The Wars of Cyrus, King of Persia · chunk 25 of 26
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 0.70 · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Pardon me Cyrus though I do repine, why should we draw lots for our proper right? I'll have it so, Histaspis be content. The lots are ready. Histaspis I command thee to begin, Now Abradates and the rest. Fortune hath favoured me, the lot is mine. Then thou shalt lead the forefront, let us match, The enemy is near, make haste my Lord. Here Abradates, Cyrus placeth thee, Lead warily, and fight courageously. As mine own life so tender I these men, Now to the battle, Panthea Farewell. Farewell, and my good angel follow thee, And every star that reigned when I was borne, Whose influence hath kept me yet from harm, Unfortunate be to make thee blessed. And misery cease on Nicasia, So Abradates be kept from harm. Ye Persian Deities for Cyrus' sake, Assyrian Gods for Abradates sake, Give victory unto the Persians, That I may see my husband wear this wreath. Madam, Bellona's shrine is hear at hand, O let us go to offer sacrifice, To make her more propitious to his grace, For now he is amongst th' Assyrian troops. I'll offer all my jewels on the shrine, And make sweet fumes of Ambergris and Myrrh, Of Indian Cassia, Musk and Frankincense, That Abradates may be conqueror, First at her altar let us jointly sing, For music is a sacrifice to her. Great lords to whom the Assyrian sceptre yields and Babylon through right of victory, Lies open to those conquering swords of yours, How fares my lord, my lord and loving fear, My Abradates, lives he conqueror, Or left by destiny numbered with the dead? Fair Lady, virtuous, chaste, and amiable, I trust your love among the living dwells, and like a champion and a knight at arms, will show himself or many hours expire, His temples adorned with victorious palm. When to the sight my lord addressed his bands Devoutly entered I Belona's fame, And there before the altar of the Saint, Perfumed the air with smoke of holy fire, And breathed forth my plaints and eke my moans, Thrice I me seemed the Goddess turned her face, Offending-like frowning with angry brows, Against my prayers and my holy vows, O Cyrus, if my jealous thoughts divine, Some dismal sequel to this fantasy, Yet pardon me seeing women's wits are weak, And loves abounds with superstitious fear. Madam, I trust the presence of your Lord, Returning back in triumph and renown, Shall soon remove those thoughts out of your mind, So grant the Gods my country's presidents, What slaughtered body do you Persians bring? Cyrus the body of the Susian king, Stout Abradates by the Egyptians slain. Now let my Lord the prince of Persia judge, whether unhappy Panthea feared in vain, O noble love whose manly heart deserved, To joy the benefit of longer life, And richer Trophies to enlarge the same. But tell us now after what sort he died?
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)
Pardon me Cyrus though I do repine, why ſhould we draw lots for our proper right? Ile haue it ſo, Hiſtaſpis be content. The lots are readie. Hiſtaſpis I commaund thee to begin, Now Abradates and the reſt. Fortune hath fauoured me, the lot is mine. Then thou ſhalt lead the forefront, let vs match, The enemie is neare, make haſte my Lord. Here Abradates, Cyrus placeth thee, Leade warily, and fight couragiouſlie. As mine owne life ſo tender I theſe men, Now to the battell, Panthea Farewell. Farewell, and my good angell follow thee, And euerie ſtarre that raignd when I was borne, Whoſe influence hath kept me yet from harme, Vnfortunate be to make thee bleſt▪ And miſerie ceaſe on Nicaſia, So Abradates be kept from harme. Ye Perſian Deities for Cyrus ſake, Aſſyrian Gods for Abradates ſake, Giue victorie vnto the Perſians, That I may ſee my husband weare this wreath. Madam, Bellonas ſhrine is heare at hand, O let vs go to offer ſacrifice, To make her more propitious to his grace, For now he is amongſt th' Aſſyrian troupes. Ile offer all my iewels on the ſhrine, And make ſweet fumes of Ambergreece and Myrrhe, Of Indian Caſsia, Muske and Frankinſenſe, That Abradates may be conquerour, Firſt at her aulter let vs ioyntly ſing, For Mnſicke is a ſacrifice to her. Great lords to whom the Aſſyrian ſcepter yeelds and Babylon through right of victorie, Lies open to thoſe conquering ſwords of yours, How fares my lord, my lord and louing feere, My Abradates, liues he conquerour, Or left by deſtnie numbred with the dead? Faire Ladie, vertuous, chaſt, and amiable, I truſt your loue among the liuing dwels, and like a champion and a knight at armes, will ſhew himſelfe or manie houres expire, His temples adornde with victorious palme. When to the ſight my lord adreſt his bands Deuoutly entred I Belonas fame, And there before the aultar of the Saint, Perfumde the ayre with ſmoke of holie fire, And breathed forth my plaints and eke my mones, Thrice I me ſeemed the Goddeſſe turnde her face, Offending-like frowning with angrie browes, Againſt my prayers and my holie vowes, O Cyrus, if my iealous thoughts diuine, Some diſmall ſequell to this fantaſie, Yet pardon me ſeeing womens wittes are weake, And loues aboundes with ſuperſtitious feare. Madam, I truſt the preſence of your Lord, Returning backe in triumph and renowme, Shall ſoone remoue thoſe thoughts out of your mind, So graunt the Gods my countries preſidentes, What ſlaughtered bodie do you Perſians bring? Cyrus the bodie of the Suſian king, Stout Abradates by the Egyptians ſlaine. Now let my Lord the prince of Perſia iudge, whether vnhappie Panthea feared in vaine, O noble loue whoſe manly heart deſerude, To ioy the benefite of longer life, And richer Trophes to enlarge the ſame. But tell vs now after what ſort he died?