Peele, George · published 1594 · first performed or written 1589 [1588-1589] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown T59 Spanish courts: war, honour and courtshi typicality 0.76 · 529 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T59: andrea, spain, portugal, tribute, horatio, king, bellimperia, prince, lord, lorenzo.
Now have I set these Portugals a work, To hew a way for me unto the crown, Or with your weapons here to dig your graves, You dastards of the night and Erebus, Fiends, Fairies, hags that fight in beds of steel, Range through this army with your iron whips, Drive forward to this deed this christian crew, And let me triumph in the tragedy, Though it be sealed and honoured with my blood, Both of the Portugal and barbarous Moore, Ride Nemesis, ride in thy fiery cart, And sprinkle gore amongst these men of war, That either party eager of revenge, May honour thee with sacrifice of death, And having bathed thy chariot wheels in blood, Descend and take to thy tormenting hell, The mangled body of that traitor king, That scorns the power and force of Portugal. Then let the earth discover to his ghost, Such tortures as usurpers feel below, Racked let him be in proud Ixion's wheel, Pined let him be with Tantalus endless thirst, Pray let him be to Tison's greedy bird, Wearied with Sisyphus immortal toil, And lastly for revenge, for deep revenge, Whereof thou goddess and deviser art, Damned let him be, damned and condemned to bear All torments, tortures, plagues and pains of hell. Ill be to him that so much ill bethinks, And ill betide this foul ambitious Moore, Whose wily trains with smoothest course of speech. Hath tide and tangled in a dangerous war, The fierce and manly king of Portugal. Now throw the heavens forth their lightning flames, And thunder over Afrique's fatal fields, Blood will have blood, foul murder scape no scourge. At last descendeth fame as Iris, To finish fainting Dido's dying life, Fame from her stately bout doth descend, And on the tree as fruit new ripe to fall, Placeth the crowns of these unhappy kings, That erst she kept in eye of all the world. Now fiery stars and streaming comets blaze, That threat the earth and princes of the same. Fire, fire about the axle-tree of heaven, Who whirls round, and from the foot of Casyopa In fatal hour consumes these fatal crowns, Down falls the diadem of Portugal, The crowns of Barbary and kingdoms fall, Ay me, that kingdoms may not stable stand, And now approaching near the dismal day, The bloody day wherein the battles join, Mondaie the fourth of August seventy eight, The sun shines wholly on the parched earth, The brightest planet in the highest heaven, The heathens eager bent against their foe, Give onset with great ordnance to the war. The christians with great noise of canon shot, Send angry onsets to the enemy. Give ear and hear how war begins his song, With dreadful clamours, noise, and trumpets sound. Alarms within, let the chambers be discharged, then enter to the battle, and the Moores fly. Skirmish still then enter Ab dilmelec in his chair, Zareo and their train. Say on Zareo, tell me all the news, Tell me what fury rangeth in our camp, That hath enforced our Moores to turn their backs. Zareo say, what chance did bode this ill, What ill enforced this dastard cowardice?
seed 43: T61 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Now haue I set these Portugals a worke, To hew a waie for me vnto the crowne, Or with your weapons here to dig your graues, You dastards of the night and Erybus, Fiends, Fairies, hags that fight in beds of steele, Range through this armie with your yron whips, Driue forward to this deed this christian crew, And let me triumph in the tragedie, Though it be seald and honourd with my bloud, Both of the Portugall and barbarous Moore, Ride Nemisis, ride in thy firie cart, And sprinkle gore amongst these men of warre, That either partie eager of reuenge, May honor thee with sacrifice of death, And hauing bath'd thy chariot wheeles in bloud, Descend and take to thy tormenting hell, The mangled bodie of that traitor king, That scornes the power and force of Portugall. Then let the earth discouer to his ghost, Such tortures as vsurpers feele below, Rackt let him be in proud lxions wheele, Pinde let him be with Tantalus endlesse thirst, Praie let him be to Tisons greedie bird, Wearied with Sisiphus immortall toile, And lastly for reuenge, for deepe reuenge, Whereof thou goddesse and deuiser art, Damnd let him be, damnd and condemnd to beare All torments, tortures, plagues and paines of hell. Ill be to him that so much ill bethinkes, And ill betide this foule ambitious Moore, Whose wily traines with smoothest course of speech. Hath tide and tangled in a dangerous warre, The fierce and manly king of Portugall. Nowe throwe the heauens foorth their lightning flames, And thunder ouer Affrickes fatall fields, Bloud will haue bloud, foul murther scape no scourge. At last descendeth fame as Iris, To finish fainting Didoes dying lyfe, Fame from her stately bowte doth descend, And on the tree as fruit new ripe to fall, Placeth the crownes of these vnhappie kings, That earst she kept in eie of all the world. Now sirie starres and streaming comets blaze, That threat the earth and princes of the same. Fire, fire about the axiltree of heauen, Who orles round, and from the foot of Casyopa In fatall houre consumes these fatall crownes, Downe fals the diademe of Portugall, The crownes of Barbary and kingdomes fall, Ay me, that kingdomes may not stable stand, And now approching neere the dismall day, The bloudie daie wherein the battels ioyne, Mondaie the fourth of August seuentie eight, The sunne shines wholy on the parched earth, The brightest planet in the highest heauen, The heathens eager bent against their foe, Giue onset with great ordnance to the warre. The christians with great noise of canon shot, Send angrie onsets to the enemie. Geue eare and heare how warre begins his song, With dreadfull clamors, noise, and trumpets sound. Alarums within, let the chambers be discharged, then enter to the battell, and the Moores flie. Skirmish still then enter Ab dilmelec in his chaire, Zareo and their traine. Saie on Zareo, tell me all the newes, Tell me what furie rangeth in our campe, That hath inforst our Moores to turne their backes. Zareo saie, what chance did bode this ill, What ill inforst this dastard cowardise?