Anonymous · published 1592 · first performed or written 1592 [c.1589-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Now Rhodes is yoked, and stoops to Soliman, There lies the Governor, and there his son: Now let their souls tell sorry tidings to their ancestors, What millions of men oppressed with ruin and scathe, The Turkish armies did in Christendom, What say these prisoners, will they turn Turk, or no? First Iulio will die ten thousand deaths. And Guelpio, rather than deny his Christ. Then stab the slaves, and send their souls to hell. I turn, I turn, oh save my life I turn. For bear to hurt him: when we land in Turkey He shall be circumcised and have his rites. Think you I turn Turk, For fear of servile death that's but a sport, i'faith sir no: 'tis for Perseda whom I love so well, That I would follow her, though she went to hell. Now for these Ladies: their lives privilege Hangs on their beauty, they shall be preserved, To be presented to great Soliman, The greatest honour Fortune could afford. The most dishonour that could e'ere befall. Now Fortune, what hast thou done in this later passage I placed Erastus in the favour, Of Solyman the Turkish Emperor. Nay that was Love, for I couched myself In poor Erastus eyes, and with a look o'erspread with tears, bewitched Solyman, Beside I sat on valiant Brusor's tongue, To guide the praises of the herodian knight. Then in the ladies' passions, I showed my power, And lastly Love made Basilisco's tongue, To countercheck his heart by turning Turk, And save his life, in spite of death's despite. How chance it then, that Love and Fortune's power Could neither save Philippo nor his son, Nor Guelpio, nor signor Iulio, Nor rescue Rhodes from out the hands of Death. Why Brusor's victory was Fortune's gift. But had I slept, his conquest had been small. Wherefore stay we, there's more behind, which proves That though Love wink, Loves not stark blind. Faith master, methinks you are unwise. That you wear not the high sugarloaf hat, And the gilded gown the Emperor gave you, Peace fool, a sable weed fits discontent, Away, be gone. I'll go provide your supper, A shoulder of mutton, and never a Salad. I must confess that Solyman is kind, Past all compare, and more than my desert, But what helps gay garments, when the minds oppressed, What pleaseth the eye, when the sense is altered, My heart is over whelmed with thousand woes, And melancholy leads my soul in triumph, No marvel then if I have little mind, Of rich embroidery or costly ornaments, Of honours titles, or of wealth, or gain, Of music, viands, or of dainty dames, No, no, my hope full long ago was lost, And Rhodes itself is lost, or else destroyed, If not destroyed, yet bound and captivate, If captivate, then forced from holy faith: If forced from faith, for ever miserable, For what is misery, but want of God, And God is lost, if faith be overthrown.
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)
Now Rhodes is yoakt, and stoopes to Soliman, There lies the Gouernour, and there his sonne: Now let their soules tell sorrie tidings to their ancestors, What millions of men opprest with ruine and scath, The Turkish armies did in Christendome, What say these prisoners, will they turne Turke, or no? First Iulio will die ten thousand deaths. And Guelpio, rather then denie his Christ. Then stab the slaues, and send their soules to hell. I turne, I turne, oh saue my life I turne. For beare to hurt him: when we land in Turkie He shall be circumcised and haue his rites. Thinke you I turne Turque, For feare of seruile death thats but a sport, I faith sirno: Tis for Perseda whom I loue so well, That I would follow her, though she went to hell. Now for these Ladies: their liues priuiledge Hangs on their beautie, they shall be preserued, To be presented to great Soliman, The greatest honour Fortune could affoord. The most dishonour that could ere befall. Now Fortune, what hast thou done in this later passage I plast Erastus in the fauour, Of Solyman the Turkish Emperour. Nay that was Loue, for I coucht my selfe In poore Erastus eyes, and with a looke Orespred with teares, bewitched Solyman, Beside I sat on valiant Brusors tongue, To guide the praises of the herodian knight. Then in the Ladies passions, I showed my power, And lastly Loue made Basiliscos tougue, To counter check his hart by turning Turke, And saue his life, in spight of deaths despight. How chance it then, that Loue and Fortunes power Could neither saue Philippo nor his sonne, Nor Guelpio, nor signior Iulio, Nor rescue Rhodes from out the hands of Death. Why Brusors victorie was Fortunes gift. But had I slept, his conquest had beene small. Wherfore stay we, thers more behind, which proues That though Loue winke, Loues not starke blinde. Faith maister, me thinks you are vnwise. That you weare not the high Sugerloafe hat, And the gilded gowne the Emperour gaue you, Peace foole, a sable weede fits discontent, Away, be gon. Ile go prouide your supper, A shoulder of mutton, and neuer a Sallet. I must confesse that Solyman is kinde, Past all compare, and more then my desart, But what helps gay garments, when the minds oprest, What pleaseth the eye, when the sence is altered, My heart is ouer whelmd with thousand woes, And melancholie leades my soule in triumphe, No meruaile then if I haue little minde, Of rich imbroderie or costly ornaments, Of honors titles, or of wealth, or gaine, Of musick, viands, or of dainty dames, No, no, my hope full long agoe was lost, And Rhodes it selfe is lost, or els destroyde, If not destroide, yet bound and captiuate, If captiuate, then forst from holy faith: If forst from faith, for euer miserable, For what is misery, but want of God, And God is lost, if faith be ouerthrowne.