Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Against the Sophy in three pitched fields, Under the conduct of great Soliman, Have I been chief commander of an host, And put the flint heart Persians to the sword. The desert plains of Afric have I stained, With blood of Moores, and there in three set battles fought, Marched conqueror through Asia, Along the coasts held by the Portuguese, Even to the verge of gold, aboarding Spain Hath Brusor led a valiant troup of Turks, And made some Christians kneel to Mahomet: Him we adore, and in his name I cry, Mahomet for me and Solyman. Now signior Basilisco you we know, And therefore give not you a stranger's welcome, You are a Rutter borne in Germanie, Upon the first encounter of your foe: What is your brave upon the enemy? I fight not with my tongue, this is my Oratrix. Laying his hand upon his sword. Why signior Basilisco is it a she sword? ay, and so are all blades with me: behold my instance Perdie, each female is the weaker vessel, And the vigour of this arm infringeth, The temper of any blade, quoth my assertion, And thereby gather, that this blade being approved weaker than this limb, may very well bear a feminine Epitheton. 'tis well proved, but what's the word that glories your Country? Sooth to say, the earth is my Country, As the air to the fowl, or the marine moisture, To the red gilled fish: I repute myself no coward: For humility shall mount. I keep no table To character my forepassed conflicts. As I remember, there happened a sore drought In some part of Belgia, that the juicy grass, Was seared with the Sun God's Element. I held it policy, to put the men children Of that climate to the sword, That the mother's tears might relieve the parched earth. The men died, the women wept, and the grass grew, Else had my Friesland horse perished, Whose loss would have more grieved me, Than the ruin of that whole Country. Upon a time in Ireland I fought, On horseback with an hundred Kerns, From Titan's Eastern uprise, to his Western downfall: Insomuch that my Steed began to faint: I conjecturing the cause to be want of water, dismounted: In which place there was no such Element, Enraged therefore with this scimitar, All on foot like an Herculean offspring, Endured some three or four hours combat, In which process, my body distilled such dewy showers of sweat, That from the warlike wrinkles of my front, My Palfrey cooled his thirst. My mercy in conquest, is equal with my manhood in fight, The tear of an infant, hath been the ransom of a conquered city, Whereby I purchased the surname of pity's adamant. Rough words blow my choler, As the wind doth Mulciber's work house, I have no word, because no country, Each place is my habitation, Therefore each country's word mine to pronounce. Princes, what would you? I have seen much, heard more, but done most, To be brief, he that will try me, let him waft me with his arm. I am his, for some five lances. Although it go against my stars to jest, Yet to gratulate this benign Prince, I will suppress my condition.
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Against the Sophy in three pitched fields, Vnder the conduct of great Soliman, Haue I bene chiefe commaunder of an hoast, And put the flint heart Perseans to the sword. The desert plaines of Affricke haue I staind, With blood of Moores, and there in three set battels fough, Marcht conquerour through Asia, Along the coasts held by the Portinguze, Euen to the verge of golde, aboording Spaine Hath Brusor led a valiant troope of Turkes, And made some Christians kneele to Mahomet: Him we adore, and in his name I crie, Mahomet for me and Solyman. Now Signeur Basilisco you we know, And therefore giue not you a strangers welcome, You are a Rutter borne in Germanie, Vpon the first encounter of your foe: What is your braue vpon the enemy? I fight not with my tongue, this is my Oratrix. Laying his hand vpon his sword. Why Signeur Basilisco is ita she sword? I, and so are all blades with me: beholde my instance Perdie, each female is the weaker vessell, And the vigour of this arme infringeth, The temper of any blade, quoth my assertion, And thereby gather, that this blade beeing arprooued weaker than this lim, may very wel bear a feminine Epitheton. Tis well proued, but whats the word that glories your Countrey? Sooth to say, the earth is my Countrey, As the aire to the fowle, or the marine moisture, To the red guild fish: I repute my selfe no coward: For humilitie shall mount. I keepe no table To character my fore-passed conflicts. As I remember, there happened a sore drought In some part of Belgia, that the iucie grasse, Was seared with the Sunne Gods Element. I held it pollicie, to put the men children Of that climate to the sword, That the mothers teares might releeue the pearched earth. The men died, the women wept, and the grasse grew, Els had my Frize-land horse perished, Whose losse would haue more grieued me, Than the ruine of that whole Countrey. Vpon a time in Ireland I fought, On horsebacke with an hundred Kernes, From Titans Easterne vprise, to his Westerne downe-fall: Insomuch that my Steed began to faint: I coniecturing the cause to be want of water, dismounted: In which place there was no such Element, Enraged therefore with this Semitor, All on foote like an Herculian ofspring, Endured some three or foure howers combat, In which processe, my body distilled such dewy showers of swet, That from the warlike wrinckles of my front, My Palfray coold his thirst. My mercy in conquest, is equall with my manhood in fight, The teare of an infant, hath bin the ransome of a conquered cittie, Whereby I purchased the surname of Pities adomant. Rough wordes blowe my choller, As the winde dooth Mulcibers worke house, I haue no word, because no countrey, Each place is my habitation, Therefore each countries word mine to pronounce. Princes, what would you? I haue seene much, heard more, but done most, To be briefe, hee that will try me, let him waft mee with his arme. I am his, for some fiue launces. Although it go against my starres to iest, Yet to gratulate this beninge Prince, I will suppresse my condition.