The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 20 of 51
Goffe, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1618 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.86 · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Let me march hence, and Bajazet shall know, How little I befriend my Prince's foe, I'll cast a ring of soldiers round 〈◊〉 The walls of Rome, if Zemes scape thence out, Cut of my breath: he that's deep in blame, Must hazard boldly to regain his fame. What means our father, noble Bajazet, To work untimely horrors through the world, Desolate ruin, public discontent Have printed deep impressions in our path, Danger and fear scare emptied from our town, The shaken members of our common wealth, Yet staggers with their wounds, when discord shall Make but a second breach, they faint and fall. Short peace hath charmed your subjects all asleep, And thrown a quiet slumber o'er their eyes, Whilst with a sweet restorative she heals Their Martyred joints, and wipeth out their scars Writ on their bosoms by the hand of wars, Zemes is safely cloistered up at Rome, The prelate dares not aid him, all the gods Smile on the entrance of triumphant peace, War lies fast bound, nor can she work our pains Unless we lose the fury from her chains. Our sons instruct us? must your pregnant wits, Cross my command? Bassaes prepare for war, And since your grave discourse argues a will, To stay at home▪ you shall; we'll lay you up, Where no loud echoing drums shall break your sleep, Even in the bowels of your mother earth I will entomb you: Put them both to death. What means great Bajazet? To murder you, unless you strangle them. But hear us speak. Stop up the damned passage of their throat, Or you are all but ghosts. what; stare you friends? Isaac and Selimus, a garter; Twist me that fatal string about his neck, And either pull and an end, Mesithes come join force with me, by 〈◊〉 y' best make haste, Or thou art shorter lived than is that bratte. Tug strongly at it. So; let the bastard drop, We have out-liud our tutors: dunghill slaves, Durst they breathe out their Stoic sentences In opposition of our strict command? So: things run well along, and now I find Ioue hears my prayers, and the gods grow kind. Did not I send these to their provinces To hinder Zemes' flight? and did not they Dejected bastards give him open way? Mine anger hath been just. None doth deny't; You may proceed in your edict for wars, And make Achmetes general of the camp. It is enough: Achmetes go to hell, The devils have rung out thy passing bell, And look for thine arrival. Shend me slaves. They fly before my breath like mists of air, And are of less resistance, I'll pursue. Oh! I am slain, Tyrant thy violent hand, Hath done me pleasure, though against thy will, Had I as many lives as drops of blood, I'd not outlive this hour: fly hence vain soul, Climb yonder sacred mount, strive upwards, there, There where a guard of stars shall hem thee round, Build thee a safe tribunal— I am gone— Oh tragic cruelty— behold— the end Of two right Noble sons— one faithful friend
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)
Let me march hence, and Baiazet shall know, How little I befriend my Princes foe, Ile cast a ring of souldiers round The walles of Rome, if Zemes scape thence out, Cut of my breath: he that's deepe in blame, Must hazard boldly to regaine his fame. What meanes our father, noble Baiazet, To worke vntimely horrors through the world, Desolate ruine, publike discontent Haue printed deepe impressions in our path, Danger and feare scare emptied from our towne, The shaken members of our common wealth, Yet staggers with their wounds, when discord shall Make but a second breach, they faint and fall. Short peace hath charm'd your subiects all asleepe, And throwne a quiet slumber ore their eyes, Whilest with a sweete restoratiue she heales Their Matyr'd joynts, and wipeth out their scarres Writ on their bosomes by the hand of warres, Zemes is safely cloystred vp at Rome, The prelate dares not ayde hm, all the gods Smile on the entrance of triumphant peace, War lies fast bound, nor can she worke our paines Vnlesse we loose the fury from her chaines. Our sonnes instruct vs? must your pregnant wits, Crosse my command? Bassae prepare for warre, An since your graue discourse argues a will, To stay at home▪ you shall; weele lay you vp, Where no loud ecchoing drums shall breake your leepe, Euen in the bowels of your mother earth I will intombe you: Put them both to death. What meanes great Baiazet? To murder you, vnlesse you strangle them. But heare vs speake. Stop vp the damned passage of their throat, Or you are all but ghosts. what; stare you friends? Isaacke and Selymus, a garter; Twist me that fatall string about his necke, And either pull and an end, Mesithes come Ioyne force with me, by were best make hast, Or thou art shorter liu'd then is that bratte. Tugge strongly at it. So; let the bastard droppe, We haue out-liud our tutors: dunghill slues, Durst they breath out their Stoicke entences In opposition of our strickt command? So: things run well along, and now I find Ioe heares my prayers, and the gods grow kind. Did not I send these to their Provinees To hinder Zemes flight? and did not they Dejected bastards giue him open way? Mine anger hath beene just. None doth deny't; You may proceed in your edict for warres, And make Achmetes generall of the campe. It is enough: Achmetes goe to hell, The deuils haue rung out thy passing bell, And looke for thine arrivall. Shend me slaues. They fly before my breath like mists of ayre, And are of lesse resistance, Ile pursue. Oh! I am slaine, Tyrant thy violent hand, Hath done me pleasure, though against thy will, Had I as many liues as drops of blood, I'de not outliue this houre: flye hence vaine soule, Climbe yonder acred mount, striue vpwards, there, There where a guard of starres shall hemme thee round, Build thee a safe tribunall—I am gone— Oh tragique cruelty—behold—the end Of two right Noble sonnes—one faithfull friend