The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 39 of 51
Goffe, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1618 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 516 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Less show, and more good meaning Selimus. Arise: these crouching feats, give slender proofs Of inward loyalty. Right noble Father, Mine expedition to avenge your cause Upon the head of proud Achomates, Be my just trial. Hast then: May thy arm By breathless treason raise up a full joy, And turn that monster back unto the earth From whence it leapt, a most prodigious birth. We fly to the performance; who both dare And will correct his boldness: now we tread The path to honour, and me thinks I hear The people's Viva, a Echo in mine ear. New insolence: The Bassas slipped away, How the obsequious villains As if he were their Godhead. I suspect Some plotted mischief, else they durst not leave Your person thus unguarded. Plot and hang. We weigh not all their treasons at a straw, One must not rule too long, 'tis subject's law. Long live Selymus, Vivat Selimus, Magnificent Emperor of the Turks. Hell and the furies vex their damned souls. What people? Ha? what Nation is't we live in? Is't our State and Monarchy? good gods Two Emperors at once. Live Selimus? Can slavish vassals thus supplant their Prince? What's this enshrines my head? a type for fools To fleare at a divided ornament: Fail not my sense and courage, let me live To find myself again. Viceroy of Greece, Didst thou not see a Bajazet withdraw And vanish hence? tell thou most faithful man, What is become of that forgetful name? Or who hath stole it from me? Selimus! Oh that damned villain with his treacherous plot, Hath robbed me of that glory. Death a sense If t'have a soul of Adamant or Steel, Else had that hated noise reft it in twain: What are thou? or whence comest thou? From a Prince. Yet I believe thee. From thine enemy. Yet I believe thee. From the Emperor. And I believe thee still; yet slave thou liest, These parts must know no Emperor but me, unless base usurpation hath stept-up Unto my chair of honour. Right, 'tis so: 'Tis so indeed. Well then, what will your Emperor? That by my hand you yield him up his crown! Traitor his crown? so: now I am resolved. I have forgone myself, else had this hand Tore out thy spotted heart, and that one word Of yielding had been cause enough to spoil Thee and thy generation. Heartless slave, Why sneakest thou from our presence? stay, behold Here I commend this gorgeous ornament, These trappings to thy Emperor, as full Bestead with curses as my heart with woes, That it may clog his ears, and vex his head With daily terrors. Hence thy Prince is sped. Viceroy of Greece, to thee our last farewell, Thou worthiest truest best deserving man, That ever made us happy: if thy faith Respect me, not my fortune, Do this charge, Fly to Achomates, and rather aid Him then this faithless Bastard Selimus, The scandal of our race, the mark for heaven To shoot revenge. But all in vain, I strive to word away my inward pain.
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)
Lesse shew, and more good meaning Selymus. Arise: these crouching feates, giue slender proofes Of inward loyalty. Right noble Father, Mine expedition to auenge your cause Vpon the head of proud Achomates, Be my iust triall. Hast then: May thy arme By breathlesse treason raise vp a full ioy, And turne that monster back vnto the earth From whence it leapt, a most prodigious birth. VVe flie to the performance; who both dare And will correct his boldnesse: now we tread The path to honour, and me thinkes I heare The peoples Viua, Eccho in mine eare. New insolence: The Bassaes slipt away, How the obsequious villaines As if he were their Godhead. I suspect Some plotted mischiefe, else they durst not leaue Your person thus vnguarded. Plot and hang. We weigh not all their treasons at a straw, One must not rule too long, 'tis subiects law. Long liue Slymus, Viuat Selymus, Magnificent Emperour of the Turkes. Hell and the furies vex their damned soules. What people? Hah? what Nation is't we liue in? Is't our State and Monarchy? good gods Two Emperours at once. Liue Selymus? Can slauish vassailes thus supplant their Prince? What's this enshrines my head? a type for fooles To fleare at a diuided ornament: Faile not my sense and courage, let me liue To finde my selfe againe. Vize-roy of Greece, Didst thou not see a Baiazet withdraw And vanish hence? tell thou most faithfull man, What is become of that forgetfull name? Or who hath stole it from me? Selymus! Oh that damn'd villaine with his treacherous plot, Hath rob'd me of that glory. Death a sense If t'haue a soule of Adamant or Steele, Else had that hated nise reft it in twaine: What are thou? or whence com'st thou? From a Prince. Yet I beleeue thee. From thine enemie. Yet I beleeue thee. From the Emperour. And I beleeue thee still; yet slaue thou liest, These parts must know no Emperour but me, Vnlese base vsurpation hath stept-vp Vnto my chaire of honour. Right, 'tis so: 'Tis so indeede. Well then, what will your Emperour? That by my hand you yeeld him vp his crowne! Traytor his crowne? so: now I am resolu'd. I haue forgone my selfe, else had this hand Tore out thy spotted heart, and that one word Of yeelding had beene cause enough to spoyle Thee and thy generation. Heartlesse slaue, Why sneak'st thou from our presence? stay, behold Here I commend this gorgeous ornament, These trappings to thy Emperour, as full Bestead with curses as my heart with woes, That it may clogge his eares, and vex his head With daily terrours. Hence thy Prince is sped. Vize-roy of Greece, to thee our last farewell, Thou worthiest truest best deseruing man, That euer made vs happy: if thy faith Respect me, not my fortune, Doe this charge, Fly to Achomates, and rather ayde Him then this faithlesse Bastard Selymus, The scandall of our race, the marke for heauen To shoote reuenge. But all in vaine, I striue to word away my inward paine.