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 T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
But dost thou think the temper to be good And will it hold, when thus and thus we Medor do assail? Lord sir, you'll break my living. You told me your master was not mad. Tell me, why hast thou marred my sword? The pommel's well, the blade is curtailed short. Villain why hast thou made it so, O Lord Sir, will you answer this? Orgalio who is this? Faith my Lord some old witch I think. O that my Lord would but conceit my tale. Then would I speak and hope to find redress. Fair Polixena, the pride of Ilion, Fear not Achilles over-madding boy, Pyrrus shall not, etc. Sounes Orgalio, why sufferest thou this old trot to come so nigh me? come, come, stand by, your breath stinks. What, be all the Trojans fled, Then give me some drink. Here Palatine drink, and ever be thou better for this draft. What here the paltry bottle that Darius quaffed, Else would I set my mouth to tiger's streams, And drink up overflowing Euphrates, My eyes are heavy, and I needs must sleep. Melissa striketh with her wand, and the satires enter with music and play round about him, which done, they stay, he awaketh and speaks. What shows are these that fill mine eyes With view of such regard as heaven admires, To see my slumbering dreams, Skies are fulfilled with lamps of lasting joy, That boast the pride of haught Latona's son, He lighteneth all the candles of the night. Nymosene hath kissed the kingly Ioue, And entertained a feast within my brains, Making her daughter solace on my brow, methinks I feel how Cinthia tunes conceits Of sad repent, and melloweth those desires Which frenzies scares had ripened in my head. Ate I'll kiss thy restless cheek a while, And suffer vile repent to bide control, What sights, what shows, what fearful shapes are these? More dreadful than appeared to Hecuba, When fall of Troy was figured in her sleep. Iuno methought sent down from heaven by love. Came swiftly sweeping through the gloomy air And calling Fame the satires and the nymphs, She gave them viols full of heavenly dew, With that mounted on her particoloured coach Being drawn with peacocks proudly through the air, She flew with Iris to the sphere of love. What fearful thoughts arise upon this show? What desert grove is this? How thus disguised? Where is Orgalio? Here my Lord. Sirrah, how came I thus disguised, Like made Orestes quaintly thus disguised? Like mad Orestes, nay my Lord, you may boldly justify the comparison, for Orestes was never so mad in his life as you were. What was I mad? What fury hath enchanted me? A fury sure worse than Megaera was, That reft her son from trusty Pylades. Why, what art thou, some sibyl or some goddess, freely speak?
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)
But dost thou think the temper to be good And will it hold, when thus and thus we Medor do assaile? Lord sir, youle breake my liuing. You told me your master was not mad. Tel me, why hast thou mard my sword? The pummells well, the blade is curtald short. Villaine why hast thou made it so, O Lord Sir, will you answere this? Orgalio who is this? Faith my Lord some old witch I thinke. O that my Lord woulde but conceit my tale. Then would I speake and hope to finde redresse. Faire Polixena, the pride of Illion, Feare not Achilles ouer-madding boy, Pyrrus shall not, &c. Sounes Orgalio, why sufferest thou this old trot to come so nigh me? come, come, stand by, your breath stinkes. What, be all the Trogians fled, Then giue me some drinke. Here Palatine drinke, and euer be thou better for this draught. What here the paltrie bottle that Darius quaft, Else would I set my mouth to Tygres streames, And drinke vp ouerflowing Euphrates, My eyes are heauie, and I needs must sleep. Melissa striketh with her wande, and the Satyres enter with musicke and plaie round about him, which done, they staie, he awaketh and speakes. What shewes are these that fill mine eies With view of such regard as heauen admires, To see my slumbring dreames, Skies are fulfild with lampes of lasting ioy, That boast the pride of haught Latonas sonne, He lightneth all the candles of the night. Nymosene hath kist the kingly Ioue, And entertaind a feast within my brains, Making her daughter solace on my brow, Mee thinks I feele how Cinthya tunes conceites Of sad repent, and meloweth those desires Which phrensies scares had ripened in my head. Ate Ile kisse thy restlesse cheeke a while, And suffer vile repent to bide controll, What sights, what shewes, what fearefull shapes are these? More dreadfull then appeard to Hecuba, When fall of Troy was figured in her sleepe. Iuno mee thought sent downe from heauen by loue. Came swiftly sweeping through the gloomy aire And calling Fame the Satyres and the nymphs, She gaue them viols full of heauenly dew, With that mounted on her parti-coloured coach Being drawen with peacockes proudly through the aire, She flew with Iris to the sphere of loue. What fearefull thoughts arise upon this show? What desert groue is this? How thus disguisde? Where is Orgalio? Heremy Lord. Sirah, how came I thus disguisde, Like made Orestes quaintly thus disguisd? Like mad Orestes, nay my Lord, you may boldly iustifie the comparison, for Orestes was neuer so mad in his life as you were. What was I mad? What furie hath inchanted me? A furie sure worse than Megera was, That reft her sonne from trustie Pilades. Why, what art thou, some Sybel or some goddesse, freely speake?