Gomersall, Robert · published 1633 · first performed or written 1628 [1622-1628] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T10 England and France: war, embassy and pea · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T10: france, french, england, king, lord, english, edward, talbot, peace, lords.
I fear our Climacterical is now: When all professions turn to soldier, To that cursed Art that thrives by Destiny. The scythes are straighted into swords▪ and th' Earth Being not wounded is undone, where once Stood buildings, which an humble Poetry Without too bold a swelling might give Kings: Whole Mines undone to beautify one roof, Now only Desolation dwells: weak grief, To say Corn grows, where once a City stood, That sustenance is there where no men are, This is a trifling, and half misery: Our Lands now only furnish us with Graves, Can hide us, but not feed us; we would think Our Cities standing, though the buildings fell, If we had no grief, but Fertility. But on what strength does Sforza still subsist Against so powerful foes? The Emperor Has sold him some few Almains, but his hopes Chiefly depend upon the valiant Swizzes, Who were the chief in his depression. Has his gross brain not learned the danger yet Of bringing strangers into Italy? He called the French to Naples, who have now Found Milan too: O what's the difference Betwixt a mercenary and a foe, But that we kill one for his outrages, And hire the other? Iuliano, I May feel misfortune, but will never buy. THe French are mighty, and portentously Rise by their fall: strong shame begets a rage, And a disdain, that you whom they expelled Should hazard their expulsion, makes them hazard, What ere being ventured, adds a fame to Man, And gives a glory to his misery. They are so far from the base fear of death, That they embraced, and like those fiercer curs, That spend their anger on the senseless stone Not daring to attempt on him that threw, They with a senseless anger break the darts That nail them to the Earth, as if they scorned Their killer should survive them: other lets, As heat, or hunger are their exercise: That one would think they'd lost all part of man When they did mean to show the best: my Lord, I wish a swift, but love a certain conquest: I think 'twere wisdom to protract the fight. know, I know thou speak'st what thou thinkst best: but 'tis wisdom to delay on equal fame: But when a foe has won opinion, Which draws all eyes, and hearts to him, O then A valiant desperation fits a man: For victory is not impossible, And honour necessary: my best friend, Call forth our Swizzers, and if happy swords Though few, may cut a way to glory, come: The purchase is above the pains: but here Come they that shall fill histories: brave friends Now is the time we shall employ your swords, And teach the world your valour. You may fail: 'Tis better to be wise: Sforza, I'm come To take my leave of you, nor shall much breath Be spent in ceremonial compliment, I am the French Kings soldier.
seed 43: T8 · seed 44: T8 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I feare our Climactericall is now: When all professions turne to souldier, To that curst Art that thrives by Destiny. The sithes are straighted into swords▪ and th' Earth Being not wounded is undone, where once Stood buildings, which an humble Poetry VVithout too bold a swelling might give Kings: VVhole Mines undone to beautifie one roofe, Now onely Desolation dwels: weake griefe, To say Corne growes, where once a City stood, That sustenance is there where no men are, This is a trifling, and halfe misery: Our Lands now onely furnish us with Graves, Can hide us, but not feed us; we would thinke Our Cities standing, though the buildings fell, If we had no griefe, but Fertility. But on what strength does Sforza still subsist Against so powerfull foes? The Emperor Has sold him some few Almaines, but his hopes Chiefly depend upon the valiant Swizze, VVho were the chiefe in his depression. Has his grosse braine not learnt the danger yet Of bringing strangers into Italy? He call'd the French to Naples, who have now Found Millan too: O what's the difference Betwixt a mercenary and a foe, But that we kill one for his outrages, And hyre the other? Iuliano, I May feele misfortune, but will never buy. THe French are mighty, and portentously Rise by their fall: strong shame begets a rage, And a disdaine, that you whom they expell'd Should hazard their expulsiō, makes them hazard, What ere being ventur'd, addes a fame to Man, And gives a glory to his misery. They are so farre from the base feare of death, That they embrac't, and like those fiercer curres, That spend their anger on the senselesse stone Not daring to attempt on him that threw, They with a senselesse anger breake the darts That naile them to the Earth, as if they scorn'd Their killer should survive them: other lets, As heat, or hunger are their exercise: That one would thinke they'd lost all part of man When they did meane to shew the best: my Lord, I wish a swift, but love a certaine conquest: I thinke twere wisdōe to protract the fight. know, I know thou speakst what thou thinkst best: but Tis wisedome to delay on equall fame: But when a foe has wonne opinion, Which drawes all eyes, and hearts to him, O then A valiant desperation fits a man: For victory is not impossible, And honour necessary: my best friend, Call forth our Swizzers, and if happy swords Though few, may cut a way to glory, come: The purchase is above the pains: but here Come they that shall fill histories: brave friends Now is the time we shall imploy your swords, And teach the world your valour. You may faile: 'Tis better to be wise: Sforza, I'm come To take my leave of you, nor shall much breath Be spent in ceremoniall complement, I am the French Kings souldier.