The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 25 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Damned Cornwall, mayst thou sink to hell for this, Wracked by the Furies on Ixion's wheel, And whipped with steel for this accursed treason. Yield thee, proud Welshman, or we'll force thee yield. Art thou a Roman, and canst speak that language, The mother tongue of fugitives and slaves? No, Romans: spare these two; and if I fly, The Roman host shall bear me company. Come, Lady, you must go along with vs. Even where you will, if Caradoc survive, My dying soul and joys are yet alive. Fashion thyself, thou great and glorious light, To my disguise, and mask thy sub till sight, That peeps through every cranny of the world; Put on thy nightgown of black foggy clouds, And hide thy searching eye from my disgrace. Oh Cornwall, Cornwall, this thy treacherous act, That hath eclipsed the glory of great Wales, Shall to succeeding ages tell thy shame, And honour sound, to hear of Cornewals name. The gods with forked thunder strike thy wrong, And men in shameful Ballads sing thy fact, That basely thus hast recompensed thy King. But curses are like arrows shot upright. That often times on our own heads do light: And many times ourselves in rage prove worst. The Fox ne'er better thrives, but when accursed. This is a time for policy to move, And lackey with discretion, and not rage. My thoughts must now be suited to my shoot; And common patience must attend the helm, And steer my reason to the Cape of hope. At York the noble Prince Venusius dwells, That bears no small affection to ourself, To him I'll write a letter, whose contents Shall certify th'affairs concern myself, Which I myself in this disguise will bear, And sound the depth of his affection, Which if but like a friend, he lend his hand, I'll chase the Romans from this famous land. Dear Bluso, thus far have my weary steps, Through passages, as craggy as the Alps, Silent and unknown ways, as intricate, As are the windings of a Labyrinth, Searched out the uncouth Cell of thy abode. The Roman host have seized my beauteous wife, And with the rude and ruggy hand of force, As Paris kept bright Helen from the Greekes, Denying ransom, more like Cannibals Then honourable Romans, keep her still. And never more shall Galled enjoy the sight Of his soul's flourishing object, till thy skill, Exceeding human possibilities, Work her enlargement, and my happiness. Fair Prince, I were ingrateful unto him, That next to heaven, preserved, and gave me life: And more, by solemn oath I am obliged, In forfeit of my soul, and hope of bliss, To use the skill I have, to virtuous ends; Amongst the which, this is the capital. Then doubt not, Prince, but ere this night be spent, She shall be free, and you shall rest content.
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)
Damned Cornewall, mayst thou sinke to hell for this, Wrackt by the Furies on Ixions wheele, And whipt with steele for this accursed treason. Yeeld thee, proud Welshman, or weele force thee yeelde. Art thou a Romane, and canst speake that language, The mother tongue of fugitiues and slaues? No, Romanes: spare these two; and if I flie, The Romane hoste shall beare me company. Come, Lady, you must goe along with vs. Euen where you will, if Caradoc suruiue, My dying soule and ioyes are yet aliue. Fashion thy selfe, thou great and glorious light, To my disguise, and maske thy sub till sight, That peepes through euery cranny of the world; Put on thy night-gowne of blacke foggy cloudes, And hide thy searching eye from my disgrace. Oh Cornewall, Cornewall, this thy trecherous act, That hath eclips'd the glory of great Wales, Shall to succeeding ages tell thy shame, And honour sound, to heare of Cornewals name. The gods with forked thunder strike thy wrong, And men in shamefull Ballads sing thy fact, That basely thus hast recompenst thy King. But curses are like arrowes shot vpright. That often times on our owne heads do light: And many times our selues in rage proue worst. The Foxe ne're better thriues, but vvhen accurst. This is a time for policy to moue, And lackey vvith discretion, and not rage. My thoughts must now be suted to my shute; And common patience must attend the helme, And stere my reason to the Cape of hope. At Yorke the noble Prince Venusius dwels, That beares no small affection to our selfe, To him Ile write a letter, whose contents Shall certifie th'affaires concerne my selfe, Which I my selfe in this disguyse will beare, And sound the depth of his affection, Which if but like a friend, he lend his hand, Ile chase the Romanes from this famous land. Deare Bluso, thus farre haue my weary steps, Through passages, as craggy as the Alpes, Silent and vnknowne wayes, as intricate, As are the windings of a Laborynth, Search't out the vncouth Cell of thy abode. The Romane hoste haue seizd my beautious wife, And with the rude and ruggy hand of force, As Paris kept bright Hellen from the Greekes, Denying ransome, more like Canibals Then honourable Romanes, keepe her still. And neuer more shall Gald inioy the sight Of his soules flourishing obiect, till thy skill, Exceeding humane possibilities, Worke her inlargement, and my happinesse. Fayre Prince, I were ingratefull vnto him, That next to heauen, preserued, and gaue me life: And more, by solemne othe I am obliged, In forfet of my soule, and hope of blisse, To vse the skill I haue, to vertuous ends; Amongst the which, this is the capitall. Then doubt not, Prince, but ere this night be spent, She shall be free, and you shall rest content.