, let Normans, Danes, and Scottes. Enioye our medowes, fieldes, and pleasant plaines: Come, let vs flye to Mountaines, Cliffes and Rockes, A Nation hurt, and ne'r in case to heale. Hencefoorth the waight of Fates thus falne aside, We res secure from feare of greater foile: Our leasure serues to thinke on former times, And know what earst we were, who now are thus. O Brytaines prosperous state wert Heauenlye powers But halfe so willing to preserue thy peace, As they are prone to plague thee for thy warres. But thus (O Gods) yea, thus it likes you still. When you decree to turne, and touse the worlde, To make our errors cause of your decrees. We fretting fume, and burning wax right wood, We crye for swordes, and harmefull harnesse craue, We rashly raue, whiles from our present rage, You frame a cause of long foredeemed doome.