Preston, Thomas · published 1570 · first performed or written 1561 [c.1558-1569] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Not, not, my Lord, it is not so, for this of Prince they tell: For virtuous proof and Princely facts, Cirus he doth excel. By that his grace by conquest great, the Egyptians did convince Of him report abroad doth pass, to be a worthy Prince. In person of Croesus I answer make, we may not his grace compare in whole respect for to be like, Cirus the king's father. In so much your grace hath yet no child, as Cirus left behind Even you I mean, Cambyses king, in whom I favour find. Croesus' said well in saying so, but Praxaspes tell me why: That to my mouth in such a sort, thou should avouch a lie. Of drunkenness me thus to charge, but thou with speed shalt see Whether that I a sober King, or else a drunkard be. I know thou haste a blissful babe, wherein thou dost delight: Me to revenge of these thy words, I will go wreak this spite. When I the most have tasted wine, my Bow it shallbe bend At heart of him even then to shoot, is now my whole intent. And if that I his heart can hit, the King no drunkard is: It heart of his I do not kill, I yield to thee in this. Therefore Praxaspes fetch to me, thy yungest son with speed: There is no way I tell thee plain, but I will do this deed. Redoubted Prince spare my sweet Child, he is mine only joy: I trust your grace to Infant's heart, no such thing will employ. If that his mother hear of this, she is so nigh her flight: In clay her corpse will soon be shrined, to pass from world's delight Not more ado, go fetch me him, it shallbe as I say: And if that I do speak the word, how dare ye once say nay? I will go fetch him to your grace, but so I trust it shall not be: For fear of my displeasure great, go fetch him unto me. Is he gone? now by the Gods I will do as I say: My Lord therefore fill me some wine, I heartily you pray. For I must drink to make my brain somewhat intoxicate: When that the wine is in my head, o trimly I can prate. Here is the cup with filled wine, thereof to take repast: Give it me to drink it of, and see no wine be waste. Once again in large this Cup, for I must taste it still: By the Gods I think of pleasant wine, I cannot take my fill. Now drink is in give me my bow, and arrows from sir Knight At heart of Child I mean to shoot, hoping to cleave it right. Behold (O King) where he doth come, his infant young in hand
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)
No, no, my Lord, it is not ſo, for this of Prince they tel: For vertuous proof and Princely facts, Cirus he dooth excel. By that his grace by conqueſt great, the Egiptians did cōuince Of him reporte abrode dooth paſſe, tobe a worthy Prince. In perſō of Creſus I anſwer make, we may not his grace compare in whole reſpect for to be like, Cirus the kings father. In ſo much your grace hath yet no childe, as Cirus left behinde Euen you I meane, Cambiſes king, in whome I fauour finde. Creſus ſaid wel in ſaying ſo, but Praxaſpes tel me why: That to my mouth in ſuch a ſort, thou ſhould auouch a lye. Of drunkennes me thus to charge, but thou with ſpéed ſhalt ſée Whether that I a ſober King, or els a drunkard bée. I knowe thou haſte a bliſful babe, wherin thou dooſt delight: Me to reuenge of theſe thy woords, I wil go wreke this ſpight. When I the moſte haue taſted wine, my Bowe it ſhalbe bent At hart of him euen then to ſhoot, is now my whole intent. And if that I his hart can hit, the King no drunkard is: It hart of his I doo not kil, I yéeld to thée in this. Therfore Praxaſpes fetch to me, thy yungeſt ſonne with ſpéed: There is no way I tel thee plain, but I wil doo this déed. Redouted Prince ſpare my ſweet Childe, he is mine only ioy: I truſt your grace to Infants hart, no ſuch thing wil imploy. If that his mother hear of this, ſhe is ſo nigh her flight: In clay her corps wil ſoon be ſhrinde, to paſſe frō worlds delight No more adoo, go fetch me him, it ſhalbe as I ſay: And if that I doo ſpeak the woord, how dare ye once ſay nay? I wil go fetch him to your grace, but ſo I truſt it ſhall not be: For feare of my diſpleaſure great, go fetch him vnto me. Is he gone? now by the Gods I wil doo as I ſay: My Lord therfore fil me ſome wine, I hartely you pray. For I muſt drink to make my brain ſomwhat intoxicate: When that the wine is in my hed, oh trimly I can prate. Héere is the cup with filled wine, therof to take repaſte: Giue it me to drink it of, and ſée no wine be waſte. Once again in large this Cup, for I muſt taſte it ſtil: By the Gods I think of pleaſant wine, I cannot take my fil. Now drink is in giue me my bowe, and arrowes frō ſir Knight At hart of Childe I meane to ſhoot, hoping to cleue it right. Beholde (O King) wher he dooth come, his infant yung in hand