Lyly, John · published 1592 · first performed or written 1589 (Annals) comedy · Children of Paul's (first) · before the Court unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 549 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
If Mars should answer thee thus, go bathe thy sword in water, and wash thy hands in milk, and thy sword shall cleave adamant, and thy heart answer the sharpness of thy sword, wouldst not thou try the conclusion? What else? Then let Midas believe till he have tried, and think that the God's rule as well by giving remedies, as granting wishes. But Eristus is mum. Caelia hath sealed his mouth. Caelia hath sealed her face in my heart, which I am no more ashamed to confess, than thou that Mars hath made a scar in thy face Martius. But let us in to the king. Sir boys you wait well. We durst not go to Bacchus, for if I see a grape, my head aches. And if I find a cudgel I'll make your shoulders ache. And you Licio, wait on yourself. I cannot choose sir, I am always so neer myself. I'll be as near you as your skin presently. IN Pactolus go bathe thy wish and thee, Thy wish the waves shall have, and thou be free. Miserable Midas, as unadvised in thy wish, as in thy success unfortunate. O unquenchable thirst of gold, which turneth men's heads to lead, and makest them blockish; their hearts to iron, and makest them covetous; their eyes to delight in the view, and makest them blind in the use. I that did possess mines of gold, could not be contented till my mind were also a mine. Could not the treasure of Phrygia, nor the tributes of Greece, nor mountains in the East, whose guts are gold, satisfy thy mind with gold? Ambition eateth gold, & drinketh blood; climbeth so high by other men's heads, that she breaketh her own neck. What should I do with a world of ground, whose body must be content with seven foot of earth? or why did I covet to get so many crowns, having myself but one head? Those that took small vessels at the sea, I accounted Pirates; and myself that suppressed whole Fleets, a Conqueror: as though robberies of Midas might mask under the names of triumphs, and the traffic of other Nations be called treachery. Thou hast pampered up thyself with slaughter, as Diomedes did his horse with blood; so unsatiable thy thirst, so heavy thy sword. Two books have I always carried in my bosom, calling them the dagger, and the sword; in which the names of all Princes, Noblemen, and Gentlemen were dedicated to slaughter, or if not (which worse is) to slavery. O my Lords, when I call to mind my cruelties in Lycaonia, my usurping in Getulia, my oppression in Sola: then do I find neither mercies in my conquests, nor colour for my wars, nor measure in my taxes. I have written my laws in blood, and made my Gods of gold; I have caused the mother's wombs to be their children's tombs, cradles to swim in blood like boats, and the temples of the Gods a stews for strumpets. Have not I made the sea to groan under the number of my ships: and have they not perished, that there was not two left to make a number? Have I not thrust my subjects into a Camp, like oxen into a Cart;
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)
If Mars should answere thee thus, go bath thy sword in water, and wash thy hands in milke, and thy sword shal cleaue adamant, and thy heart answere the sharpnes of thy sword, wouldst not thou trie the conclusion? What els? Then let Mydas beleeue til he haue tried, and thinke that the Gods rule as wel by geuing remedies, as graunting wishes. But Eristus is mum. Caelia hath sealed his mouth. Caelia hath sealed her face in my heart, which I am no more ashamed to confesse, than thou that Mars hath made a scarre in thy face Martius. But let vs in to the king. Sir boies you wait wel. We durst not go to Bacchus, for if I see a grape, my head akes. And if I finde a cudgell Ile make your shoulders ake. And you Licio, wait on your selfe. I cannot chuse sir, I am alwaies so neer my selfe. Ile be as neere you as yourskin presently. IN Pactolus go bathe thy wish and thee, Thy wish the waues shal haue, and thou be free. Miserable Mydas, as vnaduised in thy wish, as in thy successe vnfortunat. O vnquenchable thirst of gold, which turneth mens heads to lead, and makest them blockish; their hearts to iron, and makest them couetous; their eyes to delight in the view, and makest them blinde in the vse. I that did possesse mynes of golde, could not bee contented till my minde were also a myne. Could not the treasure of Phrygia, nor the tributes of Greece, nor mountaines in the East, whose guts are gold, satisfie thy minde with gold? Ambition eateth gold, & drinketh blood; climeth so high by other mens heads, that she breaketh her owne necke. What should I doo with a world of ground, whose bodie must be content with seauen foote of earth? or why did I couet to get so manie crownes, hauing my self but one head? Those that tooke small vessells at the sea, I accompted Pyrates; and my selfe that suppressed whole Fleetes, a Conquerour: as though robberies of Mydas might masque vnder the names of triumphs, and the traffique of other Nations bee called treacherie. Thou hast pampred vp thy selfe with slaughter, as Diomedes did his horse with blood; so vnsatiable thy thirst, so heauie thy sword. Two bookes haue I alwaies carried in my bosome, calling them the dagger, and the sword; in which the names of all Princes, Noblemen, and Gentlemen were dedicated to slaughter, or if not (which worse is) to slauerie. O my Lords, when I call to minde my cruelties in Lycaonia, my vsurping in Getulia, my oppression in Sola: then do I finde neither mercies in my conquests, nor colour for my warres, nor measure in my taxes. I haue written my lawes in blood, and made my Gods of golde; I haue caused the mothers wombes to bee their childrens tombes, cradles to swimme in blood like boates, and the temples of the Gods a stewes for strumpets. Haue not I made the sea to groane vnder the number of my ships: and haue they not perished, that there was not two left to make a number? Haue I not thrust my subiects into a Camp, like oxen into a Cart;