Marlowe, Christopher · published 1590 · first performed or written 1588 [1587-1588] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured, Not doing Mahomet an injury, Whose power had share in this our victory: And since this miscreant hath disgraced his faith, And died a traitor both to heaven and earth, We will both watch and ward shall keep his trunk Amidst these plains, for Fowls to pray upon. Go Uribassa, give it straight in charge. I will my Lord. And now Gazellus, let us haste and meet Our Army and our brother of Ierusalem, Of Soria, Trebizon and Amasia, And happily with full Natolian bowls Of Greekish wine now let us celebrate Our happy conquest, and his angry fate. Black is the beauty of the brightest day, The golden ball of heavens eternal fire, That danced with glory on the silver waves: Now wants the fuel that inflame his beams And all with faintness and for foul disgrace, He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night: Zenocrate that gave him light and life, Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers, And tempered every soul with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry Skies, Whose jealousy admits no second Mate, Draws in the comfort of her latest breath All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of heaven, As sentinels to warn th'immortal souls, To entertain divine Zenocrate. Apollo Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently looked upon this loathsome earth, Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heavens To entertain divine Zenocrate. The crystal springs whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver runs through Paradise To entertain divine zenocrate. The Cherubins and holy Seraphins That sing and play before the king of kings, We all their voices and their instruments To entertain divine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and curious harmony, The God that tunes this music to our souls: Holds out his hand in highest majesty To entertain divine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts, Up to the palace of th'imperial heaven: That this my life may be as short to me As are the days of sweet Zenocrate: Physicians, will no physic do her good? My Lord, your Majesty shall soon perceive: And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. Tell me, how fares my fair Zenocrate: I fare my Lord, as other Empresses, That when this frail and transitory flesh, Hath sucked the measure of that vital air That feeds the body with his dated health, Wanes with enforced and necessary change. May never such a change transform my love In whose sweet being I repose my life, Whose heavenly presence beautified with health, Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars, Whose absence make the sun and Moon as dark As when opposed in one diameter: Their Spheres are mounted on the serpent's head, Or else descended to his winding train: Live still my Love and so conserve my life, Or dying, be the anchor of my death.
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)
Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured, Not dooing Mahomet an iniurie, Whose power had share in this our victory: And since this miscreant hath disgrac'd his faith, And died a traitor both to heauen and earth, We wil both watch and ward shall keepe his trunke Amidst these plaines, for Foules to pray vpon. Go Vribassa, giue it straight in charge. I will my Lord. And now Gazellus, let vs haste and meete Our Army and our brother of Ierusalem, Of So, Trebizon and Amasia, And happily with full Natolian bowles Of Greekish wine now let vs celebrate Our happy conquest, and his angry fate. BLacke is the beauty of the brightest day, The golden balle of heauens eternal fire, That danc'd with glorie on the siluer waues: Now wants the fewell that enflamde his beames And all with faintnesse and for foule disgrace, He bindes his temples with a frowning cloude, Ready to darken earth with endlesse night: Zenocrate that gaue him light and life, Whose eies shot fire from their Iuory bowers, And tempered euery soule with liuely heat, Now by the malice of the angry Skies, Whose iealousie admits no second Mate, Drawes in the comfort of her latest breath All dassed with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walles of heauen, As Centinels to warne th'immortall soules, To entertaine deuine Zenocrate. Apollo Cynthia, and the ceaslesse lamps That gently look'd vpon this loathsome earth, Shine downwards now no more, but deck the heauens To entertaine diuine Zenocrate. The christall springs whose taste illuminates Refined eies with an eternall sight, Like tried siluer runs through Paradice To entertaine diuine zenocrate. The Cherubins and holy Seraphins That sing and play before the king of kings, We all their voices and their instruments To entertaine diuine Zenocrate. And in this sweet and currious harmony, The God that tunes this musicke to our soules: Holds out his hand in highest maiesty To entertaine diuine Zenocrate. Then let some holy trance conuay my thoughts, Vp to the pallace of th'imperiall heauen: That this my life may be as short to me As are the daies of sweet Zenocrate: Phisitions, wil no phisicke do her good? My Lord, your Maiesty shall soone perceiue▪ And if she passe this fit, the worst is past. Tell me, how fares my faire Zenocrate: I fare my Lord, as other Emperesses, That when this fraile and transitory flesh, Hath suckt the measure of that vitall aire That feeds the body with his dated health, Wanes with enforst and necessary change. May neuer such a change transfourme my loue In whose sweet being I repose my life, Whose heauenly presence beautified with health, Giues light to Phoebus and the fixed stars, Whose absence make the sun and Moone as darke As when opposde in one Diamiter: Their Spheares are mounted on the serpents head, Or els discended to his winding traine: Liue still my Loue and so conserue my life, Or dieng, be the anchor of my death.