Anonymous · published 1592 · first performed or written 1592 [c.1589-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Why how now Erastus, always in thy dumps? Still in black habit fitting funeral? Cannot my love persuade thee from this mood, Nor all my fair entreats and blandishments, Wert thou my friend, thy mind would jump with mine, For what are friends, but one mind in two bodies. Perhaps thou doubts my friendship's constancy, Then dost thou wrong the measure of my love, Which hath no measure, and shall never end, Come Erastus sit thee down by me, And i'll impart to thee our Brusor's news, News to our honour, and to thy content: The Governor is slain that sought thy death. A worthy man though not Erastus' friend, The Prince of Cyprus to, is likewise slain. Fair blossom, likely to have proved good fruit. Rhodes is taken, and all the men are slain. Except some few that turn to Mahomet. I there it is, now all my friends are slain, And fair Perseda murdered or deflowered. Ah gracious Solyman now show thy love, In not denying thy poor suppliant: Suffer me not to stay here in thy presence, But by myself lament me once for all, Here if I stay, I must suppress my tears, And tears suppressed will but increase my sorrow. Go then, go spend thy mournings all at once, That in thy presence Soliman may joy. For hitherto have I reaped little pleasure, Well well Erastus, Rhodes may bless thy birth, For his sake only will I spare them more, From spoil, pillage, and oppression, Than Alexander spared warlike Thebes For Pindarus: or then Augustus Spared rich Alexandria for Aria's sake. My gracious Lord, rejoice in happiness: All Rhodes is yoked, and stoops to Solyman. First thanks to heaven, and next to Brusor's valour, Which i'll not guerdon with large promises, But straight reward thee with a bounteous largesse: But what two Christian Virgins have we here? Part of the spoil of Rhodes, which were preserved To be presented to your mightiness. This present pleaseth more than all the rest, And were their garments turned from black to white, I should have deemed them Juno's goodly Swans, Or Venus' milk white Doves, so mild they are, And so adorned with beauty's miracle. Here Brusor this kind Turtle shall be thine, Take her and use her at thy pleasure: But this kind Turtle is for Soliman, That her captivity may turn to bliss. Fair looks resembling Phoebus radiant beams, Smooth forehead like the table of high Ioue, Small penciled eye brows, like to glorious rainbows, Quick lamplike eyes, like heavens two brightest orbs, Lips of pure Coral breathing ambrosia, Cheeks, where the Rose and lily are in combat, Neck whiter than the Snowy Apenines, Breasts like two overflowing Fountains, Twixt which a vale leads to the Elysian shades, Where under covert lies the fount of pleasure, Which thoughts may guess, but tongue must not profane. A sweeter creature nature never made, Love never tainted Solyman till now, Now fair Virgin let me hear thee speak. What can my tongue utter, but grief and 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)
Why how now Erastus, alwaies in thy dumpes? Still in black habite fitting funerall? Cannot my loue perswade thee from this moode, Nor all my faire intreats and blandishments, Wert thou my friend, thy minde would iumpe with mine, For what are freends, but one minde in two bodies. Perhaps thou doubts my friendships constancie, Then doost thou wrong the measure of my loue, Which hath no measure, and shall neuer end, Come Erastus sit thee downe by me, And ile impart to thee our Brusors newes, Newes to our honour, and to thy content: The Gouernour is slaine that sought thy death. A worthy man though not Erastus friend, The Prince of Cipris to, is likewise slaine. Faire blossome, likely to haue proued good fruite. Rhodes is taken, and all the men are slaine. Except some few that turne to Mahomet. I there it is, now all my freends are slaine, And faire Perseda murtherd or deflowerd. Ah gratious Solyman now show thy loue, In not denying thy poore supplyant: Suffer me not to stay here in thy presence, But by my selfe lament me once for all, Here if I stay, I must suppresse my teares, And teares supprest will but increase my sorrow. Go then, go spend thy mournings all at once, That in thy presence Soliman may ioy. For hetherto haue I reaped little pleasure, Well well Erastus, Rhodes may blesse thy birth, For his sake onely will I spare them more, From spoile, pillage, and oppression, Then Alexander spard warlike Thebes For Pindarus: or then Augustus Sparde rich Alexandria for Arias sake. My gratious Lord, reioyce in happinesse: All Rhodes is yoakt, and stoopes to Solyman. First thanks to heauen, and next to Brusors valour, Which ile not guerdon with large promises, But straight reward thee with a bounteous largesse: But what two Christian Virgins haue we here? Part of the spoile of Rhodes, which were preserued To be presented to your mightinesse. This present pleaseth more then all the rest, And were their garments turnd from black to white, I should haue deemd them Junoes goodly Swannes, Or Venus milke white Doues, so milde they are, And so adornd with beauties miracle. Heere Brusor this kinde Turtle shall be thine, Take her and vse her at thy pleasure: But this kinde Turtle is for Soliman, That her captiuitie may turne to blisse. Faire lookes resembling Phoebus radiant beames, Smooth forhead like the table of high Ioue, Small pensild eye browes, like to glorious rainbowes, Quicke lampelike eyes, like heauens two brightest orbes, Lips of pure Corall breathing Ambrosie, Cheekes, where the Rose and Lillie are incombate, Necke whiter then the Snowie Apenines, Brests like two ouerflowing Fountaines, Twixt which a vale leads to the Elisian shades, Where vnder couert lies the fount of pleasure, Which thoughts may gesse, but tongue must not prophane. A sweeter creature nature neuer made, Loue neuer rainted Solyman till now, Now faire Virgin let me heare thee speake. What can my tongue vtter, but greefe and death.