The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 16 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 531 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Rise. I'll spare thy life. Revenge sufficient for thy damned facts; For to a seared conscience these do well, Long life, men's hate, and a perpetual hell. Yet, that thou mayest live, to atone thy soul Unto the angry heavens, I freely give The Kingdom of North-Wales for term of life, To thy dispose; only reserving tribute to myself, In just acknowledgement of me and mine. Know, Caradoc, since by the chance of war, I must be forced to render up that right, That like a slave I might have kept by might, I scorn thy gifts, and rather choose to live In the vast wilderness with fatal Owls, Free from the malice of base buzzard Chance, And there in hushed up silence raving go; Then earth, except be hell, no place so low. Then with high alms, I'll to the Romans, and there plot, pell-mell. Vessels that once are seasoned, keep their smell. Welshmen, farewell; and Caradoc adieu; Under the heavens, we have no foe but you. Now Royal Prince, since happy victory Hath set a period to a bloody fight, Cornwall, in humble manner, here presents Himself and service to your Princely Grace. Cornwall, although thy actions not deserve The least respect of us, in taking part With the aspiring Bastard, and the rest Of his adherents; yet we do omit All former injuries, and reunite Cornwall unto our love. Then Princes, join with Cornwall, and enthrone True honour and deserts; with what's her own. Ascend your Chair, fair Prince. Long live Caradoc, King of Wales. We thank you Princes. This being done, we'll see Our beauteous Queen and sister both set free. Now, Gloster, in this still and silent wood, Whose unfrequented paths do lead thy steps Unto the dismal cave of hellish fiends; With whom, a Witch, as ugly to confront, As are the fearful Furies she commands, lives in this solitary uncouth place; Begin thy damned plots, banish that threadbare thought Of Virtue, Which makes us men so senseless of our wrong, It makes us bear the poison of each tongue. No, Gloster, no; he, whose meek blood's so cool To bear all wrongs, is a religious fool: Or he that cannot finely knit revenge, Like to Aracne, in a curious web, May wounds still fit a Nightcap for his head. Since I am forced to fly with foul disgrace, And since of gods or men no hope I find, I'll use both hell and Fiends to ease my mind. Here dwells a famous Witch, who, with her son, As black in art, as art itself is black, Both memorable for their Magic skill, That can command stern vengeance from beneath The centre of the earth, for to appear As quick as thought. To her I'll tell the tale Of my revenge, and with the golden Chimes Of large rewards, enchant her hellish ears. And see: their monstrous shapes themselves appears. Thou famous Mistress of the unknown depths Of hell's infernal secrets, oh what reward Shall a dejected, miserable man, Chased from the confines of his native land, By wrong oppression, and insulting pride, Disgrace, contempt, and endless infamy, Give, for redress from thy commanding art?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Rise. Ile spare thy life. Reuenge sufficient for thy damned facts; For to a seared conscience these doe well, Long life, mens hate, and a perpetuall hell. Yet, that thou mayest liue, to attone thy soule Vnto the angry heauens, I freely giue The Kingdome of North-Wales for terme of life, To thy dispose; onely reseruing tribute to my selfe, In iust acknowledgement of me and mine. Know, Caradoc, since by the chance of war, I must be forst to render vp that right, That like a slaue I might haue kept by might, I scorne thy gifts, and rather chuse to liue In the vast wildernes with fatall Owles, Free from the malice of base buzzard Chaunce, And there in husht vp silence rauing goe; Then earth, except be hell, no place so low. Then with high almes, Ile to the Romanes, and there plot, pell mell. Vessels that once are seasoned, keepe their smell. Welshmen, farewell; and Caradoc adieu; Vnder the heauens, we haue no foe but you. Now Royall Prince, since happy victory Hath set a period to a bloudy fight, Cornewall, in humble manner, here presents Himselfe and seruice to your Princely Grace. Cornewall, although thy actions not deserue The least respect of vs, in taking part With the aspiring Bastard, and the rest Of his adherents; yet we doe omit All former iniuries, and reunite Cornewall vnto our loue. Then Princes, ioyne with Cornewall, and inthrone True honour and deserts; with what's her owne. Ascend your Chayre, fayre Prince. Long liue Caradoc, King of Wales. We thanke you Princes. This being done, weele see Our beautious Queene and sister both set free. Now, Gloster, in this still and silent wood, Whose vnfrequented pathes do lead thy steps Vnto the dismall caue of hellish fiends; With whom, a Witch, as vgly to confront, As are the fearefull Furies she commaunds, Liues in this solitary vncouth place; Begin thy damned plots, banish that thred-bare thought Of Vertue, Which makes vs men so senselesse of our wrong, It makes vs beare the poyson of each tongue. No, Gloster, no; he, whose meeke bloud's so coole To beare all wrongs, is a religious foole: Or he that cannot finely knit reuenge, Like to Aracne, in a curious web, May wounds still fit a Nightcap for his head. Since I am forst to flie with foule disgrace, And since of gods or men no hope I finde, Ile vse both hell and Fiends to ease my minde. Here dwels a famous Witch, who, with her sonne, As blacke in arte, as arte it selfe is blacke, Both memorable for their Magicke skill, That can command sterne vengeance from beneath The center of the earth, for to appeare As quicke as thought. To her Ile tell the tale Of my reuenge, and with the golden Chimes Of large rewards, inchaunt her hellish eares. And see: their monstrous shapes themselues appeares. Thou famous Mistresse of the vnknown depths Of hels infernall secrets, oh vvhat revvard Shall a deiected, miserable man, Chased from the confines of his natiue land, By vvrong oppression, and insulting pride, Disgrace, contempt, and endlesse infamy, Giue, for redresse from thy commanding arte?