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 T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.76 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Then dead is the fatal author of my ill, Base villain, vassal, unworthy of a crown, Know that the man that struck the fatal stroke, Is Orlando the County Palatine, Whom fortune sent to quittance all my wrongs Thou foiled and slain, it now behoves me straight To hie me fast to massacre thy men, And so farewell thou devil in shape of man. Hath Demogorgon ruler of the fates, Set such a baleful period on my life, As none might end the days of Sacrepant, But mighty Orlando rival of my love, Now holdeth the fatal murderers of men, The sharpened knife ready to cut my thread, Ending the scene of all my tragedy, This day, this hour, this minute ends the days Of him that lived worthy old Nestor's age. Phoebus put on thy fable suited wreath, Clad all thy spheres in dark and mourning weeds. Parched be the earth to drink up every spring, Let corn and trees be blasted from above, Heaven turn to brass, & earth to wedge of steel The world to cinders, Mars come thundering down, And never sheathe thy swift revenging sword, Till like the deluge in Deucalion's days, The highest mountains swim in streams of blood. Heaven, earth, men, beasts, & every living thing Consume and end with county Sacrepant. Fought is the field, & Sacrepant is slain, With such a massacre of all his men, As Mars descending in his purple rob, Vows with Bellona in whole heaps of blood To banquet all the demi gods of war. See where he lies slaughtered without the camp, And by a simple swain, a mercenary, Who bravely took the combat to himself, Might I but know the man that did the deed, I would my Lord eternize him with fame. Leaving the factious county to his death, Command my Lord his body be conveyed Unto some place as likes your Highness best, See Marsillus posting through Africa, We have found this straggling girl Angelica, Who for she wronged her love Orlando Chiefest of the Western peers, Conversing with so mean a man as Medor was, We will have her punished by the laws of France, To end her burning lust in flames of fire. Beshrew you lordings but you do your worst. Fire, famine, and as cruel death, As fell to Nero's mother in his rage. Father, if I may dare to call thee so, And Lords of France come from the Western seas. In quest to find mighty Orlando out, Yet ere I die let me have leave to say, Angelica held ever in her thoughts, Most dear the love of County Palatine: What wretch hath wronged us with suspect of love, I know not I, nor can accuse the man: But by the heavens whereto my soul shall fly, Angelica did never wrong Orlando. I speak not this as one that cares to live, For why, my thoughts are fully malcontent, And I conjure you by your Chivalry, You quit Orlando's wrong upon Angelica.
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Then dead is the fatall authour of my ill, Base villaine, vassall, vnworthie of a crowne, Knowe that the man that strucke the fatall stroke, Is Orlando the Countie Palatine, Whome fortune sent to quittance all my wrongs Thou foild and slain, it now behoues me straight To hie me fast to massacre thy men, And so farewell thou deuill in shape of man. Hath Demogorgon ruler of the fates, Set such a balefull period on my life, As none might end the daies of Sacrepant, But mightie Orlando riuall of my loue, Now holdeth the fatall murderers of men, The sharpned knife readie to cut my threed, Ending the scene of all my tragedie, This daie, this houre, this minute ends the daies Of him that liude worthie olde Nestors age. Phoebus put on thy fable suted wreath, Cladde all thy spheres in darke and mourning weedes. Parcht be the earth to drinke vp euery spring, Let corne and trees be blasted from aboue, Heauen turne to brasse, & earth to wedge of steel The worlde to cinders, Mars come thundering downe, And neuer sheath thy swift reuenging swoorde, Till like the deluge in Dewcalions daies, The higgest mountaines swimme in streames of bloud. Heauen, earth, men, beasts, & euerie liuing thing Consume and end with countie Sacrepant. Fought is the field, & Sacrepant is slaine, With such a massacre of all his men, As Mars descending in his purple robe, Vowes with Bellona in whole heapes of bloud To banquet all the demie gods of warre. See where hee lies slaughtered without the campe, And by a simple swaine, a mercenarie, Who brauely tooke the combat to himselfe, Might I but know the man that did the deede, I would my Lord eternize him with fame. Leauing the factious countie to his death, Command my Lord his bodie be conuaid Vnto some place as likes your Highnes best, See Marsillus poasting thorough Affrica, We haue found this stragling girle Angelica, Who for she wrongd her loue Orlando Chiefest of the Westerne peeres, Conuersing with so meane a man as Medor was, We will haue her punisht by the lawes of France, To end her burning lust in flames of fire. Beshrew you lordings but you doe your worst. Fire, famine, and as cruell death, As fell to Neros mother in his rage. Father, if I may dare to call thee so, And Lordes of France come from the Westerne seas. In quest to finde mightie Orlando out, Yet ere I die let me haue leaue to say, Angelica held euer in her thoughts, Most deare the loue of Countie Palatine: What wretch hath wrongd vs with suspect of loue, I know not I, nor can accuse the man: But by the heauens whereto my soule shall flie, Angelica did neuer wrong Orlando. I speake not this as one that cares to liue, For why, my thoughts are fully malecontent, And I coniure you by your Chiualrie, You quit Orlandos wrong vpon Angelica.