Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
O piety! O most prodigious nature! What creatures hast thou made to live on earth? How hast thou clothed black darkness with a scarf Of unstained purity, and put a godly face Upon portentous devils? Oh, how my mother wept! How Clytaemnestra! how that hyena wept! No more my mother, I abjure the name, She did not bring me forth, I know she did not: But I'll o'ertake 'em; show me Canidia where, Which way they went, where have they hid themselves. Should they mount up to the chariot of the Sun, And in his Car fly to the Antipodes, Or in the farthest nook of yonder sphere: Get up and place themselves betwixt Taurus horns, The fire-breathing bull, nor Lerna's Hydra, Were there no entrance but ten lions jaws, I'd run through all, and make my way myself: I'd fix them to the axle tree of heaven, Where their infectious Carcases should hang, A bait for flying spirits in the Air. Canidia, I thank thee for thy pains; Still may thy sacred Act reveal such deeds, Still keep the gates of Orcus yawning open, Make the dark powers ready at command. But let us haste dear friend, this vast world's room Allows us none, but thy dead father's Tomb: Here's nought but airs of death, no bed but stones Our pillow's a dead scull, companions bones, this's all our comfort, if we needs must die, We have a grave prepared wherein to lie. Now pale Tisiphone, O for thy Snakes! O that renowned spirit, that more than man, Whom all the Trojan host could not o'erwhelm, Murdered; but what brave warrior wore a crown, By guilding a dire sword in his dear blood? Hector, nor Priam, no, nor Mars himself, Only his wife was his Bellona now. O miserable valour, to scape foes, And come for to be murdered of his friends: O shameful conquest! O most coward Fate, That a weak woman was competitor In Agamemnon's death: had it been any, yet It should have been a Goddess at the least, And yet she's but a Queen, a mortal woman. Were she a Goddess, I would make he mortal; Dull coward that I am, and, worse than all, After so many wrongs, yet unrevenged, Their Palace now should fire o'er their heads, And the huge beams dash out their guilty brains: The roof, should fall on me, so't fell on them. Begin revenge, and now perform an act, May give a theme to all posterity, Ever to talk of, fraught so full of horror, Aegisthus and my mother, may with theirs, Yet none was ever greater, yes, my deed. Revenge is lost, unless we do exceed. But a bad mother, friend, thou shouldst not hurt, The law of nature doth forbid such thoughts. Nor Gods, nor nature shall keep me in awe, Why towards my mother, by heaven's Parliament, Who is most guilty, is most innocent.
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)
O piety! O most prodigious nature! What creatures hast thou made to liue on earth? How hast thou cloath'd blacke darknesse with a scarfe Of vnstain'd purity, and put a godly face Vpon portentuous diuells? Oh, how my mother wept! How Clitemnestra! how that Hiena wept! No more my mother, I abiure the name, She did not bring me forth, I know she did not: But I'll o'rtake 'em; shew mee Canidia where, Which way they went, where haue they hid themselues. Should they mount vp to the chariot of the Sunne, And in his Carre fly to the Antipodes, Or in the farthest nooke of yonder spheare: Get vp and place themselues betwixt Taurus hornes, The fire-breathing bull, nor Lerna's Hydra, Were there no entrance but ten Lyons iawes, I'd runne through all, and make my way my selfe: I'd fix them to the Axell tree of heauen, Where their infectious Carcasses shauld hang, Abait for flying spirits in the Ayre. Canidia, I thanke thee for thy paines; Still may thy sacred Act reueale such deeds, Still keepe the gates of Orcus yawning ope, Make the darke powers ready at command. But let vs haste deare friend, this vast worlds roome▪ Allowes vs none, but thy dead fathers Tombe: Here's naught but ayres of death, no bed but stones Our pillow's a dead scull, companions bones, Thi's all our comfort, if wee needs must die, We haue a graue prepar'd wherein to lie. Now pale Tisiphone, O for thy Snakes! O that renonw'ned spirit, that more then man, Whom all the Troian host could not o'rwhelme, Murdred; but what braue warrier wore a crown, By guilding a dire sword in his deare blood? Hector, nor Priam, no, nor Mars himselfe, Onely his wife was his Bellona now. O miserable valour, to scape foes, And come for to be murdred of his friends: O shamefull conquest! O most coward Fate, That a weake woman was competitor In Agamemnons death: had it beene any, yet It should haue beene a Goddesse at the least, And yet snee's but a Queene, a mortall woman. Were she a Goddesse, I would make he mortall; Dull coward that I am, and, worse then all, After so many wrongs, yet vnreueng'd, Their Palace now should fire o'r their heads, And the huge beams dash out their guilty brains: The roofe, should fall on me, so't fell on them. Begin reuenge, and now performe an act, May giue a theame to all posterity, Euer to talke of, fraught so full of horrour, Aegystheus and my mother, may with their's, Yet none was euer greater, yes, my deed. Reuenge is lost, vnlesse we doe exceed. But a bad mother, friend, thou shouldst not hurt, The law of nature doth forbid such thoughts. Nor Gods, nor nature shall keepe mee inawe, Why towards my mother, by heauens Parliament, Who is most guilty, is most innocent.