Marlowe, Christopher · published 1590 · first performed or written 1587 [1587-1588] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so typicality 0.83 · 507 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
And wheresoever we repose ourselves, We will report but well of Tamburlaine. Disdains Zenocrate to live with me? Or you my Lords to be my followers? Think you I way this treasure more than you? Not all the Gold in India's wealthy arms, Shall buy the meanest soldier in my train. Zenocrate, lovelier than the Love of Ioue, Brighter than is the silver Rhodolfe, Fairer than whitest snow on Scythian hills, Thy person is more worth to Tamburlaine, Than the possession of the persian Crown. Which gracious starts have promised at my birth, A hundredth Tartars shall attend on thee, Mountrf on Steeds, swifter than Pegasus. Thy Garments shall be made of Medean silk, Enchased with precious jewels of mine own: More rich and valorous than Zenocrate's. With milk-white Hearts upon an ivory sled, Thou shalt be drawn amidst the frozen Pools, And scale the icy mountains lofty tops: Which with thy beauty will be soon resolved. My martial prizes with five hundred men, Won on the fifty headed Volga's waves. Shall all we offer to Zenocrate, And then myself to fair Zenocrate. What now? In love? Techelles, women must be flattered. But this is she with whom I am in love. News, news. How now, what's the matter? A thousand persian horsemen are at hand, Sent from the King to overcome us all. How now my Lords of Egypt & Zenocrate? Now must your jewels be restored again: And I that triumphed so be overcome. How say you Lordings, Is not this your hope? We hope yourself will willingly restore them. Such hope, such fortune have the thousand horse. Soft ye my Lords and sweet Zenocrate. You must be forced from me ere you go: A thousand horsemen: We five hundred foot? An odds too great, for us to stand against: But are they rich: And is their armour good? Their plumed helms are wrought with beaten gold. Their swords enameled, and about their necks Hangs massy chains of gold down to the waste, In every part exceeding brave and rich. Then shall we fight courageously with them. Or look you, I should play the Orator? No: cowards and faint-hearted runaways, Look for orations when the foe is near. Our swords shall play the Orators for us. Come let us meet them at the mountain foot, And with a sudden and an hot alarm Drive all their horses headlong down the hill. Come let us march. Stay Techelles, ask a parley first, Open the Males, yet guard the treasure sure, Lay out our golden wedges to the view, That their reflections may amaze the Persians. And look we friendly on them when they come: But if they offer word or violence, we'll fight five hundred men at arms to one, Before we part with our possession. And 'gainst the General we will lift our swords. And either launch his greedy thirsting throat, Or take him prisoner, and his chain shall serve For Manacles, till he be ransomed home. I hear them come, shall we encounter them?
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: T18 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And wheresoeuer we repose our selues, We will report but well of Tamburlaine. Disdaines Zenocrate to liue with me? Or you my Lordes to be my followers? Thinke you I way this treasure more than you? Not all the Gold in Indias welthy armes, Shall buy the meanest souldier in my traine. Zenocrate, louelier than the Loue of Ioue, Brighter than is the siluer Rhodolfe, Fairet than whitcst snow on Scythian hils, Thy person is more woorth to Tamburlaine, Than the possession of the Persean Crowne. Which gratious startes haue promist at my birth, A hundreth Tartars shall attend on thee, Mountrf on Steeds, swifter than Pegasus. Thy Garments shall be made of Medean silke, Enchast with precious iuelles of mine owne: More rich and valurous than Zenocrates. With milke-white Hartes vpon an Iuorie sled, Thou shalt be drawen amidst the frosen Pooles, And scale the ysie mountaines lofty tops: Which with thy beautie will be soone resolu'd. My martiall prises with fiue hundred men, Wun on the fiftie headed Vuolgas waues. Shall all we offer to Zenocrate, And then my selfe to faire Zenocrate. What now? In loue? Techelles, women must be flaterrd. But this is she with whom I am in loue. Newes, newes. How now, what's the matter? A thousand Persean horsmen are at hand, Sent from the King to ouercome vs all. How now my Lords of Egypt & Zenocrate? Now must your iewels be restor'd againe: And I that triumpht so be ouercome. How say you Lordings, Is not this your hope? We hope your selfe wil willingly restore thē. Such hope, such fortune haue the thousand horse. Soft ye my Lords and sweet Zenocrate. You must be forced from me ere you goe: A thousand horsmen: We fiue hundred foote? An ods too great, for vs to stand against: But are they rich: And is their armour good? Their plumed helmes are wrought with beaten golde. Their swords enameld, and about their neckes Hangs massie chaines of golde downe to the waste, In euery part exceeding braue and rich. Then shall we fight couragiously with them. Or looke you, I should play the Orator? No: cowards and fainthearted runawaies, Looke for orations when the foe is neere. Our swordes shall play the Orators for vs. Come let vs meet them at the mountain foot, And with a sodaine and an hot alarme Driue all their horses headlong down the hill. Come let vs martch. Stay Techelles, aske a parlee first, Open the Males, yet guard the treasure sure, Lay out our golden wedges to the view, That their reflexions may amaze the Perseans. And looke we friendly on them when they come: But if they offer word or violence, Weele fight fiue hundred men at armes to one, Before we part with our possession. And gainst the Generall we will lift our swords. And either lanch his greedy thirsting throat, Or take him prisoner, and his chaine shall serue For Manackles, till he be ransom'd home. I heare them come, shal we encounter them?