The Valiant Welshman (Caradoc the Great) · chunk 31 of 32
A., R. · published 1615 · first performed or written 1612 [1610-1615] (Annals) history · Prince Henry's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.77 · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Then so we will, base Romans. Henceforth, in stead of honourable names, Succeeding times shall brand your slavish thoughts, With the black coals of treasons and defame. Princes, since now you know the worst of all, Let vengeance teach your valiant minds to mount Above a common pitch, inspire your souls With the remorseless thoughts of blood and death; And this day spit defiance in the face Of treacherous Rome, and think on this disgrace. Stay, Prince, and let me speak. Some Cannon shot ram up thy damned throat. Peace, hellhound, for thou singest a ravens note. Well met, thou Fiend of hell: by heaven I'll die, Or be revenged for all thy treachery. Weak Prince, first keep a diet for a time, To add fresh vigour to thy feeble limbs, And then, perhaps, we'll teach thee how to fight. Villain, the heavens have strength enough against Treason. Cad pless her. Cornewals, be Cad, you are as arrant a Knave, as any Proker in Longlanes. Hark you me, I'll fight with her for all her treasons and conjurations. Fare you well, Cousin Cornwall, I pray you commend us to Pluto's and Proserpina's, and tell all the Tevils of your affinity and acquaintance, I thank them for our Cousin Galled. Lay down that haggard Eagle, and submit Thy Roman Colours to the Britain's hands: Or by that mighty Mover of the Orb, That scourges Rome's Ambition with revenge, I'll pluck her haughty feathers from her back, And with her, bury thee in endless night. Know, Britain's, threats unto a Roman breast, Swell us with greater force, like fire suppressed▪ If thou wilt have her, win her with thy Arms. Thus, not in honour, but in foul disgrace, We wave the Roman Eagle spite of foes, Or all the puissant Army of proud Rome. Proud Welshman, redeliver up that Bird, Whose silver wings thou flutterest in the air; The varvels that she wears, belong to Rome, And Rome shall have, or I'll pawn my blood. Roman, behold, even in disgrace of this and thee, And all the factious rout of treacherous Rome, I'll keep this Eagle; win it if thou darest. Sound a Retreat. This day was bravely fought. Cornwall and Codigune, whose infectious breath Engendered noisome plagues of blood and death, With all the Roman host is put to flight. Thus by the hand of heaven, our peace is won, And all our foes sunk to confusion. Now famous Rome, that lately lay obscured In the dark clouds of British infamy, Appears victorious in her conquering Robes, And like the Sun, that in the midst of heaven Reflects more glory on the teeming earth: So fares it with triumphant Rome this day. Bring forth these British Captives: Let them kneel For mercy, and submit to Caesar's doom. What's he that scorns to bow, when Cesar bids?
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)
Then so we will, base Romanes. Henceforth, in stead of honourable names, Succeeding times shall brand your slauish thoughts, With the blacke coales of treasons and defame. Princes, since now you know the worst of all, Let vengeance teach your valiant minds to mount Aboue a common pitch, inspire your soules With the remorselesse thoughts of bloud and death; And this day spit defyance in the face Of trecherous Rome, and thinke on this disgrace. Stay, Prince, and let me speake. Some Cannon shot ramme vp thy damned throat. Peace, hell-hound, for thou singst a Rauens note. Well met, thou Fiend of hell: by heauen Ile die, Or be reuenged for all thy trechery. Weake Prince, first keepe a dyet for a time, To adde fresh vigour to thy feeble limmes, And then, perhaps, weele teach thee how to fight. Villayne, the heauens haue strength inough against Treason. Cad plesse her. Cornewals, be Cad, you are as arrant a Knaue, as any Proker in Longlanes. Harke you me, Ile fight with her for all her treasons and coniurations. Fare you well, Cousin Cornewall, I pray you commend vs to Plutoes and Proserpines, and tell all the Teuils of your affinity and acquaintance, I thanke them for our Cousin Gald. Lay downe that haggard Eagle, and submit Thy Romane Colours to the Bryttaines hands: Or by that mighty Mouer of the Orbe, That scourges Romes Ambition with reuenge, Ile plucke her haughty feathers from her backe, And with her, bury thee in endlesse night. Know, Bryttaines, threats vnto a Romane brest, Swell vs with greater force, like fire supprest▪ If thou wilt haue her, winne her with thy Armes. Thus, not in honour, but in foule disgrace, We waue the Romane Eagle spight of foes, Or all the puissant Army of proud Rome. Proud Welshman, redeliuer vp that Bird, Whose siluer wings thou flutterest in the ayre; The Veruels that she weares, belong to Rome, And Rome shall haue, or Ile pawne my bloud. Romane, behold, euen in disgrace of this and thee, And all the factious rout of trecherous Rome, Ile keepe this Eagle; winne it if thou darest. Sound a Retreat. This day was brauely fought. Cornewall and Codigune, vvhose infectious breath Ingendred noysome plagues of bloud and death, With all the Romane hoste is put to flight. Thus by the hand of heauen, our peace is vvonne, And all our foes sunke to confusion. Novv famous Rome, that lately lay obscurde In the darke cloudes of Bryttish infamy, Appeares victorious in her conquering Robes, And like the Sunne, that in the midst of heauen Reflects more glory on the teeming earth: So fares it with triumphant Rome this day. Bring forth these Bryttish Captiues: Let them kneele For mercy, and submit to Cesars doome. What's he that scornes to bow, when Cesar bids?