The Tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron · chunk 3 of 37
Chapman, George · published 1608 · first performed or written 1608 [1607-1608] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea typicality 0.77 · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
The very beasts knew the alarum bell, And (hearing it) ran bellowing to their home: From which unchristian broils and homicides, Let the religious sword of justice free Thee and thy kingdoms governed after me. O heaven! or if th'unsettled blood of France, With ease, and wealth, renew he civil furies: Let all my powers be emptied in my Son To curb, and end them all, as I have done. Let him by virtue, quite out of from fortune, Her feathered shoulders, and her winged shoes, And thrust from her light feet, her turning stone, That she may ever tarry by his throne. And of his worth, let after ages say, (He fighting for the land; and bringing home Just conquests, loaden with his enemies spoils) His father past all France in martial deeds, But he, his father twenty times exceeds. My dear friends D'Auvergne and Laffin, We need no conjurations to conceal: Our close intendments, to advance our states Even with our merits; which are now neglected; Since Britain is reduced, and breathless war Hath sheathed his sword, and wrapped his Ensigns up; The King hath now no more use of my valour, And therefore I shall now no more enjoy The credit that my service held with him; My service that hath driven through all extremes, Through tempests, droughts, and through the deepest floods; Winter's of shot: and over rocks so high That birds could scarce aspire their ridgy tops; The world is quite inverted: virtue thrown At Vice's feet: and sensual peace confounds, Valour, and cowardice: Fame, and Infamy; The rude and terrible age is turned again: When the thick air hid heaven, and all the stars, Were drowned in humour, tough, and hard to pierce, When the red Sun held not his fixed place; Kept not his certain course, his rise and set Nor yet distinguished with his definite bounds; Nor in his firm conversions, were discerned The fruitful distances of time and place, In the well varied seasons of the year; When th'incomposed incursions of floods Wasted and eat the earth; and all things showed Wild and disordered: nought was worse than now; we must reform and have a new creation Of State and government; and on our Chaos Will I sit brooding up another world. I who through all the dangers that can siege The life of man, have forced my glorious way To the repairing of my country's ruins, Will ruin it again, to readvance it; Roman Camillus, saved the State of Rome With far less merit, than Byron hath France; And how short of this is my recompense. The king shall know, I will have better price Set on my services; in spite of whom I will proclaim and ring my discontents Into the farthest ear of all the world. How great a spirit he breathes? how learned? how wise? But (worthy Prince) you must give temperate air, To your unmatched, and more than humane wind; Else will our plots be frost-bit, in the flower.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The very beasts knew the alarum bell, And (hearing it) ranne bellowing to their home: From which vnchristian broiles and homicides, Let the religious sword of iustice free Thee and thy kingdomes gouern'd after me. O heauen! or if th'vnsettled bloud of France, VVith ease, and welth, renew he iuill furies: Let all my powers be emptied in my Sonne To curb, and end them all, as I haue done. Let him by vertue, quite out of from fortune, Her fetherd shoulders, and her winged shooes, And thrust from her light feete, her turning stone▪ That she may euer tarry by his throne. And of his worth, let after ages say, (He fighting for the land; and bringing home Iust conquests, loden with his enimies spoiles) His father past all France in martiall deeds, But he, his father twenty times exceedes. My deare friends D'Avuergne ▪ and Laffin, We neede no coniurations to conceale: Our close intendments, to aduance our states Euen with our merits; which are now neclected; Since Britaine is reduc't, and breathlesse warre Hath sheath'd his sword, and wrapt his Ensignes vp; The King hath now no more vse of my valure, And therefore I shall now no more enioy The credite that my seruice held with him; My seruice that hath driuen through all extreames, Through tempests, droughts, and through the deepest floods; Winters of shot: and ouer rockes so high That birds could scarce aspire their ridgy toppes; The world is quite inuerted: vertue throwne At Vices feete: and sensuall peace confounds, Valure, and cowardise: Fame, and Infamy; The rude and terrible age is turnd againe: When the thicke ayre hid heauen, and all the starres, Were drown'd in humor, tough, and hard to peirse, When the red Sunne held not his fixe place; Kept not his certaine course, his rise and set Nor yet distinguisht with his definite boundes; Nor in his firme conuersions, were discernd The fruitfull distances of time and place, In the well varyed seasons of the yeare; When th'incomposd incursions of floods Wasted and eat the earth; and all things shewed Wilde and disordred: nought was worse then now; Wee must reforme and haue a new creation Of State and gouernment; and on our Chaos Will I sit brooding vp another world. I who through all the dangers that can siege The life of man, haue forcst my glorious way To the repayring of my countries ruines, Will ruine it againe, to re-aduance it; Romaine Camyllus, safte the State of Rome With farre lesse merite, then Byron hath France; And how short of this is my recompence. The king shall know, I will haue better price Set on my seruices; in spight of whome I will proclaime and ring my discontents Into the farthest eare of all the world. How great a spirit he breaths? how learnd? how wise? But (worthy Prince) you must giue temperate ayre, To your vnmatcht, and more then humaine winde; Else will our plots be frost-bit, in the flowre.