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 T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Brave knight since fear of death enforceth still In greater minds submission and relent: Know that this Medor whose unhappy name Is mixed with the fair Angelica's, Is even that Medor that enjoys her love. You cave bears witness of their kind content, Yond meadows talk the actions of their joy. Our Shepherds in their songs of solace sing, Angelica doth none but Medor love. Angelica doth none but Medor love? Shall Medor then possess Orlando's love? Dainty and gladsome beams of my delight, Delicious brows, why smiles your heaven for those That wandering make you prove Orlando's foes: Lend me your plaints, you sweet Arcadian nymphs, That wont to wail your new departed loves: Thou weeping flood, leave Orpheus wail for me, And Titan's Nieces gather all in one Those fluent springs of your lamenting tears, And let them flow alongst my faintful looks. Now is the fire late smothered in suspect, Kindled and burns within his angry breast. Now have I done the will of Sacrepant. Foemineum servile genus, crudele, superbum: Discourteous women, Nature's fairest ill, The woe of man, that first created curse; Base female sex, sprung from black Ate's loins, Proud, disdainful, cruel and unjust: Whose words are shaded with enchanting wills, Worse than Medusa, mateth all our minds, And in their hearts sits shameless treachery Turning a truthless vile circumference. O could my fury paint their furies forth, For hell's no hell compared to their hearts, Too simple devils to conceal their arts. Born to be plagues unto the thoughts of men, Brought for eternal pestilence to the world. O Femmenelle in genio de toute mall sede, Comet, vulge, mute, fachilment, Contrario, zero, propria de la fede; O infelice, miserate, crede, Importuna, superbia, dispetoze: Preva de more, de fede, de consilia, Timmorare, crudele, ineque, ingrate, Par pestelenze eternal monde nate. Villain, what art thou that followest me? Alas my Lord, I am your servant Orgalio No villain thou art Medor that ranst away with Angelica. No by my troth my Lord, I am Orgalio, ask all these people else. Art thou Orgalio? tell me where Medor is. My Lord look where he sits. What, sits he here, and braves me too? No truly Sir, I am not he. Yes villain. Help, help, my Lord of Aquitaine. O my Lord of Aquitaine the Count Orlando is run mad, and taking of a shepherd by the heels, rends him as one would tear a Lark. See where he comes with a leg on his neck. Villain, provide me straight a lion's skin, Thou seest I now am mighty Hercules: Look where's my massy club upon my neck. I must to hell, to seek for Medor and Angelica, Or else I die. You that are the rest, get you quickly away, Provide ye horses all of burnished gold, Saddles of cork because I'll have them light, For Charlemagne the Great is up in arms. And Arthur with a crew of Britons comes To seek for Medor and Angelica.
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)
Braue knight since feare of death inforceth still In greater mindes submission and relent: Know that this Medor whose vnhappie name Is mixed with the faire Angelicas, Is euen that Medor that inioyes her loue. You caue beares witnes of their kind content, Yon medowes talke the actions of their ioy. Our Shepheards in their songs of solace sing, Angelica doth none but Medor loue. Angelica doth none but Medor loue? Shall Medor then possesse Orlandos loue? Daintie and gladsome beames of my delight, Delicious browes, why smiles your heauen for those That wandring make you proue Orlandos foes: Lend me your plaints, you sweet Arcadian Nimphs, That wont to waile your new departed loues: Thou weeping floud, leaue Orpheus waile for me, And Titans Neeces gather all in one Those fluent springs of your lamenting teares, And let them flow alongst my faintfull lookes. Now is the fire late smothered in suspect, Kindled and burnes within his angrie brest. Now haue I done the will of Sacrepant. Foemineum seruile genus, crudele, superbum: Discurteous women, Natures fairest ill, The woe of man, that first created cursse; Base female sex, sprung from blacke Ates loynes, Proud, disdainfull, cruell and vniust: Whose words are shaded with inchanting wills, Worse than Medusa, mateth all our mindes, And in their harts sits shameles trecherie Turning a truthles vile circumference. O could my furie paint their furies forth, For hels no hell compared to their harts, Too simple diuels to conceale their arts. Borne to be plagues vnto the thoughts of men, Brought for eternall pestilence to the world. O Femmenelle in genio de toute malle sede, Comete, vulge, mute, fachilmente, Contrario, zero, propria de la fede; O infelice, miserate, crede, Importuna, superbia, dispetoze: Preua de more, de fede, de consilia, Timmorare, crudele, ineque, ingrate, Par pestelenze eternal monde nate. Villaine, what art thou that followest me? Alas my Lord, I am your seruant Orgalio thou art Medor that ranst away with Angelica. No by my troth my Lord, I am Orgalio, aske all these people else. Art thou Orgalio? tell me where Medor is. My Lord looke where he sits. What, sits he here, and braues me too? No truly Sir, I am not he. Yes villaine. Help, help, my Lord of Aquitaine. O my Lord of Aquitaine the Count Orlando is run mad, and taking of a shepheard by the heeles, rends him as one would teare a Larke. See where he comes with a leg on his necke. Villaine, prouide me straight a Lions skin, Thou seest I now am mightie Hercules: Looke wheres my massie club vpon my necke. I must to hell, to seeke for Medor and Angelica, Or else I dye. You that are the rest, get you quickly away, Prouide ye horses all of burnisht gold, Saddles of corke because Ile haue them light, For Charlemaine the Great is vp in armes. And Arthur with a crue of Britons comes To seeke for Medor and Angelica.