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 0.78 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Therefore cheer up your minds, prepare to fight, He that can take or slaughter tamburlaine, Shall rule the Province of Albania. Who brings that traitor's head theridamas, Shall have a government in Medea: Beside the spoil of him and all his train: But if Cosroe (as our Espials say, And as we know) remains with tamburlaine, His highness pleasure is that he should live, And be reclaimed with princely lenity. An hundred horsemen of my company scouting abroad upon these champion plains, Have viewed the army of the Scythians, Which make reports it far exceeds the Kings. Suppose they be in number infinite, Yet being void of Martial discipline, All running headlong after greedy spoils: And more regarding gain than victory: Like to the cruel brothers of the earth, Sprung of the teeth of dragon's venomous, Their careless swords shall launch their fellows threats And make us triumph in their overthrow. Was there such brethren, sweet Meander, say That sprung of teeth of dragon's venomous. So Poets say, my Lord. And 'tis a pretty toy to be a Poet. Well, well (Meander) thou art deeply read: And having thee, I have a jewel sure: Go en my Lord, and give your charge I say, Thy wit will make us Conquerors today. Then noble soldiers, to entrap these thieves, That live confounded in disordered troops, If wealth or riches may prevail with them, We have our Camels laden all with gold: Which you that be but common soldiers, Shall fling in every corner of the field: And while the base borne Tartars take it up, You fighting more for honour than for gold, Shall massacre those greedy minded slaves. And when their scattered army is subdued: And you march on their slaughtered carcases, Share equally the gold that bought their lives, And live like Gentlemen in Persia, Strike up the Drum and march courageously, Fortune herself doth sit upon our Crests. He tells you true, my masters, so he does. Drumꝭ, why sound ye not whē Meand. speakꝭ. NOw worthy Tamburlaine, have I reposed, In thy approved Fortunes all my hope, What thinkst thou man, shall come of our attempts. For even as from assured oracle, I take thy doom for satisfaction. And so mistake you not a whit my Lord. For Fates and Oracles, heaven have sworn, To royal the deeds of tamburlaine: And make them blessed that share in his attempts. And doubt you not, but if you favour me, And let my Fortunes and my valour sway, To some direction in your martial deeds, The world will strive with hosts of men at arms. To swarm unto the Ensign I support, The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said To drink the mighty Parthian Araris, Was but a handful to that we will have. Our quivering Lances shaking in the air, And bullets like Ioues dreadful Thunderbolts, enrolled in flames and fiery smouldering mists, Shall threat the Gods more than Cyclopian wars, And with our Sun-bright armour as we march, we'll chase the Stars from heaven, and dim their eyes That stand and muse at our admired arms.
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)
Therefore cheere vp your mindes, prepare to fight, He that can take or slaughter tamburlaine, Shall rule the Prouince of Albania. Who brings that Traitors head theridamas, Shal haue a gouernment in Medea: Beside the spoile of him and all his traine: But if Cosroe (as our Spials say, And as we know) remaines with tamburlaine, His Highnesse pleasure is that he should liue, And be reclaim'd with princely lenitie. An hundred horsmen of my company Srowting abroad vpon these champion plaines, Haue vtew'd the army of the Scythians, Which make reports it far exceeds the Kings. Suppose they be in number infinit, Yet being void of Martiall discipline, All running headlong after greedy spoiles: And more regarding gaine than victory: Like to the cruell brothers of the earth, Sprong of the teeth of Dragons venomous, Their carelesse swords shal lanch their fellowes threats And make vs triumph in their ouerthrow. Was there such brethren, sweet Meander, say That sprong of teeth of Dragons venomous. So Poets say, my Lord. And tis a prety toy to be a Poet. Wel, wel (Meander) thou art deeply read: And hauing thee, I haue a iewell sure: Go en my Lord, and giue your charge I say, Thy wit will make vs Conquerors to day. Then noble souldiors, to intrap these theeues, That liue confounded in disordered troopes, If wealth or riches may preuaile with them, We haue our Cammels laden all with gold: Which you that be but common souldiers, Shall fling in euery corner of the field: And while the base borne Tartars take it vp, You fighting more for honor than for gold, Shall massacre those greedy minded slaues. And when their scattered armie is subdu'd: And you march on their slaughtered carkasses, Share equally the gold that bought their liues, And liue like Gentlemen in Persea, Strike vp the Drum and martch corragiously, Fortune her selfe dooth sit vpon our Crests. He tels you true, my maisters, so he does. Drumꝭ, why sound ye not whē Meand. speakꝭ. NOw worthy Tamburlaine, haue I reposde, In thy approoued Fortunes all my hope, What thinkst thou man, shal come of our attemptes. For euen as from assured oracle, I take thy doome for satisfaction. And so mistake you not a whit my Lord. For Fates and Oracles, heauen haue sworne, To roialise the deedes of tamburlaine: And make them blest that share in his attemptes. And doubt you not, but if you fauour me, And let my Fortunes and my valour sway, To some direction in your martiall deeds, The world will striue with hostes of men at armes. To swarme vnto the Ensigne I support, The host of Xerxes, which by fame is said To drinke the mightie Parthian Araris, Was but a handful to that we will haue. Our quiuering Lances shaking in the aire, And bullets like Ioues dreadfull Thunderbolts, Enrolde in flames and fiery smoldering mistes, Shall threat the Gods more than Cyclopian warres, And with our Sun-bright armour as we march, Weel chase the Stars from heauen, and dim their eies That stand and muse at our admyred armes.