The Spanish Tragedy (Hieronimo is Mad Again) · chunk 7 of 41
Kyd, Thomas · published 1592 · first performed or written 1587 [1585-1589; revised c.1597(?) and 1601-2] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
Cut short his life to end his praise and worth. She, she herself disguised in armours mask, (As Pallas was before proud Pergamus:) Brought in a fresh supply of Halberdiers, Which paunched his horse and dinged him to the ground, Then young Don Balthazar with ruthless rage, Taking advantage of his foe's distress, Did finish what his Halberdiers begun, And left not till Andrea's life was done. Then though too late incensed with just remorse, I with my band set forth against the Prince, And brought him prisoner from his Halberdiers. Would thou hadst slain him that so slew my love. But then was Don Andrea's carcase lost? No, that was it for which I chiefly strove, Nor stepped I back till I recovered him: I took him up and wound him in mine arms. And wielding him unto my private tent, There laid him down and dewed him with my tears, And sighed and sorrowed as became a friend. But neither friendly sorrow, sighs nor tears, Could win pale death from his usurped right. Yet this I did, and less I could not do: I saw him honoured with due funeral, This scarf I plucked from off his lifeless arm, And wear it in remembrance of my friend. I know the scarf, would he had kept it still, For had he lived he would have kept it still, And worn it for his Bel-imperia's sake: For 'twas my favour at his last depart. But now wear thou it both for him and me, For after him thou hast deserved it best, But for thy kindness in his life and death, Be sure while Bel-imperia's life endures, She will be Don Horatio's thankful friend. And (madam) Don Horatio will not slack, Humbly to serve fair Bel-imperia. But now if your good liking stand thereto, e craue your pardon to goe seeke the Prince, For so the Duke your father gave me charge. ay, go Horatio, leave me here alone, For solitude best fits my cheerless mood: Yet what avails to wail Andrea's death, From whence Horatio proves my second love? Had he not loved Andria as he did, He could not sit in Bel-imperia's thoughts. But how can love find harbour in my breast, Till I revenge the death of my beloved. Yes, second love shall further my revenge. I'll love Horatio my Andrea's friend, The more to spite the Prince that wrought his end: And where Don Balthazar that slew my love, Himself now pleads for favour at my hands, He shall in rigour of my just disdain, Reap long repentance for his murderous deed: For what was't else but murderous cowardice, So many to oppress one valiant knight, Without respect of honour in the fight? And here he comes that murdered my delight. Sister, what means this melancholy walk? That for a while I wish no company. But here the Prince is come to visit you, That argues that he lives in liberty. No madam, but in pleasing servitude. Your prison then belike is your conceit.
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)
Cut short his life to end his praise and woorth. She, she her selfe disguisde in armours maske, (As Pallas was before proud Pergamus:) Brought in a fresh supply of Halberdiers, Which pauncht his horse and dingd him to the ground, Then yong Don Balthazar with ruthles rage, Taking aduantage of his foes distresse, Did finish what his Halberdiers begun, And left not till Andreas life was done. Then though too late incenst with iust remorce, I with my band set footh against the Prince, And brought him prisoner from his Halberdiers. Would thou hadst slaine him that so slew my loue. But then was Don Andreas carkasse lost? No, that was it for which I cheefely strou, Nor stept I back till I recouerd him: I tooke him vp and wound him in mine armes. And welding him vnto my priuate tent, There laid him downe and dewd him with my teares, And sighed and sorrowed as became a freend. But neither freendly sorrow, sighes nor teares, Could win pale death from his vsurped right. Yet this I did▪ and lesse I could not doe: I saw him honoured with due funerall, This scarfe I pluckt from off his liueles arme, And weare it in remembrance of my freend. I know the scarfe, would he had kept it still, For had he liued he would haue kept it still, And worne it for his Bel-imperias sake: For twas my fauour at his last depart. But now weare thou it both for him and me, For after him thou hast deserued it best, But for thy kindnes in his life and death, Be sure while Bel-imperias life endures, She will be Don Horatios thankfull freend. And (Madame) Don Horatio will not slacke, Humbly to serue faire Bel-imperia. But now if your good liking stand thereto, e craue your pardon to goe seeke the Prince, For so the Duke your father gaue me charge. I, goe Horatio, leaue me heere alone, For sollitude best fits my cheereles mood: Yet what auailes to waile Andreas death, From whence Horatio proues my second loue▪ Had he not loued Andria as he did, He could not sit in Bel-imperias thoughts. But how can loue finde harbour in my brest, Till I reuenge the death of my beloued. Yes, second loue shall further my reuenge. Ile loue Horatio my Andreas freend, The more to spight the Prince that wrought his end: And where Don Balthazar that slew my loue, Himselfe now pleades for fauour at my hands, He shall in rigour of my iust disdaine, Reape long repentance for his murderous deed: For what wast els but murderous cowardise, So many to oppresse one valiant knight, Without respect of honour in the fight? And heere he comes that murdred my delight. Sister, what meanes this melanchollie walke? That for a while I wish no company. But heere the Prince is come to visite you, That argues that he liues in libertie. No Madame, but in pleasing seruitude. Your prison then belike is your conceit.