Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1603 [1603-1604] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
The General of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. Sir it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet we'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, To th' extreme edge of hazard. Then go thou forth, And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm As thy auspicious mistress. This very day Great Mars I put myself into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. Alas! and would you take the letter of her: Might you not know she would do, as she has done, By sending me a Letter. Read it again. I am S. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Writ, writ, that from the bloody course of war, My dearest Master your dear son, may high, Bless him at home in peace. Whilst I from far, His name with zealous fervour sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive: I his despiteful Iuno sent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. He is too good and fair for death, and me, Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. Ah what sharp stings are in her mildest words? Rynaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Pardon me Madam, If I had given you this at overnight, She might have been o'erta'en: and yet she writes Pursuit would be but vain. What Angel shall Bless this unworthy husband, he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to bear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Writ, writ Rynaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife, Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger, When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return, and hope I may that she Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense To make distinction: provide this Messenger: My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak, Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. Nay come, For if they do approach the City, We shall lose all the sight. They say, the French Count has done Most honourable service. It is reported, That he has taken their great'st Commander, And that with his own hand he slew The Duke's brother: we have lost our labour, They are gone a contrary ways hark, you may know by their Trumpets.
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)
The Generall of our horſe thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our beſt loue and credence Vpon thy promiſing fortune▪ Sir it is A charge too heauy for my ſtrength, but yet Wee'l ſtriue to beare it for your worthy ſake, To th' extreme edge of hazard. Then go thou forh, And fortune play vpon thy proſperous helme As thy auſpicious miſtris. This very day Great Mars I put my ſelfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I ſhall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue. Alas! and would you take the letter of her: Might you not know ſhe would do, as ſhe has done, By ſending me a Letter. Reade it agen. I am S. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious loue hath ſo in me offended, That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon With ſainted vow my faults to haue amended. Write, write, that from the bloodie courſe of warre, My deereſt Maſter your deare ſonne, may hie, Bleſſe him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre, His name with zealous feruour ſanctifie: His taken labours bid him me forgiue: I his deſpightfull Iuno ſent him forth, From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue, Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth. He is too good and faire for death, and mee, Whom I my ſelfe embrace, to ſet him free. Ah what ſharpe ſtings are in her mildeſt words? Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice ſo much, As letting her paſſe ſo: had I ſpoke with her, I could haue well diuerted her intents, Which thus ſhe hath preuented. Pardon me Madam, If I had giuen you this at ouer-night, She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet ſhe writes Purſuite would be but vaine. What Angell ſhall Bleſſe this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue, Vnleſſe her prayers, whom heauen delights to beare And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath Of greateſt Iuſtice. Write, write Rynaldo, To this vnworthy husband of his wife, Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth, That he does waigh too light: my greateſt greefe, Though little he do feele it, ſet downe ſharpely. Diſpatch the moſt conuenient meſſenger, When haply he ſhall heare that ſhe is gone, He will returne, and hope I may that ſhee Hearing ſo much, will ſpeede her foote againe, Led hither by pure loue: which of them both Is deereſt to me, I haue no skill in ſence To make diſtinction: prouide this Meſſenger: My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake, Greefe would haue teares, and ſorrow bids me ſpeake. Nay come, For if they do approach the Citty, We ſhall looſe all the ſight. They ſay, the French Count has done Moſt honourable ſeruice. It is reported, That he has taken their great'ſt Commander, And that with his owne hand he ſlew The Dukes brother: we haue loſt our labour, They are gone a contrarie way harke, you may know by their Trumpets.