The Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba · chunk 9 of 26
Marston, John · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 462 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Phoebus in me is great: Carthage must fall Ioue hats all vice but vow's breach worst of all. Mount us again, give us another horse Uncle your blood flows fast, pray ye withdraw O Iugurth I cannot bleed too fast. too much For that so great, so just so royal Carthage My wound smarts not, bloods loss makes me not faint For that loved City, O Nephew let me tell thee, How good that Carthage is: it nourished me, And when full time gave me fit strength for love, The most adored creature of the city. To us before great Syphax did they yield, Fair, noble, modest, and 'bove all, my, My Sophonisba, O Iugurth my strength doubles I know not how to turn a coward, drop In feeble baseness, I cannot: give me horse, Know I am Carthage very creature, and I am graced, That I may bleed for them: give me fresh horse. He that doth public good for multitude, Finds few are truly grateful. O Iugurth, fie you must not say so, Iugurth, Some common weals may let a noble heart, Too forward bleeds abroad and bleed bemond, But not revenged at home, but Carthage, fie It cannot be ungrate, faithless through fear, It cannot Iugurth: Sophonisba's there, Beat a fresh charge. Sound the retreat, respect your health brave Prince, The waste of blood throws paleness on your face, By light, my hearts not pale: O my loved father, We bleed for Carthage balsam to my wounds, We bleed for Carthage: shall's restore the fight? My squadron of Massulians yet stands firm. The day looks off from Carthage cease all arms A modest temperance is the life of arms, Take our best surgeon Gisco, he is sent From Carthage to attend your chance of war, We promise sudden ease. Thy comforts good That nothing can secure us but thy blood: Infuse it in his wound, 'twill work amain, O Ioue, What Ioue? thy God must be thy gain And as for me. Thou know'st, a statist must not be a man. Forbear, how art thou called? Gisco my Lord. umh, Gisco, ha, touch not mine arm, most only man, Sirrah, sirrah, art poor? not poor. Nephew command Our troops of horse make indisgraced retreat, Trot easy off: not poor: Iugurth give charge, My soldiers stand in square battalia, Entirely of themselves: Gisco thouart old, 'tis time to leave off murder, thy faint breath. Scarce heaves thy ribs, thy gummy bloodshot eyes, Are sunk a great way in thee, thy lank skin, Slides from thy fleshless veins: be good to men, judge him ye Gods, I had not life to kill So base a Creature, hold Gisco () live, The Godlike part of Kings is to forgive, Command astonished Gisco.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Phoebus in me is great: Carthage must fall Ioue hats all vice but vows breach worst of all. Mount vs againe, giue vs another horse Vncle your bloud flows fast, pray ye withdraw O Iugurth I cannot bleed too fast. too much For that so great, so iust so royall Carthage My wound smarts not, blouds losse maks me not faint For that lou'de Citty, O Nephew let me tell thee, How good that Carthage is: it nourishde me, And when full time gaue me fit strength for loue, The most adored creature of the citty. To vs before great Syphax did they yeeld, Faire, noble, modest, and boue all, my, My Sophonisba, O Iugurth my strength doubles I know not how to turne a coward, drop In feeble basenes, I cannot: giue me horse, Know I am Carthage very creature, and I am gracde, That I may bleed for them: giue me fresh horse. He that doth publike good for multitude, Findes few are truely gratefull. O Iugurth, fie you must not say so, Iugurth, Some common weales may let a noble hart, Too forward bleeds abroad and bleed bemond, But not reuengd at home, but Carthage, fie It cannot be vngrate, faithles through feare, It cannot Iugurth: Sophonisba's there, Beat a fresh charge. Sound the retraite, respect your health braue Prince, The waste of blood throw's palenes on your face, By light, my harts not pale: O my lou'd father, We bleed for Carthage Balsum to my woundes, We bleede for Carthage: shals restore the fight? My squadron of Massulians yet stands firme. The day lookes off from Carthage cease all arms A modest temperance is the life of armes, Take our best surgeon Gisco, he is sent From Carthage to attend your chance of warre, We promise sudden ease. Thy cōforts good That nothing can secure vs but thy blood: Infuse it in his wound, t'will worke amaine, O Ioue, What Ioue? thy God must be thy gain And as for me. Thou know'st, a statist must not be a man. Forbeare, how art thou cald? Gisco my Lord. Vm, Gisco, ha, touch not mine arme, most onely man, Sirrha, sirrha, art poore? not poore. Nephew cōmand Our troupes of horse make indisgracde retraite, Trot easie off: not poore: Iugurth giue charge, My souldiers stand in square battalia, Intirely of themselues: Gisco th'art old, Tis time to leaue off murder, thy faint breath. Scarce heaues thy ribs, thy gummy bloud-shut eyes, Are sunke a great way in thee, thy lanke skinne, Slides from thy fleshlesh veines: be good to men, Iudge him yee Gods, I had not life to kill So base a Creature, hold Gisco () liue, The God-like part of Kings is to forgiue, Command astonishd Gisco.