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 T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
Ah my Lord Orlando. Orlando, what of Orlando? He my Lord runs madding through the woods, Like mad Orestes in his greatest rage. Step but aside into the bordering grove, There shall you see engraven on every tree, The lawless love of Medor and Angelica. O see my Lord, not any shrub but bears The cursed stamp that wrought the Counties rage If thou be'st mighty King Marsillus, For whom the County would adventure life: Revenge it on the false Angelica. Trust me Orgalio, Theseus in his rage, Did never more revenge his wronged Hippolytus, Than I will on the false Angelica. Go to my Court, and drag me Medor forth Tear from his breast the daring villains heart, Next take that base and damned adulteress, (I scorn to title her with daughter's name:) Put her in rags, and like some shepherdess, Exile her from my kingdom presently, Delay not good Orgalio, see it done. How now my friend, what fellow hast thou there? He says my Lord that he is servant unto Mandricard. To Mandricard? It fits me not to sway the Diadem, Or rule the wealthy Realms of Barbarie, To stain my thoughts with any cowardice. Thy master braved me to my teeth, He backed the Prince of Cuba for my foe, For which not he nor his shall scape my hands. No soldier, think me resolute as he. It grieves me much that Princes disagree, Sith black repentance followeth afterward. But leaving that, pardon me gracious Lord. For thou entreat'st and newly art arrived, And yet thy sword is not imbrued in blood, Upon conditions I will pardon thee; That thou shalt never tell thy master Mandricard, Nor any fellow soldier of the camp, That King Marsillus licensed thee depart: He shall not think I am so much his friend, That he or one of his shall scape my hand. I swear my Lord, & vow to keep my word. Then take my banderol of red, Mine, and none but mine shall honour thee, And safe conduct thee to port Carthagene. But say my Lord, if Mandricard were here What favour should he find or life or death? I tell thee friend, it fits not for a King To prize his wrath before his courtesy. Were Mandricard the King of Mexico In prison here, and craved but liberty; So little hate hangs in Marsillus' breast, As one entreaty should quite raze it out. But this concerns not thee, therefore farewell. Thanks & good fortune fall to such a king, thee As covets to be counted courteous. Blush Mandricard, the honour of thy foe disgraceth Thou wrongest him that wisheth thee but well Thou bringest store of men from Mexico To battle him that scorns to injure thee, Pawning his colours for thy warrantise. Back to thy ships, and hie thee to thy home, Budge not a foot to aid Prince Rodomant, But friendly gratulate these favours found, And mediate on nought but to be friends.
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)
Ah my Lord Orlando. Orlando, what of Orlando? He my Lord runs madding through the woods, Like mad Orestes in his greatest rage. Step but aside into the bordring groue, There shall you see ingrauen on euerie tree, The lawlesse loue of Medor and Angelica. O see my Lord, not any shrub but beares The cursed stampe that wrought the Counties rage If thou beest mightie King Marsillus, For whom the Countie would aduenture life: Reuenge it on the false Angelica. Trust me Orgalio, Theseus in his rage, Did neuer more reuenge his wrongd Hyppolitus, Than I will on the false Angelica. Goe to my Court, and drag me Medor forth Teare from his brest the daring villaines hart, Next take that base and damnd adulteresse, (I scorne to title her with daughters name:) Put her in rags, and like some shepheardesse, Exile her from my kingdome presently, Delay not good Orgalio, see it done. How now my frend, what fellow hast thou there? He sayes my Lord that hee is seruant vnto Mandricard. To Mandricard? It fits me not to sway the Diademe, Or rule the wealthy Realmes of Barbarie, To staine my thoughts with any cowardise. Thy master bravde me to my teeth, He backt the Prince of Cuba for my foe, For which not he nor his shall scape my hands. No souldier, thinke me resolute as hee. It greeues me much that Princes disagree, Sith blacke repentance followeth afterward. But leauing that, pardon me gracious Lord. For thou intreatst and newly art arrivd, And yet thy sword is not imbrewd in blood, Vpon conditions I will pardon thee; That thou shalt neuer tell thy master Mandricard, Nor anie fellow soldier of the campe, That King Marsillus licenst thee depart: He shall not thinke I am so much his frend, That he or one of his shall scape my hand. I swear my Lord, & vow to keep my word. Then take my banderoll of red, Mine, and none but mine shall honor thee, And safe conduct thee to port Catthagene. But say my Lord, if Mandricard were here What fauor should he finde or life or death? I tell thee frend, it fits not for a King To prize his wrath before his curtesie. Were Mandricard the King of Mexico In prison here, and cravde but libertie; So little hate hangs in Marsillus breast, As one intreatie should quite race it out. But this concernes not thee, therefore farewell. Thankes & good fortune fall to such a king, thee As couets to be counted curteous. Blush Mandricard, the honor of thy foe disgraceth Thou wrongest him that wisheth thee but well Thou bringest store of men from Mexico To battaile him that scornes to iniure thee, Pawning his colours for thy warrantize. Backe to thy ships, and hie thee to thy home, Bouge not a foote to aid Prince Rodomant, But frendly gratulate these fauors found, And mediate on nought but to be frends.