Markham, Gervase / Sampson, William · published 1622 · first performed or written 1622 [c.1619-1622] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Time's eldest Daughter (Truth) presents our Play; And, from forgotten Monuments of Clay, Calls up th'heroic Spirits of old Times, Famed then as well for Virtues as black Crimes; And with Her own Tongue, and own Phrase, to tell The Actions they have done; or ill, or well. JOSEPHUS th'ancient Writer, with a Pen Lent by the Muses, gives new life to Men; Who breathed such Tragic Accents forth toth' Ear Of Hebrew Armies, which you now shall hear; Please you to sit attentive: Wit hath run In a Zodaical Circle, like the Sun, Through all Invention; which is grown so poor She can show nought, but what has been before: Yet Reverend History, which upon the Stage Hath oft been heard speak; hopes, even for Her Age, Your strong hands will support Her; She must live Now by no heat, but what your beams do give: To gain which (though Her scenes seem grave and high) She here and there with a loose wing doth fly; Striving to make you merry: No other bays She reaches at, but this; your Loves, your Praise. O My thrice Princely Son; thou hast forgot That Time's our Master, and we can dispose But merely of the instant. Madam true: Nor have I lost a moment; yet I know, No diligence appears to those, whose hearts Do both desire and wait. Enough, enough; Come let's away, my heart is winged with haste That outflies thought or motion; Egypt (sweet) Hath safety in it, not Ierusalem. I do confess it; yet this dangerous way Of our escape, hath many fears about it. There's pregnant reason for it, and our lives Are marks that Herod shoots at: Who but sees The woeful state of sad Ierusalem, And how this Tyrant (like an angry Boar) Roots up the goodly Pines should cover him? Hath he not slain Antigonus, destroyed Thy Father and thy Grandsire: (O my Lords, My dear loved Lords, my Father and my Husband;) Worthy Hircanus, noble Alexander; And at this instant lies he not in wait For our destructions? Beldame that I am To prate at such a season; (holy Sweet) Come let's away, our flight is so secure, No Art can undermine it; any pause Opens our graves before us: fly, O fly. I do attend your Highness. Hark, I hear The steps of some pursues us; prithee come, Let Egypt and not Iuda be our Tomb. Is this the diligence your duty shows, To run this slothful pace? By all I love, You're worthy of blame in high terms. Princely Antipater You're too improvident, and this neglect Will draw your life in hazard; understand, theyare lions and not Lambs you cope withal: The Mother-Queen is subtile, and her Son Of high and noble spirit; should they scape, You fix a Ram to batter down the life Both of the King and Kingdom.
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)
Tlmes eldest Daughter (Truth) presents our Play; And, from forgotten Monuments of Clay, Cals vp th'Heroicke Spirits of old Times, Fam'd then as well for Vertues as blacke Crimes; And with Her owne Tongue, and owne Phrase, to tell The Actions they haue done; or ill, or well. IOSEPHVS th'ancient Writer, with a Pen Lent by the Muses, giues new life to Men; Who breath'd such Tragicke Accents forth toth' Eare Of Hebrew Armies, which you now shall heare; Please you to sit attentiue: Wit hath runne In a Zodaicall Circle, like the Sunne, Through all Inuention; which is growne so poore Shee can shew nought, but what has beene before: Yet Reuerend History, which vpon the Stage Hath oft beene heard spake; hopes, euen for Her Age, Your strong hands will support Her; Shee must liue Now by no heate, but what your beames doe giue: To gaine which (though Her Scoenes seeme graue and hie) Shee heere and there with a loose wing doth flye; Striuing to make you merry: No other Bayes She reaches at, but this; your Loues, your Praise. O My thrice Princely Sonne; thou hast forgot That Time's our Maister, and wee can dispo But meerely of the instant. Madam true: Nor haue I lost a moment; yet I know, No diligence appeares to those, whose hearts Doe both desire and waite. Enough, enough; Come let's away, my heart is wing'd with haste That out-flies thought or motion; Aegypt (sweete) Hath safety in it, not Ierusalem. I doe confesse it; yet this dangerous way Of our escape, hath many feares about it. There's pregnant reason for it, and our liues Are markes that Herod shoots at: Who but sees The wofull state of sad Ierusalem, And how this Tyrant (like an angry Boare) Roots vp the goodly Pines should couer him? Hath he not slaine Antigonus, destroyd Thy Father and thy Grandsire: (O my Lords, My deare lou'd Lords, my Father and my Husband;) Worthy Hircanus, noble Alexander; And at this instant lies hee not in waite For our destructions? Beldame that I am To prate at such a season; (holy Sweete) Come let's away, our flight is so secure, No Art can vndermine it; any pause Opens our graues before vs: flye, O flye. I doe attend your Highnesse. Harke, I heare The steps of some pursues vs; prethee come, Let Aegypt and not Iuda be our Tombe. Is this the diligence your duty shewes, To runne this slothfull pace? By all I loue, Y'are worthy of blame in high termes. Princely Antipater Y'are too improuident, and this neglect Will draw your life in hazard; vnderstand, Th'are Lyons and not Lambs you cope withall: The Mother-Queene is sbtile, and her Sonne Of high and noble spirit; should they scape, You fixe a Ramme to batter downe the life Both of the King and Kingdome.