Peele, George / Shakespeare, William · published 1594 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Come on then, horse and Chariots let us have, And to our sport: Madam, now shall ye see, Our Roman hunting. I have Dogs my Lord, Will rouse the proudest Panther in the Chase, And climb the highest promontary top. And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and runs like swallows o'er the plain. Chiron we hunt not we, with horse nor hound But hope to pluck a dainty Do to ground. He that had wit, would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly, Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which cunning lie effected will beget, A very excellent piece of villainy: And so repose sweet gold for their unrest, That have their alms out of the Empress Chest My lovely Aron, wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleefull boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snakes lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequered shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aron let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise: And after conflict such as was supposed The wandering Prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtaind with a counsaile-keeping Cave, We may each wreathed in the others arms, (Our pastimes done,) possess a golden slumber, While hounds and horns, and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurses song Of Lullaby, to bring her Babe a sleep. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine: What signifies my deadly standing eye, My silence, and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of wollie hair that now uncurles, Even as an Adder when she doth vnrowle, To do some fatal execution. No Madam, these are no venerial signs, Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark Tamora the Empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus, His Philomela must lose her tongue to day, Thy sons make pillage of her chasttitie, And wash their hands in Bascianus blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up I pray thee, And give the king this fatal plotted scroll. Now question me no more we are espied, Here comes a parcel of our hopeful lbootie, Which dreads not yet their lives destruction. Ah my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life. No more great Empress, Bascianus comes, Be cross with him, and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels what so ere they be.
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)
Come on then, horse and Chariots let vs haue, And to our sport: Madam, now shall ye see, Our Romane hunting. I haue Dogges my Lord, VVill rouze the prowdest Panther in the Chase, And clime the highest promontarie topp. And I haue horse will follow where the game Mks way and runnes like swallowes ore the plaine. Chiron we hunt not we, with horse nor hound But hope to plucke a dintie Doe to ground. He that had wit, would thinke that I had none, To burie so much gold vnder a tree, And neuer after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abiectlie, Know that this gold must coine a stratageme, VVhich cunning lie effected will beget, A verie excellent peece of villanie: And so repose sweet gold for their vnrest, That haue their almes out of the Empresse Chest. My louelie Aron, wherefore lookst thou sad, VVhen euerie thing dorh make a gleefull bost? The birds chaunt melodie on euerie bush, The snakes lies rolled in the chearefull sunne, The greene leaues quiuer with the cooling winde, And make a checkerd shadow on the ground: Vnder their sweet shade, Aron let vs sit, And whilst the babling eccho mocks the hounds, Replying shrillie to the well tun'd hornes, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let vs sit downe and marke their yellowing noyse: And after conflict such as was supposde The wandring Prince and Dido once inioyed, VVhen with a happie storme they were surprisde, And curtaind with a counsaile-keeping Caue, VVe may each wreathed in the others armes, (Our pastimes done,) possesse a golden slumber, VVhiles hounds and hornes, and sweete mellodious birds Be vnto vs as is a Nurces song Of Lullabie, to bring her Babe a sleepe. Maddam, though Venus gouerne your desires, Saturne is dominator ouer mine: VVhat signifies my deadlie standing eie, My silence, ann my clowdie melancholie, My fleece of wollie haire that now vncurles, Euen as an Adder when shee doth vnrowle, To doo some fatall execution. No Maddam, these are no veneriall signes, Vengeance is in my hart, death in my hand, Blood and reuenge are hammering in my head. Harke Tamora the Empresse of my soule, Which neuer hopes more heauen than rests in thee, This is the daie of doome for Bassianus, His Philomel must loose her tongue to daie, Thy sonnes make pillage of her chasttitie, And wash their hands in Bascianus blood. Seest thou this letter? take it vp I pray thee, And giue the king this fatall plotted scrowle. Now question me no more we are espied, Here comes a parcell of our hopeful lbootie, VVhich dreads not yet their liues destruction. Ah my sweete Moore, sweeter to me than life. No more great Empresse, Bascianus comes, Be crosse with him, and Ile goe fetch thy sonnes To backe thy quarrels what so ere they bee.