The Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba · chunk 17 of 26
Marston, John · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 464 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
The Libean speaks bold sense By that by which all is, Proportion, I speak with thought. No more. Forgive my admiration You touched a string to which my sense was quick, Can you but think? do, do; my grief! my grief Would make a Saint blaspheme: give some relief, As thou art Scipio forgive that I forget, I am a Soldier; such woes Ioues ribs would burst, Few speak less ill that feel so much of worst. My ear attends Before than Syphax join With new strengthened Carthage, or can once unwind His tangled sense from out so wild amaze Fall we like sudden lightning fore his eyes; Boldness and speed are all of victories. Scipio, let Massinissa clip thy knees; May once these eyes view Syphax? shall this arm Once make him feel his sinew? O ye Gods My cause, my cause! justice is so huge odds That he who with it fears, Heaven must renounce In his creation. Beat then a close quick march Before the morn shall shake cold dews through skies, Syphax shall tremble at Rome's thick alarms. Ye powers I challenge conquest to just arms. With a full flourish of cornets they depart. Where are we Zanthia? Vangue said the cave opened in Belos forest. Lord how sweet I sent the air? the huge longe vaults close vain, What dumps it breathed? In Belos forest sayst? Be valiant Zanthia; how far's Utica From these most heavy shades? Ten easy leagues. there's Massinissa, my true Zanthia shalls venture nobly to escape, and touch My Lords just arms: loves wings so justly heave The body up, that as our toes shall trip Over the tender and obedient grass, Scarce any drop of dew is dashed to ground. And see the willing shade of friendly night Makes safe our instant haste: Boldness and speed Make actions most impossible succeed. But Madam know the forest hath no way But one to pass the which holds strictest guard. Do not betray me Zanthia. I Madam. No I not mistrust thee, yet, but, Here you may Delay your time. I Zanthia delay By which we may yet hope, yet hope, Alas How all benumbed's my sense Chance hath so often I scarce cā feele: I should now curse the Gods ▪struck Call on the furies: stamp the patient earth cleave my stretched cheeks with sound speak from all sense But loud and full of player's eloquence No, no, What shall we eat. Madam i'll search For some ripe Nuts which Autumn hath shook down From the unleaved hazel, than some cooler air Shall lead me to a spring: Or I will try The courteous pale of some poor foresters, For milk. Do Zanthia, O happiness, Of those that know not pride or lust of city,
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Libean speakes bold sense By that by which all is, Proportion, I speake with thought. No more. Forgiue my admiration You toucht a string to which my sense was quick, Can you but thinke? doe, do; my greefe! my greefe Would make a Saint blaspheme: giue some releefe, As thou art Scipio forgiue that I forget, I am a Soldier; such woes Ioues ribs would burst, Few speake lesse ill that feele so much of worst. My eare attends Beefore then Syphax ioine With new strength'd Carthage, or can once vnwind His tangled sense from out so vilde amaze Fall we like suddeine lightning fore his eyes; Boldnesse and spead are all of victories. Scipio, let Massinissa clip thy knees; May once these eyes vew Syphax? shall this arme Once make him feele his sinue? O yee Gods My cause, my cause! Iustice is so huge odds That he who with it feares, Heauen must renounce In his creatiō. Beat then a close quicke march Before the morne shall shake cold dewes through skyes, Syphax shall tremble at Romes thicke allarmes. Yee powres I challenge conquest to just armes. With a full florish of Cornettes they depart. Where are wee Zanthia? Vangue said the caue Op'ned in Belos forrest. Lord how sweete I sent the ayre? the huge longe vaultes close vaine, What dumps it breathd? In Belos forrest sayst? Be valiant Zanthia; how farr's Vtica From these most heauy shades? Ten easy leages. Thers Massinissa, my true Zanthia Shals venture nobly to escape, and touch My Lordes just armes: Loues winges so justly heaue The body vp, that as our toes shall trip Ouer the tender and obedient grasse, Scarse any drop of dew is dasht to ground. And see the willing shade of friendly night Makes safe our instant haste: Boldnesse and speede Make actions wost impossible succeede. But Madam know the forrest hath no way But one to passe the which holds strictest gard. Doe not betray me Zanthia. I Madam. No I not mistrust thee, yet, but, Here you may Delay your time. I Zanthia delay By which we may yet hope, yet hope, Alas How all be numd's my sense Chaunce hath so often I scarce cā feele: I should now curse the Gods ▪struck Call on the furies: stampe the patient earth cleaue my streachd cheeks with sound speake from all sense But loud and full of players eloquence No, no, What shall we eate. Madam ile search For some ripe Nuts which Autumn hath shook down From the vnleau'd Hasel, then some cooler ayre Shall lead me to a spring: Or I will try The courteous pale of some poore forrestres, For milke. Do Zanthia, O happinesse, Of those that know not pride or lust of citty,