Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.72 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Like my mother, O most execrable Hadst ranked the confused Chaos of all sins, Thou couldst not have found out a fault more black, More stinking, more infectious to my heart, Art like my mother, O transcendent crime! Some say I'm eyed like her, but in the face I do resemble most the King my father. Poor babe. The King thy father, yes, too like them both, Electra says I'm somewhat like Orestes, Her brother that is dead. How, like Orestes! when didst see him child. Indeed I never saw him, but I love him. Alas, dear friend, see the pretty knave. Would thou wert not my mothers, I could weep, But see, O see now my relenting heart, Must now grow flinty, see my Father, see, Now to show pity were Impiety. Why flags revenge? see thy now yielding soul, Made me burst ope my strong jawed sepulchre, And rip the cerecloth from my wounded breast, O can a child smile blank the memory, Of all these horrid wounds, which make me groan, In the dark caverns of the uncouth earth, From whence I come for to infect thy soul With air of vengeance, may make Acheron, Yea, and ourselves at the performance quake; Fruit of our loins, first vigour of our youth, Look on these wounds, as on the Gorgon's head, And turn thy heart to stone, hovering revenge Is fall'n into thy hands, O grasp her close By her snake knotted front, and make her do Things may incite a horror to herself. Forget all, mother, in that disloyal witch, Whose damned heat raging in strumpet's blood, So soon did condescend to murder me. By all the rites of Father, I conjure thee: By Atreus, Atreus, he whose revengeful soul Is echoed through the world superlative; Do thou make Nemesis as great a feast, And be enthronised in her fiery chair, In her triumphant chariot ever ride, In which, Bears hurry her from the womb of hell, And bear this Title as thy deserved hire, The brave revenger of thy murdered sire. Think on me, and revenge. Stay, stay, and see't, Stay Spright, thou strik'st no terror to my soul For unamazed I now would dare outlook Ranks of Medusa's, and the grim aspect Of the most frowning object hell affords: Think on me, and revenge: yes, those two words Shall serve as burden unto all my acts, I will revenge, and then I'll think on thee: I'll think on thee, and then again revenge, And stab, and wound, and still I'll think on thee. I have a dropsy now to suck up fumes, And drink the reaking streams of vengeance some: Great Agamemnon's Ghost, I will bedew, Thy hearse with blood instead of brinish tears, And build a pile up of their murdered trunks, To burn thy marrow less consumed bones. Arrows of forked lightning never flew, More swiftly from the awful arms of Ioue, Than Nemesis black Scorpions from me.
nodes 1638–1702 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 27 of 38 in this edition
Length
495 words · 692 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.723 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Like my mother, O most execrable Hadst rank'd the confus'd Chaos of all sins, Thou couldst not haue found out a fault more blacke, More stincking, more infectious to my heart, Art like my mother, O transcendent crime! Some say I'me eyde like her, but in the face I doe resemble most the King my father. Poore babe. The King thy father, yes, too like them both, Electra saies I'me somewhat like Orestes, Her brother that is dead. How, like Orestes! when didst see him child. Indeed I neuer saw him, but I loue him. Alas, deare friend, see the pretty knaue. Would thou wert not my mothers, I could weepe▪ But see, O see now my relenting heart, Must now grow flinty, see my Father, see, Now to shew pitty were Impiety. Why flaggs reuenge? see thy now yeelding soule, Made me burst ope my strong iawd sepulcher, And rip the feare-cloth from my wounded breast, O can a child smile blanke the memory, Of all these horrid wounds, which make me grone, In the darke cauerns of the vncoucht earth, From whence I come for to infect thy soule With ayre of vengeance, may make Acheron, Yea, and our selues at the performance quake; Fruite of our loynts, first vigor of our youth, Looke on these wounds, as on the Gorgons head, And turne thy heart to stone, houering reuenge Is falne into thy hands, O graspe her close By her snake knotted front, and make her doe Things may incite a horror to her selfe. Forget all, mother, in that disloyall witch, Whose damned heate raging in strumpets blood, So soone did condiscend to murder mee. By all the rites of Father, I coniure thee: By Atreus, Atreus, he whose reuengefull soule Is eccho'd through the world superlatiue; Doe thou make Nemesis as great a feast, And be enthroniz'd in her firie chaire, In her triumphant chariot euer ride, In which, Beares hurry her from the wombe of hell, And beare this Title as thy deserued hire, The braue reuenger of thy murdred sire. Thinke on me, and reuenge. Stay, stay, and see't, Stay Spright, thou strik'st no terror to my soule For vnamaz'd I now would dare out-looke Ranks of Medusa's, and the grim aspect Of the most frowning obiect hell affoords: Thinke on me, and reuenge: yes, those two words Shall serue as burthen vnto all my acts, I will reuenge, and then I'll thinke on thee: I'll thinke on thee, and then againe reuenge, And stab, and wound, and still I'll thinke on thee. I haue a dropsie now to sucke vp fumes, And drinke the reaking streames of vengeance some: Great Agamemnons Ghost, I will be dew, Thy hearse with blood in steed of brinish teares, And build a pile vp of their murthred truncks, To burne thy marrow lesse consumed bones. Arrowes of forked lightning neuer flew, More swiftly from the awfull armes of Ioue, Then Nemesis blacke Scorpions from mee.