Anonymous · published 1594 · first performed or written 1588 [1587-1594] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Chapel (first) (Oxford's Boys) T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so typicality 0.73 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
I am, (I am said I) I was a man, Erst noble, now banished reprobate, Highly in favour with the Assyrian prince, Till sensual rage of his unbridled lust, Did lay my state and honour in the dust, And thus great Lord begun my Tragedy, One only virgin daughter had your thrall, Of years inclining now to marriage state, Her face and beauty (if I seem not vain) were equal to the best Assyrian dames, And she supposed the flower of Babylon. The bruit of which her rare perfections ran, Swifter than Fame through all th' Assyrian land, And lastly rested in the princes ears, Who wounded with report of beauty's pride, Unable to restrain his darn desire, A trended by a band of armed men, Invades my castle when I was at rest, And bore my daughter thence with violate hands, Unto his palace where she doth remain, As concubine allotted to his bed. Striving her desperate honour to preserve, I came in frantic sort to Babylon, Exclaiming on this villainous despite, Banding the prince with many a bitter view, My just complaints when once he understood, He sorts me out a damned bloody crew, Of rustians, swearers, murderers, and thieves, Professed men for gain and lucre's sake, To make no conscience whom they slay and kill, Those men by solemn oath had vowed my life, A sacrifice unto their cursed swords, And hour by hour they sought to reave my soul, Living in hazard of continual death, I knew no home for me at Babylon, Other than my grave and doomless sepulchre, And so for refuge to my wretched life, I have abandoned country, friends and all, And prostrate my estate at Cyrus' feet, O puissant Lord whose great and conquering sword, was forged by Mars and made for victory, Protect the life of thy unhappy thrall, And make him follower of the Persian arms, That in the fortune of thy mighty hand, The fall of Ctesiphon may be revenged. O Ctesiphon this tale of thine revives The woeful memory of my dearest son, Slaughtered by that most barbarous tyrant hand. Gobrias ye have heard the Assyrian tale. What great complaints he makes against the prince, And those not causeless if his words be true, Now Cyrus is not rashly credulous, Nor binds his faith on every strangers vows. Tell me Gobrias, dost thou simply think, That this discourse is nought but naked truth, Or else some forged or dissembled gloze, To sound our secrets, and bewray our drifts. Cyrus the disposition of this prince, Sold up and sworn to endless villainies, May prove the griefs of Ctesiphon unfeigned, Upon my conscience Cyrus trust the man, No doubt his sorrow and complaints are true. O Cyrus so it pleased the immortal Gods, How happy were thy servant, if his words proceeded from a vain dissembling tongue, So were my daughter's honour undefiled, And Ctesiphon her father not exiled.
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: T18 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I am, (I am ſaid I) I was a man, Earſt noble, now baniſht reprobate, Highlie in fauour with the Aſſyrian prince, Till ſenſuall rage of his vnbrideled luſt, Did lay my ſtate and honour in the duſt, And thus great Lord begun my Tragedie, One onely virgin daughter had your thrall, Of yeares inclining now to mariage ſtate, Her face and beautie (if I ſeeme not vaine) were equall to the beſt Aſſyrian dames, And ſhe ſuppoſde the flower of Babylon. The bruite of which her rare perfections ran, Swifter than Fame through all th' Aſſyrian land, And laſtly reſted in the princes eares, Who wounded with report of beauties pride, Vnable to reſtraine his derne deſire, A trended by a band of armed men, Inuades my caſtell when I was at reſt, And bare my daughter thence with violate hands, Vnto his pallace where ſhe doth remaine, As concubine allotted to his bed. Striuing her deſperate honour to preſerue, I came in frantike ſort to Babylon, Exclaiming on this villainous deſpite, Banding the prince with many a bitter view, My iuſt complaints when once he vnderſtood, He ſortes me out a damned bloudie crew, Of ruſtians, ſwearers, murderers, and theeues, Profeſſed men for gaine and lucre ſake, To make no conſcience whom they ſlay and kill, Thoſe men by ſolemne othe had vowed my life, A ſacrifice vnto their curſed ſwordes, And houre by houre they ſought to reaue my ſoule, Liuing in hazard of continuall death, I knew no hoe for me at Babylon, Other then my graue and dumleſſe ſepulchre, And ſo for refuge to my wretched life, I hue abandoned countrey, friends and all, And proſtrate my eſtate at Cyrus feete, O puiſſant Lord whoſe great and conquering ſworde, was forgde by Mars and made for victorie, Protect the life of thy vnhappie thrall, And make him follower of the Perſianarmes, That in the fortune of thy mightie hand, The fall of Cteſiphon may be reuengde. O Cteſiphon this tale of thine reuiues The wofull memorie of my deareſt ſonne, Slaughtered by that moſt barbarous tyrant hand. Gobrias ye haue heard the Aſſyrian tale. What great complaints he makes againſt the prince, And thoſe not cauſeleſſe if his wordes be true, Now Cyrus is not raſhly credulous, Nor bindes his faith on euerie ſtrangers vowes. Tell me Gobrias, doſt thou ſimplie thinke, That this diſcourſe is naught but naked truth, Or elſe ſome forged or diſſembled gloſe, To ſound our ſecrets, and bewray our drifts. Cyrus the diſpoſition of this prince▪ Solde vp and ſworne to endleſſe villanies, May proue the griefes of Cteſiphon vnfained, Vpon my conſcience Cyrus truſt the man, No doubt his ſorrow and complaints are true. O Cyrus ſo it pleaſde the immortall Gods, How happie were thy ſeruant, if his words proceeded from a vaine diſſembling tongue, So were my daughters honor vndefiled, And Cteſiphon her father not exiled.