The Courageous Turk, or Amurath the First · chunk 23 of 30
Goffe, Thomas · published 1632 · first performed or written 1619 [Feb 24] (Annals) tragedy · at University T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.75 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
True, and when sprouts do rob the tree of sap, They must be pruned, Dear Father, leave such harsh similitudes! By my deceased Mother, (to whose womb I was a ten months' burden:) By yourself, (To whom I was a pleasing Inant one) Pity my husband, and these tender Infants! Yes to have them collect a manly strength, And their first lesson that their Dad shall teach them Shall be to read my misery. Stern Conqueror: but that thy daughter shows, There once dwelt good in that obdurate breast, I would not spend a tear to soften thee! Thou seest my Countries turned into a Grave: My City's scar the Sun with fiereer flames, Which turn them into ashes! all myself So slicked and carved, that my amazed blood Knows not through which wound first to take its way; If not on me, have mercy on my Babes!— Which, with thy mercy thou mayst turn to Love. No sir, we must root out malicious seed: Nothing sprouts faster, than an envious weed! We see a little Bullock, amongst an heard (Whose horns are yet scarce crept from out his front) Grows on a sudden tall, and in the Fields, Frolicks so much, he makes his Father yield. A little twig left budding on an Elme (Ungratefully) bars his mother sight from Heaven! I love not future Aladins. Threat all a Conqueror can, canst threat but death, And I can die, but if thou wouldst have mercy!— O see you feet we're proved with this hands kiss! The higher those great powers have raised you, Press that which lies below with gentler weight: To pardon miseries is Fortune's height: Alas, these Infants, these weak sinewed hands Can be no terror to these Hector's arms! Beg (Infants) beg, and teach these tender joints To ask for mercy; learn your lisping tongues To give due accent to each syllable: Nothing that Fortune urgeth too, is base; Put from your thoughts all memory of descent: Forget the Princely titles of your fathers: If your own misery you can feel, Learn thus of me to weep, of me to kneel! Do (boys) and imitate your Parents tears, Which I (like Priam) shed, when he beheld, Hector thrice dragged about the Trojan Walls. He that burst open the gates of Erebus, And roused the yelling Monster from his Den, Was conquered with a tear! great Monarch learn, To know how dear a King doth weeping earn. Good Grandsire see, see how my father cries! Good mother take my napkin for your eyes! (Good father) hear, hear how thy daughter prays: Thou that knowst how to use stern Warrior's arms, Learn how to use mild Warriors pity too! Alas? can ere these ungrowne strengths repair Their Father's battered Cities? Or can these These o'erthrown Turrets? (Jconium) what small hopes Hast thou to lean upon? If these be all? Not half so mild hath our misfortune been That any can ere fear us: Be pleased—
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
True, and when sprouts do rob th tree of sap, They must be prun'd, Deare Father, leave such harsh similitudes▪ By my deceased Mother, (to whose wombe I was a ten months burden:) By your selfe, (To whom I was a pleasing Inant one) Pitty my husband, and these tender Infants! Yes to have them collect a manly strength, And their first lesson that their Dad hall teach them Shall be to read my misery. Sterne Conqueror: but that thy daughter shews, There nce dwlt good in that oburate brest, I would not pend a teare to soften thee! Thou seest my Countries turn'd into a Grave: My Cities carre the Sunne with fiereer flames, Which turne them into ashes! all my selfe So slickt and carved, that my amazed blood Knowes not through which wound first to take it's way; If not on me, have mercy on my Babes! — Which, with thy mercy thou mayst turne to Love. No sir, we must root out malitious seed: Nothing sproutes faster, then an envious weed! We see a little Bullocke, 'mongst an heard (Whose hores are yet scarce crept from out his front) Growes on a suddaine tall, and in the Fields, Frolicks so much, he makes his Father yeild. A little twig left budding on an lme (Vngratefully) barres his mother ight from Heaven! I love not Aladins. Threat all a Conquerour can, canst threat but death, And I can die, but if thou wouldst have mercy! — O see you feete we're prou'd with this hands kisse! The higher those great powers have rais'd you, Presse that which lyes below with gentler weigh ▪ To pardon miseries is Fortunes height: Alas, these Infants, these weake sinewed hands Can be no terror to these Hectors armes! Beg (Infants) beg, and teach these tender joynts To aske for mercy; learne your lisping tongues To giue due accent to each syllable: Nothing that Fortune urgeth too, is base; Put from your thoughts all memory of discent: Forget the Princely titles of your fathers: If your owne misery you can feele, Learne thus of me to weepe, of me to kneele▪ Doe (boyes) and imitate your Parents teaes▪ Which I (like ) shed, when he beheld, Hctor thrice dragg'd about the rojan Walles. He that burst ope the gates of Erebus, And rouz'd the yelling Monster from his Den, Was conquer'd with a teare! great Monarch learne, To know how deare a King doth weeping earne. Good Grandsire see, see how my father cries! Good mother take my napkin for your eyes! (Good father) heare, heare how thy daughter pryes: Thou that know'st how to use sterne Warriers armes, Learne how to use mild Warriers pitty too! Alas? can er these ungrowne strengths repaire Their Fathers batterd Cities? Or can these These orethrowne Turrets? (Jconium) what small hopes Hast thou to leane upon? If these be all? Not halfe so mild hath our misfortune beene That any can ere feare us: Be pleased —