Greene, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) romance · Queen Elizabeth's Men (on tour); Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men (in London) · before the Court unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
Sirrah, thou that ruminatest to thyself a catalogue of privy conspiracies, what art thou? God save your Majesty? My Majesty, come hither my well nutrimented Knave, whom takest me to be? The mighty Mandricard of Mexico. I hold these salutations as ominous, for saluting me by that which I am not, he presageth what I shall be; for so did the Lacedaemonians by Agathocles, who of a base potter, wore the Kingly Diadem, but why deemest thou me to be the mighty Mandricard of Mexico? Marie sir. Stay there, wert thou never in France. Yes, if it please your Majesty. So it seems for there they salute their king by the name of Sir, monsieur, but forward. Such sparks of peerless Majesty, From those looks flames like lightning from the East As either Mandricard, or else some greater Prince. Methinks these salutations makes my thoughts To be heroical. But say to whom art thou sent? To the County Sacrepant. Why I am he. It pleaseth your Majesty to jest. whate'er I seem, I tell thee I am he. Then may it please your honour: the Emperor Marsillus together with his daughter Angelica and Orlando entreateth your Excellency to dine with them. Is Angelica there? There my good Lord. Sirrah. My Lord. Villain, Angelica sends for me. See that thou entertain that happy messenger. And bring him in with thee. Princes of France, the sparkling light of fame, Whose glories brighter than the burnished gates, From whence Latona's lordly son doth march, When mounted on his coach tinseled with flames, He triumphs in the beauty of the heavens. This is the place where Rodamant lies hid: Here lies he like the thief of Thessaly, Which scuds abroad, and searcheth for his prey; And being gotten, straight he gallops home, As one that dares not break a spear in field. But trust me Princes I have girt his fort, And I will sack it, or on this Castle wall, I'll write my resolution with my blood. Therefore drum sound a parley. Who is that troubleth our sleeps? Why sluggard, seest thou not Lycaon's son The hardy plough-swain unto mighty Ioue, Hath traced his silver furrows in the heavens, And turning home his overwatched team, Gives leave unto Apollo's Chariot. I tell thee sluggard, sleep is far unfit For such as still have hammering in their heads, But only hope of honour and revenge. These called me forth to rouse thy master up. Tell him from me, false coward as he is, That Orlando the County Palatine, Is come this morning with a band of French, To play him hunts-up with a point of war. I'll be his minstrel with my drum and fife: Bid him come forth, and dance it if he dare, Let Fortune throw her favours where she list.
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)
Sirra, thou that ruminatest to thy selfe a catalogue of priuie conspiracies, what art thou? God saue your Maiestie? My Maiestie, come hether my well nutrimented Knaue, whom takest me to bee? The mightie Mandricard of Mexico. I hold these salutations as omynous, for saluting mee by that which I am not, hee presageth what I shall be; for so did the Lacedemonians by Agathocles, who of a base potter, wore the Kingly Diadem, but why deemest thou me to be the mightie Mandricard of Mexico? Marie sir. Stay there, wert thou neuer in France. Yes, if it please your Maiestie. So it seemes for there they salute their king by the name of Sir, Mounsier, but forward. Such sparkes of peerlesse Maiestie, From those looks flames like lightning from the East As either Mandricard, or else some greater Prince. Methinks these salutations makes my thoghts To be heroicall. But say to whom art thou sent? To the Countie Sacrepant. Why I am he. It pleaseth your Maiestie to iest. What ere I seeme, I tell thee I am he. Then may it please your honor: the Emperor Marsillus together with his daughter Angelica and Orlando entreateth your Excellencie to dine with them. Is Angelica there? There my good Lord. Sirra. My Lord. Villaine, Angelica sends for me. See that thou entertaine that happie messenger. And bring him in with thee. Princes of France, the sparkling light of fame, Whose glories brighter than the burnisht gates, From whence Latonas lordly sonne doth march, When mounted on his coach tinseld with flames, He triumphs in the beautie of the heauens. This is the place where Rodamant lies hid: Here lyes he like the theefe of Thessaly, Which scuds abroad, and searcheth for his pray; And being gotten, straight he gallops home, As one that dares not breake a speare in field. But trust me Princes I haue girt his fort, And I will sacke it, or on this Castle wall, Ile write my resolution with my blood. Therefore drum sound a parle. Who is that troubleth our sleepes? Why sluggard, seest thou not Lycaons son The hardie plough-swaine vnto mightie Ioue, Hath tracde his siluer furrowes in the heauens, And turning home his ouer-watched teeme, Giues leaue vnto Apollos Chariot. I tell thee sluggard, sleep is farre vnfit For such as still haue hammering in their heads, But onely hope of honor and reuenge. These cald me forth to rouse thy master vp. Tell him from me, false coward as he is, That Orlando the Countie Palatine, Is come this morning with a band of French, To play him hunts-vp with a poynt of warre. Ile be his minstrell with my drum and fife: Bid him come forth, and dance it if he dare, Let Fortune throw her fauors where she list.