Wilson, Robert · published 1594 · first performed or written 1590 [c.1589-1593] (Annals) moral · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.74 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Mars though thou be a Cock of the game, that wontst to crow by day, And with thy sharpened spurs the craven cocks didst kill and slay: Sith now thou dost but prune thy wings, and make thy feathers gay: A dunghill Cock that crows by night, shall slily thee betray, And tread thy Hen, and for a time shall carry her away. And she by him shall hatch a Chick, this Country to decay. And for this pretty pullet's name thou shalt the better learn: When thou shalt only letters find within one name discern, Three vowels and two consonants, which vowels if thou scan, Doth sound that which to every place conducteth every man. Then call to mind this Prophecy, for that's the Bastard's name: Then rouse thyself, then reach thy sword, and win thy wonted fame. Now have I done the task for which I came, And so farewell fine Master and nice Dame. A dunghill cock to tread my hen? Break forth ye angry powers, And fill the world with bloodshed and with rage. My Lord, my Love. Venus I am abused. Why will ye trust a fool when he shall speak, And take his words to be as Oracles? But he hath touched me near, and I'll revenge. ay me! Revenge true Lovers wrongs immortal powers, And near let Lady trust a soldier. Why faintest thou Venus? why art thou distressed? Look up my love, speak Venus, speak to me. Nay let me die, sith Mars hath wronged me. Thou hast not wronged me, Mars believes it not. Yes, yes, base Cobblers utter Oracles, And all are sooth fast words against poor Love, I will believe no words, they are all false: Only my Venus is as bright as heaven, And firmer than the poles that hold up heaven. Now comes your love too late, first have you slain Her whom your honey words cannot recure again. I will do penance on my knees to thee, And beg a kiss, that have been so unkind, And know you not, unkindness kills a woman? I know it doth? sweet forgive my fault: I will forgive ye now ye beg so hard, But trust me next time I'll not be entreated. Now hast thou cheered my drooping thoughts sweet love, Let me lay down my head upon thy knee, Sing one sweet song, thy voice will ravish me. Folly come forth. anon forsooth. Bid Niceness, New fangle, Dalliance and the rest bring forth their Music Mars intends to sleep. I will forsooth. I think in deed that I shall quickly sleep, Especially with Music and with song. Sweet are the thoughts that harbour full content, Delight full be the joys that know no care: The sleeps are sound that are from dreams exempt, Yet in chief sweets lies hid a secret snare, Where love is watched by prying jealous eyes, It fits the loved to be wary wise. Peep, peep, Madam he is asleep.
seed 43: T28 · seed 44: T22 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Mars though thou be a Cocke of the game, that wontst to croe by day, And with thy sharpned spurres the crauen Cockes didst kill and say: Sith now thou dost but prune thy wings, and make thy fethers gay: A dunghill Cocke that croes by night, shall slilie thee betray, And tread thy Hen, and for a time shall carrie her away. And she by him shall hatch a Chicke, this Countrey to decay. And for this pretie Pullets name thou shalt the better learne: When thou shalt onelie letters fin within one name discerne, Three vowels and two consonants, vvhich vovvels if thou scan, Doth sound that vvhich to euerie place conducteth euerie man. Then call to minde this Prophecie, for thats the bastards name: Then rouse thy selfe, then reach thy sword, and win thy wonted fame. Now haue I done the taske for which I came, And so farewell fine Master and nice Dame. A dunghill cocke to tread my hen? Breake forth yee hangrie powers, And fill the world with bloodshed and with rage. My Lord, my Loue. Venus I am abusde. VVhy will yee trust a foole when he shall speake, And take his words to be as Oracles? But hee hath tucht me neere, and Ile reuenge. Aye mee! Reuenge true Louers wrongs immortall powers, And nere let Lady trust a souldiet. VVhy faintst thou Venus? why art thou distrest? Looke vp my loue, speake Venus, speake to me. Nay let me die, sith Mars hath wronged me. Thou hast not wrongd me, Mars beleeues it not. Yes, yes, base Coblers vtter Oracles, And al are sooth fast words against pore Loue, I will beleeue no words, they are all false: Onely my Venus is as bright as heauen, And firmer than the poles that hold vp heauen. Now comes your loue too late, first haue you slaine Her whome your honny words cannot recure againe. I will doe pennance on my knees to thee, And beg a kisse, that haue bin so vnkinde, And know you not, vnkindnes kills a woman? I know it doth? sweet forgiue my fault: I will forgiue ye now ye beg so hard, But trust me next time Ile not be intreated. Now hast thou cheard my drooping thoughts sweet loue, Let me lay downe my head vpon thy knee, Sing one sweet song, thy voice will rauish me. Follie come forth. Anone forsooth. Bid Nicenes, New fangle, Dalliance and the rest bring forth their Musicke Mars intends to sleepe. I will forsooth. I thinke in deede that I shall quickly sleepe, Especially with Musicke and with song. Svveet are the thoughts that harbor full content, Delight full be the ioyes that knovv no care: The sleeps are sound that are from dreames exempt, Yet in cheefe svveetes lies hid a secret snare, Where loue is wacht by prying iealous eyes, It fits the loued to be warie wise. Peepe, peepe, Maddam he is a sleepe▪