Heywood, Thomas · published 1615 · first performed or written 1594 (Annals) romance · Worcester's Men · Red Bull T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so typicality 0.69 · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
From England, the best brood of martial spirits, Whose walls the Ocean washeth white as snow, For which you strangers call it Albion: From France, a Nation both renowned and feared, From Scotland, Wales, even to the Irish Coast, Beyond the pillars great Alcides reared, At Gades in Spaine vnto the Pyr H, Have we assembled men of dauntless spirits, To scourge you hence ye damned Infidels. Within our troops are sturdy bands of Moores, Of Babylonians, Persians, Bactrians, Of Grecians, Russians, of Tartarians, Turks, Even from the floods that grow from Paradise Unto this place where the Brook Kedron runs. Within our Troops are English, French, Scotch, Dutch, Italians of Prince Tancred's regiment. even from the Seas that wall in Albion, As far as any River or Brook runs, That Christians drinks on, have we people here, To make our streets red with your Christian blood. To drown you slaves in a vermilion flood. To burn your bodies o'er your prophet's grave. To lead your Emperor Captive like a slave. To make your guide trot by my chariot wheel. To lash your armour with these rods of steel. Then to extirp you all, ye Persian powers, Assist our courage, make the conquest ours. God match thy might with theirs, protect us to; To let this people know what thou canst do. A charge, a charge, rail drums, and Cannons roar, Christians, at home your friends abroad deplore. Christians at home abroad our conquests fame; Thou God of Hosts this day make known thy name. Oh God, that multitude should more than manhood, That we should thus be borne down with a press, Be thronged and shouldered from the place we keep! For every man we lead, the foe hath ten, Their weapons tops appear above their heads, In as thick number as the spikes of grain Upon a well-tiled land: they have more lives, Than all our tired arms could send to death, If they should yield their bare breasts to our swords. What should we do? we are encompassed round, Girded with thousand thousands in a ring. And like a man left on a dangerous rock, That waits the climbing tide rise to destroy him: What way so e'er he looks, sees nought but death: So we; the bloody tide grows up apace, Whose waves will swallow us and all our race. Where's Guy and Eustace? Gone to scale a Tower In which our father lies: Oh I did see them Cut down a wood of men upon the sudden. Their swords cut lances, as a scythe cuts grass: Their valour seems to me miraculous. Thou Saviour of the world, whose Cross we bear, Infuse our hearts with courage, theirs with fear. A Zion, a Zion. A Ierusalem. A father, and in him a Crown of joy. A Zion, a Ierusalem, a father.
seed 43: T18 · seed 44: T18 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
From England, the best brood of martiall spirits, Whose wals the Ocean washeth white as snow, For which you srangers call it Albion: From France, a Nation both renown'd and fear'd, From Scotland, Wales, euen to the Irish Coast, Beyond the pillars great Alcides rear'd, At Gades in Spaine vnto the Pyr H, Haue we assembled men of dauntlesse spirits, To scourge you hence ye damned Infidels. Within our troupes are sturdy bands of Moores, Of Babylonians, Persians, Bactrians, Of Grecians, Russians, of Tartarians, Turkes, Euen from the flouds that grow from Paradise Vnto this place where the Brooke Kedron runnes. Within our Troupes are English, French, Scotch, Dutch, Italians of Prince Tancred's Regement. Euen from the Seas that wall in Albion, As farre as any Riuer or Brooke runnes, That Christian on, haue we people here, To make our streetes red with your Christian bloud. To drowne you slaues in a vermillion floud. To burne your bodies o're your Prophets graue. To lead your Emperour Captiue like a slaue. To make your guide trot by my chariot wheele. To lash your armour with these rods of seele. Then to rpe you all, ye Persian powers, Assist our courage, make the conquest ours. God match thy might with theirs, protect vs to; To let this people know what thou canst do. A charge, a charge, raile drummes, and Cannons rore, Christians, at home your friends abroad deplore. Christians at home abroad our conquests fame; Thou God of Hosts this day make knowne thy name. Oh God, that multitude should more then manhood, That we should thus be borne downe with a presse, Be throng'd and shouldered from the place we keepe! For euery man we leade, the foe hath ten, Their weapons tops appeare aboue their heads, In as thicke number as the spikes of graine Vpon a well-til'd land: they haue more liues, Then all our tired armes could send to death, If they should yeld their bare brests to our swords. What should we do? we are encompast round, Girded with thousand thousands in a ring. And like a man left on a dangerous rocke, That waites the climbing tide rise to destroy him: What way so e'e he lookes, sees nought but death: So we; the bloudy tide growes vp apace, Whose waues will swallow vs and all our race. Where's Guy and Eustace? Gone to scale a Tower In which our father lies: Oh I did see them Cut downe a wood of men vpon the suddaine. Their swords cut lances, as a sithe cuts grasse: Their valour seemes to me miraculous. Thou Sauiour of the world, whose Crosse we beare, Infuse our hearts with courage, theirs with feare. A Syon, a Syon. A Ierusalem. A father, and in him a Crowne of ioy. A Syon, a Ierusalem, a father.