Marlowe, Christopher / Nashe, Thomas · published 1594 · first performed or written 1586 [c.1585-1586; possibly 1591] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.86 · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Wretches of Troy, envied of the winds, That crave such favour at your honours feet, As poor distressed misery may plead: Save, save, O save our ships from cruel fire, That do complain the wounds of thousand waves, And spare our lives whom every spite pursues. We come not we to wrong your Libyan Gods, Or steal your household lares from their shrines: Our hands are not prepared to lawless spoil, Nor armed to offend in any kind: Such force is far from our unweaponed thoughts, Whose fading weal of victory forsook, Forbids all hope to harbour near our hearts. But tell me Trojans, Trojans if you be, Unto what fruitful quarters were ye bound, Before that Boreas buckled with your sails? There is a place Hesperia termed by us, An ancient Empire, famoused for arms, And fertile in fair Ceres' furrowed wealth, Which now we call Italia of his name, That in such peace long time did rule the same: Thither made we, When suddenly gloomy Orion rose, And led our ships into the shallow sands, Whereas the Southern wind with brackish breath, Dispersed them all amongst the wrackful Rocks: From thence a few of us escaped to land, The rest we fear are folded in the floods. Brave men at arms, abandon fruitless fears, Since Carthage knows to entertain distress. ay but the barbarous sort do threat our ships, And will not let us lodge upon the sands: In multitudes they swarm unto the shore, And from the first earth interdict our feet. myself will see they shall not trouble ye, Your men and you shall banquet in our Court, And every Trojan be as welcome here, As Iupiter to silly Vansis' house: Come in with me, I'll bring you to my Queen, Who shall confirm my words with further deeds. Thanks gentle Lord for such unlooked for grace, Might we but once more see Aeneas face, Then would we hope to quite such friendly turns, As shall surpass the wonder of our speech. Where am I now? these should be Carthage walls. Why stands my sweet Aeneas thus amazed? O my Achates, Theban Niobe, Who for her sons death wept out life and breath, And dry with grief was turned into a stone, Had not such passions in her head as I. methinks that town there should be Troy, yond Ida's hill, There Xanthus' stream, because here's Priamus, And when I know it is not, than I die. And in this humour is Achates to, I cannot choose but fall upon my knees, And kiss his hand: O where is Hecuba, Here she was wont to sit, but saving air Is nothing here, and what is this but stone? O yet this stone doth make Aeneas weep, And would my prayers (as Pygmalion's did) Could give it life, that under his conduct We might sail back to Troy, and be revenged On these hard hearted Grecians, which rejoice That nothing now is left of Priamus: O Priamus is left and this is he, Come, come aboard, pursue the hateful Greeks.
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wretches of Troy, enuied of the windes, That craue such fauour at your honors feete, As poore distressed miserie may pleade: Saue, saue, O saue our ships from cruell fire, That doe complaine the wounds of thousand waues, And spare our liues whom euery spite pursues. We come not we to wrong your Libian Gods, Or steale your houshold ares from their shrines: Our hands are not prepar'd to lawles spoyle, Nor armed to offend in any kind: Such force is farre from our vnweaponed thoughts, Whose fading weale of victorie forsooke, Forbids all hope to harbour neere our hearts. But tell me Troians, Troians if you be, Vnto what fruitfull quarters were ye bound, Before that Boreas buckled with your sailes? There is a place Hesperia term'd by vs, An ancient Empire, famoused for armes, And fertile in faire Ceres furrowed wealth, Which now we call Italia of his name, That in such peace long time did rule the same: Thither made we, When suddenly gloomie Orion rose, And led our ships into the shallow sands, Whereas the Southerne winde with brackish breath, Disperst them all amongst the wrackfull Rockes: From thence a fewe of vs escapt to land, The rest we feare are foulded in the flouds. Braue men at armes, abandon fruitles feares, Since Carthage knowes to entertaine distresse. I but the barbarous sort doe threat our ships, And will not let vs lodge vpon the sands: In multitudes they swarme vnto the shoare, And from the first earth interdict our feete. My selfe will see they shall not trouble ye, Your men and you shall banquet in our Court, And euery Troian be as welcome here, As Iupiter to sillie Vasis house: Come in with me, Ile bring you to my Queene, Who shall confirme my words with further deedes. Thankes gentle Lord for such vnlookt for grace, Might we but once more see Aeneas face, Then would we hope to quite such friendly turnes, As shall surpasse the wonder of our speech. Where am I now? these should be Carthage walles. Why stands my sweete Aeneas thus amazde? O my Achates, Theban Niobe, Who for her sonnes death wept out life and breath, And drie with griefe was turnd into a stone, Had not such passions in her head as I. Me thinkes that towne there should be Troy, yon Idas hill, There Zanthus streame, because here's Priamus, And when I know it is not, then I dye. And in this humor is Achates to, I cannot choose but fall vpon my knees, And kisse his hand: O where is Hecuba, Here she was wont to sit, but sauing ayre Is nothing here, and what is this but stone? O yet this stone doth make Aeneas weepe, And would my prayers (as Pigmalions did) Could giue it life, that vnder his conduct We might saile backe to Troy, and be reuengde On these hard harted Grecians, which reioyce That nothing now is left of Priamus: O Priamus is left and this is he, Come, come abourd, pursue the hatefull Greekes.