Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
What anguish, or what rage o'erflowed my soul, A loving father may imagine best, Yet at that time I did my rage control, But laid it up for ever in my breast. Some of the wise men then I heard remained, Who from their former sentence did recoil, Saying, no danger was since I had reigned, And so dismissed me for my native soil: Where when I had my unripe season spent, Your Letter came to give my fire new fuel, And told how many of the Medes were bent, T'abandon their own Lord that proved so cruel: And wished if to that Sceptre I aspired, That I should move the Persians to rebel, Which did succeed even as my soul desired, For they disdained in servitude to dwell. I placed my gallant troops in warlike order, And lest th'occasion should have slipped away, Marched with my army to my enemies border, Whereas you had the conduct for that day. Lo how those wretches that the heavens would wrack Are spoiled of judgement: that proud Tyrant offered The charge to me not thinking I would take A high revenge for th'injury I suffered, Which was so deeply rooted in my heart, My countries thraldom, and mine own disgrace, And all the horrors that death could impart, Seemed nought to me so my disdain took place. 'tis dangerous trusting one that's wronged we see, Just rancour unrevenged can never die. That was the first beginning of your glory, Which since hath been augmented by degrees, And which by time may breed so brave a story, As may be precious in all PRINCE's eyes. Behold how Croesus with his riches blinded, Durst come t'encounter with my warlike bands, And through a long prosperity highminded, Was not afraid to fall before my hands. But he and his confederates have seen, How Victory doth still my troops attend, And Persia must be once all Asia's Queen, Or we shall war unto the world's end. Now Croesus is o'ercome rich Sardis taken, And Lidia fraught with gold is made our spoil, Th'Egyptians have th'prosperous league forsaken, This is the happy end of all our toil. But ah one sour unseasons all my sweets, Brave Abradatus my brother in arms, Whose praise through all the peopled circuit fleets, And with his love each generous courage warms. Whilst but overbold for to be backed so badly, Th'Egyptian Chariots desperately he charged: There with evil-fortuned valour fighting madly, His soul out of th'earth's prison was enlarged. No doubt that dame this trouble hardly bears, Who only seemed for him t'account of life: I heard him whilst she bathed his Coach with tears, Wish to prove worthy of so rare a wife. When their farewell was sealed, last speeches spent, She kissed the Coach that did contain her trust, And with eyes big with pearl gazed where he went, Still till her sight was choked with clouds of dust.
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)
What anguiſh, or what rage ore-flow'd my ſoule, A louing father may imagin beſt, Yet at that time I did my rage controule, But laid it vp for euer in my breſt. Some of the wiſe men then I heard remain'd, Who from their former ſentence did recoyle, Saying, no danger was ſince I had raignd, And ſo diſmiſt me for my natiue ſoyle: Where when I had my vnripe ſeaſon ſpent, Your Letter came to giue my fire new fuell, And told how many of the Medes were bent, T'abandon their owne Lord that prou'd ſo cruell: And wiſh'd if to that Scepter I aſpir'd, That I ſhould moue the Perſians to rebell, Which did ſucceed euen as my ſoule deſir'd, For they diſdain'd in ſeruitude to dwell. I plac'd my gallant troupes in warlike ordour, And leſt th'occaſion ſhould haue ſlipt away, March'd with my armie to my enemyes bordour, Whereas you had the conduct for that day. Lo how thoſe wretches that the heau'ns would wrack Are ſpoild of iudgement: that proud Tirant offred The charge to me not thinking I would take A high reuenge for th'iniurie I ſuffred, Which was ſo deepelie rooted in my hart, My countryes thraldome, and mine owne diſgrace, And all the horrours that death could impart, Seem'd nought to me ſo my diſdaine tooke place. T'is dangerous truſting one that's wrong'd we ſee, Iuſt rancour vnreueng'd can neuer die. That was the firſt beginning of your glorie, Which ſince hath been augmented by degrees, And which by time may breed ſo braue a ſtorie, As may be pretious in all Princes eyes. Behold how Croeſus with his riches blinded, Durſt come t'encounter with my warlike bands, And through a long proſperitie high-minded, Was not affrayd to fall before my hands. But he and his confederates haue ſeene, How Victorie doth ſtill my troupes attend, And Perſia muſt be once all Aſiaes Queene, Orwe ſhall to the worlds end. Now Croeſus is ore-come rich Sardis taken, And Lidia fraught with gold is made our ſpoyle, Th'Egiptians haue th'vnproſp'rous league forſaken, This is the happie end of all our toyle. But ah one ſowre vnſeaſons all my ſweetes, Braue Abradatus my brother in armes, Whoſe praiſe through all the peopled circuit fleetes, And with his loue each generous courage warmes. Whilſt but ouer-bold for to be backt ſo badlie, Th'Egiptian Chariots deſperatlie he charg'd: There with euill-fortun'd valour fighting madlie, His ſoule out of th'earths priſon was enlarg'd. No doubt that dame this trouble hardlie beares, Who only ſeem'd for him t'account of life: I heard him whilſt ſhe bath'd his Coach with teares, Wiſh to proue worthie of ſo rare a wife. When their farewell was ſeal'd, laſt ſpeaches ſpent, She kiſt the Coach that did containe her truſt, And with eyes big with pearle gaz'd where he went, Still till her ſight was choak'd with cloudes of duſt.