The Courageous Turk, or Amurath the First · chunk 20 of 30
Goffe, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [Feb 24] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 461 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Alas my Lord that needs not, every day Is a sufficient helper to decay: Great workman, who art sparing in thy strength To bring things to perfection, and to o'erturn All thy best works, thou usest sudden force, When man's an Embrio! and first conceived How long 'tis ere he see his native light? Then borne, with expectation for his growth! Tenderly nourished, carefully brought up, Grown to perfection, what a little thing, Serves to call on his sudden ruining? Come Cobelitz,▪ 'mongst those demolished stones We'll sit as Hecuba, at those Troyan Walls: Our tears shall be false glasses to our eyes: Through these we'll look, and think we yet may see Our stately Pinnacles, and strong founded holds; That which one hour can dilapidate, One age can scarce repair. No sir, for nothing's hard To Nature, when she means t'consume A thousand Oaks (which time hath fixed i'th' earth, As Monuments of lasting memory) Are in a moment turned to ashes all; Things that rise slowly, take a sudden fall. What course now Cobelitz, must we still be yoke▪ To misery, and murder? We scarce have room, Upon our bodies to receive more wounds, And must we still oppose ourselves to more? Yes! We are ready still; a solid mind Must not be shaked with every blast of Wind! Pollux, nor Hercules, had none other art, To get them Mansions in the spangled Heavens Then a true firm resolve; th' Adriatic Sea, Shall from his currents with tempestuous blasts, Be sooner heard, than virtue from its aim, Let us but think (when we so many see, Enjoying greater quiet than ourselves.) How many have endured more misery; Ilium, Ilium, what a fate hadst thou? How fruitful wert thou in matter for thy foe? Thus we'll delude our grief, make ourself glad, To think of miseries that others had. I (Captain) ay! they that furnished thee With sentences of comfort, never saw, Their Cities burnt, their Countries desolate! 'Tis easy for Physicians for to tell Advice to others, when themselves are well! Tush, tush (my Lord) there's on our side we know, One that can both, and will our weak hands guide, One that will strike and thunder; Giant then, Look for a dart! we must not appoint when; Mean while help for to convey this burden hence Turk, though thy tyranny deny us graves, Corruption will give them spite of thee! Nor do our corpse, such Tombs and Caverns need: For our own flesh, still our own graves to breed: And, when the Earth receiveth not, when they die; Heaven's Vault overwhelmeth them, so their tombe's i'th' sky. Besieged on every side? Iconium taken? Entrenched within my foes myself must lie Wrapped in my City's ruin! Turks come on!
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)
Alas my Lord that needs not, every day Is a sufficient heper to decay: Great workman, who art sparing in thy strength To bring things to perfectio, a to oretrne All thy best wokes, thou usest suddaine force, When mans a Erio! and first coneived How long 'tis ere he see his native light? Then borne, with expectation for his growth! Tenderly nourisht, carefully brought up, Growne to prfection, what a little thing, Serves to call on his suddaine ruining? Come Cobelitz, ▪mongst those demolisht stons We'll sit as Hecub, at those Troyn Walles: Our teares shall be false glasses to our eyes: Through these we'l looke, and thinke we yet may see Our stately Pinacles, and strong founded holds; That which one houre can delapidate, One age can scarce repaire. No sir, for nothing's hard To Nature, when she meanes t'consume A thousand Oakes (which time hath fixt i'th earth, As Monuments of lasting memory) Are in a moment turn'd to ashes all; Things that rise lowly, take a suddaine fall. What course now Cobelitz, must we still be yoak▪ To misery, and murder? We scarce have roome, Vpon our bodies to receive more wounds, And must we still oppose our selves to more? Yes! We are ready still; a solid minde Must not be shakt with every blast of Winde! Pollux, nor Hercules, had none other art, To get them Mansions in the spangl'd Heavens Then a true firme resolve; th' Ariatike Sea, Shall from his currents with tempestuous blasts, Be sooner heard, than vertue from it's ayme, Let us but thinke (when we so many see, Enjoying greater quiet than our selves.) How many have endur'd more misery; Ilion, Ilion, what a fate hadst thou? How fruitfull wert thou in matter for thy foe? Thus we'll delude our griefe, make our selfe glad, To think of miseries that others had. I (Captaine) I! they that furnisht thee With sentences of comfort, never saw, Their Cities burnt, their Cuntries desolate! 'Tis easie for Physitians for to tell Advice to others, when themselves are well! Tush, tush (my Lord) there's on our side we know, One that can both, and will our weake hands gide, One that will strike and thunder; Gyant then, Looke for a dart! we must not appoint when; Meane while helpe for to convay this burden henc Turke, though thy tyranny deny us graves, Corruption will give them spite of thee! Nor doe our corps, such Tombes and Cavernes need: For our owne flesh, still our owne graves to breed: And, when the Earth receiveth not, when they die; Heavens Vault ouerwhelmeth them, so their tombe's ith' skie. Besieged on every side? Iconim taken? Entrencht within my foes my selfe must lye Wrapt in my Cities ruine! Turkes come on!