Peele, George / Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 485 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
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 likes 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 cunningly 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 Aaron, Wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a Gleefull boast? The Birds chant melody on every bush, The Snake 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, Aaron let us sit, And whilst the babbling Echo mocks the Hounds, Replying shrilly to the well tun'd-Hornes, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down, and mark their yelping noise: And after conflict, such as was supposed. The wandering Prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And Curtained with a Counsaile-keeping Cave, We may each wreathed in the others arms, (Our pastimes done) possess a Golden slumber, Whiles Hounds and Horns, and sweet Melodious Birds Be unto us, as is a Nurse's Song Of Lullaby, to bring her Babe asleep. Madame, 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 Woolly hair, that now uncurles, Even as an Adder when she doth vnrowle To do some fatal execution? No Madam, these are no Venereal 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 Chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus 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 Booty, Which dreads not yet their life's destruction. Ah my sweet Moor: Sweeter to me then life. No more great Empress, Bassianus comes, Be cross with him, and I'll go fetch thy Sons To back thy quarrel 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 Romaine hunting. I haue dogges my Lord, Will rouze the proudeſt Panther in the Chaſe, And clime the higheſt Pomontary top. And I haue horſe will follow where the game Makes way, and runnes likes Swallowes ore the plaine Chiron we hunt not we, with Horſe nor Hound But hope to plucke a dainty Doe to ground. He that had wit, would thinke that I had none, To bury ſo much Gold vnder a Tree, And neuer after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me ſo abiectly, Know that this Gold muſt coine a ſtratageme, Which cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent peece of villany: And ſo repoſe ſweet Gold for their vnreſt, That haue their Almes out of the Empreſſe Cheſt. My louely Aaron, Wherefore look'ſt thou ſad, When euery thing doth make a Gleefull boaſt? The Birds chaunt melody on euery buſh, The Snake lies rolled in the chearefull Sunne, The greene leaues quiuer▪ with the cooling winde, And make a cheker'd ſhadow on the ground: Vnder their ſweete ſhade, Aaron let vs ſit, And whil'ſt the babling Eccho mock's the Hounds, Replying ſhrilly to the well tun'd-Hornes, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let vs ſit downe, and marke their yelping noyſe: And after conflict, ſuch as was ſuppos'd. The wandring Prince and Dido once enioy'd, When with a happy ſtorme they were ſurpris'd, And Curtain'd with a Counſaile-keeping Caue, We may each wreathed in the others armes, (Our paſtimes done) poſſeſſe a Golden ſlumber, Whiles Hounds and Hornes, and ſweet Melodious Birds Be vnto vs, as is a Nurſes Song Of Lullabie, to bring her Babe aſleepe. Madame, Though Venus gouerne your deſires, Saturne is Dominator ouer mine: What ſignifies my deadly ſtanding eye, My ſilence, and my Cloudy Melancholie, My fleece of Woolly haire, that now vncurles, Euen as an Adder when ſhe doth vnrowle To do ſome fatall execution? No Madam, theſe are no Veneriall ſignes, Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood, and reuenge, are Hammering in my head. Harke Tamora, the Empreſſe of my Soule, Which neuer hopes more heauen, then reſts in thee, This is the day of Doome for Baſsianus; His Philomel muſt looſe her tongue to day, Thy Sonnes make Pillage of her Chaſtity, And waſh their hands in Baſſianus 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, Heere comes a parcell of our hopefull Booty, Which dreads not yet their liues deſtruction. Ah my ſweet Moore: Sweeter to me then life. No more great Empreſſe, Baſſianus comes, Be croſſe with him, and Ile goe fetch thy Sonnes To backe thy quarrell what ſo ere they be.