The Spanish Tragedy (Hieronimo is Mad Again) · chunk 38 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 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
What are you ready Balthazar? Bring a chair and a cushion for the King. Well done Balthazar, hang up the title. Our scene is Rhodes, what is your beard on? Half on, the other is in my hand. Dispatch for shame, are you so long? Bethink thyself Hieronimo, Recall thy wits, recount thy former wrongs, Thou hast received by murder of thy son. And lastly, not least, how Isabell, Once his mother and thy dearest wife: All woe begone for him hath slain herself. Behoves thee then Hieronimo to be revenged, The plot is laid of dire revenge, On then Hieronimo pursue revenge, For nothing wants but acting of revenge. Now Viceroy, shall we see the Tragedy, Of Soliman the Turkish Emperor: Performed of pleasure by your Son the Prince, My Nephew Don Lorenzo, and my Niece. Who, Bel-imperia? ay, and Hieronimo our Marshal. At whose request they deign to do't themselves. These be our pastimes in the Court of Spain. Here brother, you shall be the book keeper. This is the argument of that they show. bassa, that Rhodes is ours, yield heavens the honour, And holy Mahomet our sacred Prophet: And be thou graced with every excellence, That Soliman can give, or thou desire. But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is less, Than in reserving this fair Christian Nymph Perseda, blissful lamp of Excellence: Whose eyes compel like powerful Adamant, The warlike heart of Soliman to wait. See Viceroy, that is Balthazar your Son, That represents the Emperor Soliman: How well he acts his amorous passion. I Bel-imperia hath taught him that. That's because his mind tons all on Bel-imperia whatever joy earth yields betide your majesty. Earth yields no joy without Perseda's love. Let then Perseda on your grace attend. She shall not wait on me, but I on her, Drawn by the influence of her lights, I yield. But let my friend the Rhodian knight come forth, Erasto, dearer than my life to me, That he may see Perseda my beloved. Here comes Lorenzo, look up on the plot, And tell me brother what part plays he? Ah my Erasto, welcome to Perseda. Thrice happy is Erasto, that thou livest, Rhodes loss is nothing to Erasto's joy: Sith his Perseda lives, his life survives. Ah Bashaw, here is love between Erasto And fair Perseda sovereign of my soul. Remove Erasto mighty Soliman, And then Perseda will be quickly won. Erasto is my friend, and while he lives, Perseda never will remove her love. Let not Erasto live, to grieve great Soliman. Dear is Erasto in our Princely eye. But if he be your rival, let him die. Why let him die, so love commandeth me. Yet grieve I that Erasto should so die. Erasto, Soliman saluteth thee, And lets thee wit by me his highness will: Which is, thou shouldst be thus employed. Ay me Erasto, see Soliman Erastoe's slain. Yet liveth Soliman to comfort thee. Fair Queen of beauty, let not favour die, But with a gracious eye behold his grief, That with Perseda's beauty is increased. If by Perseda's grief be not released.
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)
What are you ready Balthazar? Bring a chaire and a cushion for the King. Well doon Balthazar, hang vp the title. Our scene is Rhodes, what is your beard on? Halfe on, the other is in my hand. Dispatch for shame, are you so long? Bethink thy selfe Hieronimo, Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs, Thou hast receiued by murder of thy sonne. And lastly, not least, how Isabell, Once his mother and thy deerest wife: All woe begone for him hath slaine her slfe. Behoues thee then Hieronimo to be reueng'd, The plot is laide of dire reuenge, On then Hieronimo pursue reuenge, For nothing wants but acting of reuenge. Now Viceroy, shall we see the Tragedie, Of Soliman the Turkish Emperour: Performde of pleasure by your Sonne the Prince, My Nephew Don Lorenzo, and my Neece. Who, Bel-imperi? I, and Hieronimo our Marshall. At whose request they deine to doo't themselues. These be our pastimes in the Court of Spaine. Heere brother, you shall be the booke-keeper. This is the argument of that they shew. BAshaw, that Rhodes is ours, yeeld heauens the honor, And holy Mahomet our sacred Prophet: And be thou grac't with euery excelence, That Soliman can giue, or thou desire. But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is lesse, Then in reseruing this faire Christian Nimph Perseda, blisfull lamp of Excellence: Whose eies compell like powerfull Adamant, The warlike heart of Soliman to wait. See Vice-Roy, that is Baltazar your Sonne, That represents the Emperour Solyman: How well he acts his amorous passion. I Bel-imperia hath taught him that. That's because his mind tunnes all on Bel-imperia What euer ioy earth yeelds betide your Meiestie. Earth yeelds no ioy without Persedaes loue. Let then Perseda on your grace attend. She shall not wait on me, but I on her, Drawne by the influence of her lights, I yeeld. But let my friend the Rhodian knight come foorth, Erasto, dearer then my life to me, That he may see Perseda my beloued. Heere comes Lorenzo, looke vp on the plot, And tel me brother what part plaies he? Ah my Erasto, welcome to Perseda. Thrice happie is Erasto, that thou liuest, Rhodes losse is nothing to Erastoes ioy: Sith his Perseda liues, his life suruiues. Ah Bashaw, heere is loue betweene Erast And faire Perseda soueraigne of my soule. Remooue Erasto mighty Solyman, And then Perseda will be quickly wonne. Erasto is my friend, and while he liues, Perseda neuer will remooue her loue. Let not Erasto liue, to greeue great Soliman. Deare is Erasto in our Princly eye. But if he be your riuall, let him die. VVhy let him die, so loue commaundeth me. Yet greeue I that Erasto should so die. Erasto, Solyman saluteth thee, And lets thee wit by me his highnes will: VVhich is, thou shouldst be thus imploid. Ay me Erasto, see Solyman Erastoes slaine. Yet liueth Solyman to comfort thee. Faire Queene of beautie, let not fauour die, But with a gratious eye beholde his griefe, That with Persedaes beautie is encreast. If by Persedaes griefe be not releast.