The Courageous Turk, or Amurath the First · chunk 8 of 30
Goffe, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [Feb 24] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 439 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
An easy Medicine doth and sure will work, To rub shrewd wounds, make them but fester more, Fowl Medicines we worse brook, than a foul sore. Madam make haste hast! The King will be impatient If he be from you long. O Happiness. Why Menthe, than thou deemest us happy now Thus to command a world of services, To have a King my subject; and attended With these harmonious sounds t'affect our ears? Yes (truly Madam) 'tis a happiness. 'Tis, were't Eternal: but I fear a power A woman's power, doth but make sport with us; Why, were we not once Menthe, a Captive (Wretch?) Yes Lady! now your happiness the more: Riches please best, when there went want before. That power which raised us from so base, so high, Can throw us down again as suddenly: Me thinks my life is but a Player's Scene, In the last Act my part was then to play, A Captive creature, and a Queen to day. Your Morals (Madam) are too serious; Me thinks these Ornaments should elevate Your dumpish spirits. Think this Bed a place In which no Icy slipping chance hath power; A Kings safe Bed is like a guarded Tower. No (Menthe) no, 'tis not the Bed of state, Nor the free smile of a well pleased King: 'Tis not the embracing Arms of Emperors, N all the Gemmes that so inwreath the browes Can so allure Fortune unto their gaze, As she should still be constant; O she's blind, Nor doth she know herself where she is kind; Close, those are Kings, and Queens whose breast's secure Like brazen walls, Lust's entrance not endure! Where impotent ambition not intrudes, Nor the unstable talk of multitudes; Fortune serues such, they happiness command More than all Lybia's gold, all Tagus sand; As Heaven hath given us no more conspicuous thing Than form or beauty: so like a forward spring. Nothing more short. Madam, divine not of a change; Belief Is too too prone, in entertaining grief! Our Lord attends to enter in, And surely sleep envieth his delight, For he sits heavy on my drowsy lids, Draw all our Curtains; sleep beguiles our ears. (Madam) good night; time helps suspicious fears! Drop golden showers, gentle sleep, And all the Angels of the Night, Which do us in protection keep, Make this Queen dream of delight Morpheus be kind a little, and be Deaths now true Image, for 'twill prove To this poor Queen, that then thou art he; Her grave is made i'th' Bed of love: Thus with sweet sweets can Heaven mix gall, And marriage turn to Funeral.
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)
An easie Medicine doth and sure wil work, To rub shrewd wounds, make them but fester more, Foule Medicines we worse brook, than a foule sore. Madam make hast The King will be impatient If h be from you long. O Happinesse. Why Menthe, then thou deem'st us happy no Thus to command a world of services, To have a King my subject; and attended With these harmonious sounds t'affect our eares? Yes (truly Madam) 'tis a happinesse. 'Tis, were't Eternal: but I feare a powr A womans power, doth but make port with us; Why, were we not once Menthe, a Captive (Wretch?) Yes Lady▪ now your happinesse the more: Riches please best, when there wnt want before. That power which rais'd us from so base, so high, Can throw us downe againe as suddainly: Me thiks my life is but a Players Scaene, In the last Act my part was then to play, A Captive , nd a ueene to day. Your Morals (Madam) are too serious▪ Me thinks thee Ornaments should elevate Your dumpish spiits. Thinke this Bed a place In which no cie slipping chance hath power; A Kigs safe Bed is like a guarded Tower. No ( enthe) no, 'tis not the Bed of state, Nor the free smile of a well pleased King: 'Tis not the embracing Armes of Emperors, N all the Gemmes that so inwreath the browes Can so allure Fortune unto their gaze, As she should still be constant; O she's blind, Nor doth she know her selfe where she is kind; Close, those are Kings, and Queenes whose brest's secure Like brazen walles, Lust's entrance not endure! Where impotent ambition not intrudes, Nor the unstable talke of multitudes; Fotune sernes such, they happinesse command More than all gold, all Tagu sand; As Heaven hath given us no more conspicuous thing Than forme or beauty: so like a forward spring. Nothing more short. Madam, divine of a change; Beliefe Is too too proe, in entertaining griefe! Our Lord attends to enter in, And surely sleepe envyeth his deligt, For he sits heauy on my drowsie liddes, Draw all our Curtaies; sleepe beguiles our ears. (Madam) good night; time helpes suspitious feares! Drop golden showers, gentle sleepe, And all the Angels of the Night, Which doe us in protection keepe, Make this Queene dreame of delight Morpheus be kind a little, and be Deaths now true Image, for 'twill prove To this poore Queene, that then thou art hee; Her grave is made i'th Bed of love: Thus with sweet sweets can Heaven mixe gall, And marriage turne to Funerall.