Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.73 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
HOw now? what ails our son, how now Orestes! O some are come now to help me grieve, See, see mother, see, your husband and my Father, The King of Greece, great shepherd of his Land See, see him here: O help now good heaven to keep my sex Let me dissemble. Help my Lords the Queen. O why let you not my soul, that whilst he lived, Was linked to his, and would too now have fled With winged desire to have been with him, What do I live for, Agamemnon slain, My Lord, my King, my Husband, wake my Lord, What bloody Trojan followed thee from thence To kill thee here, could he not one night Have let me rested in thy sweet embraces? Must he for sureness make so many holes For thy sweet soul to fly to be a God? O let my tears be balm to these thy wounds, Let my lips kiss, and warm thy gelid lips, Let my hair wipe these clots of blood away From thy age-honoured side: O dry your tears, join knees and prayers with me, awake ye Gods, And send our vows, since we can send no wounds: Come son, we women still know how to curse, Let him that did it be an Adulterer; Faith she begins well, sure she knows the man: Let him be conscious he hath done a deed Deserves revenge, whether it fall or no; Let him for ever bear in mind this night, And who 'twas helped him in this bloody act. Yes, he'll remember how you curse him now, If ever he have children let them be Murdered before his face, that he may know How nature binds a father and a son, Now hands I thank you, now my soul: grows glad, Had not he grieved thus, I had lost revenge. But come my son, now let us talk of graves, Of Epitaphs, and tombs, and's soul being fled, Let's lap his Trunk up in a sheet of lead. methinks I see a Tragedy at hand, To which this night hath as a Prologue been; I'll make a prayer now worthy Atreus' grandchild, Let the foul Adder sting me as I walk, The poisonous toad belch her black venom forth In my despised face, let it be thought I never had a father, but some monster Bred by a slimy exhalation; If my revenge fly not with ample wing, Till then rest soul, hate told may lose his sting. O Ye dead Trojans leap within your graves, O mother that thou hadst lived this night, Now thou'dst be glad to have lost so many sons, The Grecians are revenged upon themselves, I thank thee soul, that thou keptst here till now To let me see Greece overcome itself; I live, I live, I'm here, I live to see't: I do not dream on't, no, I saw the blood
nodes 318–375 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 6 of 38 in this edition
Length
487 words · 633 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.731 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
HOw now? what ayles our sonne, how now Orestes! O some are come now to helpe me greiue, See, see mother, see, your husband and my Father, The King of Greece, great shepheard of his Land See, see him here: O helpe now good heauen to keepe my sexe Let me dissemble. Help my Lords the Queen. O why let you not my soule, that whilst he liu'd, Was linkt to his, and would too now haue fled With wing'd desire to haue beene with him, What doe I liue for, Agamemnon slaine, My Lord, my King, my Husband, wake my Lord, What bloody Troian followed thee from thence To kill thee here, could he not one night Haue let me rested in thy sweet embraces? Must he for surenesse make so many holes For thy sweet soule to flye to be a God? O let my teares be balme to these thy wounds, Let my lips kisse, and warme thy gelid lips, Let my haire wipe these clots of blood away From thy age-honor'd side: O dry your teares, Ioyne knees and prayers with mee, awake ye Gods, And send our vows, since we can send no wounds: Come son, we women still know how to curse, Let him that did it be an Adulterer; Faith she begins well, sure she knows the man: Let him be conscious he hath done a deed Deserues reuenge, whether it fall or no; Let him for euer beare in minde this night, And who 'twas helpt him in this bloody act. Yes, hee'll remember how you curse him now, If euer he haue children let them be Murdered before his face, that he may know How nature bindes a father and a sonne, Now hands I thanke you, now my soule: grows glad, Had not he greiu'd thus, I had lost reuenge. But come my sonne, now let vs talke of graues, Of Epitaphs, and tombs, and's soule being fled, Let's lap his Trunke vp in a sheet of lead. Me thinks I see a Tragedy at hand, To which this night hath as a Prologue bin; I'll make a prayer now worthy Atreus grandchilde, Let the foule Adder sting me as I walke, The poysonous toad belch her blacke venom forth▪ In my despised face, let it be thought I neuer had a father, but some monster Bred by a slimy exhalation; If my reuenge fly not with ample wing, Till then rest soule, hate told may lose his sting. O Ye dead Troians leape within your graues, O mother that thou hadst liu'd this night, Now thou'ldst be glad to haue lost so many sons, The Grecians are reueng'd vpon themselues, I thanke thee soule, that thou keptst here till now To let me see Greece ouercome it selfe; I liue, I liue, I'm here, I liue to see't: I doe not dreame on't, no, I saw the blood