Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.81 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Wilt bid me to dinner Pluto, ha, with what? Give me no snakes, ay, I go, I go, Up to Cithaerus' top, I hate thy meat. heavens! he's distracted, now doth fury right, When thus against herself, herself doth fight. 'Tis I man here, 'tis Pylades, not Pluto; Ha, Pylades, ay, they have banished him, But grandsire look to't, I'll tear out your maw, Pylades, Pylades I come— Why I am he, look friend, dost not know me. Yes, yes thou wert with me when I killed my mother And see, the Furies now would whip thee too, Allecto look, look, here's Allecto too, O Clytaemnestra, hay, how the lion skips, And Taurus he would toss me on his horns. Look on the Ram, see the Bear roars at me, And Charon he would fling me into Styx. He fears the heavenly signs, nay then now time Hath brought true punishment on every crime. Dash out the puppets brains, the little boy, The bastard, my mother's bastard: so blood, spin, My mother killed my Father, killed the King, But she got little by't, look on her breast It bleeds, it bleeds; so, so Aegisthus, so. O what a strange distemper stirs his brain, Thou gentle Somnus, in whom care doth rest, Kind father of cold death, and son of peace, Which comes to Kings and poor men all alike: Bind his disturbed brain, tie up his sense. Let him but live to die; now 'tis not long Before we both shall sing our funeral song. Ha, must I sink, can I not keep aloft? What is the stream so strong? why then I'll dive, And come to hell the sooner. So gentle sleep, Thou gatherest up his wandering brains again, This is but half dead, yet half dead he lies, But 'tis not long; before he wholly dies. Hark they play music; O these sounds do harm, Enticing woe with their melodious charm; These please not men in woe; these time do keep, But miseries best falling is to weep. Or stops are nought but sobs, our hearts we bring. Whereon we pricked the solfa which we sing. Weep, weep you Argonauts, Bewail the day That first to fatal Troy You took your way. Weep Greece, weep Greece, Two Kings are dead, Argos, thou Argos, now a grave Where Kings are buried. No heir, no heir is left, But one that's mad, See Argos, hast not thou, Cause to be sad? Sleep, sleep wild brain, Rest rock thy sense; Live if thou canst To grieve for thy offence. Weep, weep you Argonauts, &c. Peace Music, peace, our plaints have louder cries, A heart that's sad can never harmonise. Grief cannot keep his time, all time's too long, Sighs are best sembriefes to his doleful Song. My ditties mournful though thou sweetly play. Thus do we all even blow our lives away. But dost thou wake Orestes? is rest fled, Sleep ne'er dwells long in a molested head,
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wilt bid me to dinner Pluto, ha, with what? Giue me no snakes, I, I goe, I goe, Vp to Cythaerus top, I hate thy meate. Heauens! hee's distracted, now doth fury right, When thus against her selfe, her selfe doth fight. 'Tis I man here, 'tis Pylades, not Pluto; Ha, Pylades, I, they haue banisht him, But grandsire looke too't, I'll teare out your maw, Pylades, Pylades I come — Why I am hee, looke friend, dost not know me. Yes, yes thou wert with me when I kild my mother And see, the Furies now would whip thee too, Alecto looke, looke, here's Alecto too, O Clytemnestra, hay, how the lion skips, And Taurus he would tosse me on his hornes. Looke on the Ramme, see the Beare roares at me, And Charon he would fling me into Styx. He feares the heauenly signes, nay then now time Hath brought true punishment on euery crime. Dash out the puppets braines, the little boy, The bastard, my mothers bastard: so blood, spin, My mother kild my Father, kild the King, But she got little by't, looke on her brest It bleeds, it bleeds; so, so Aegystheus, so. O what a strange distemper stirs his braine, Thou gentle Somnus, in whom care doth rest, Kinde father of cold death, and son of peace, Which comes to Kings and poore men all alike: Binde his disturbed braine, tye vp his sense. Let him but liue to die; now tis not long Before we both shall sing our funerall song. Ha, must I sinke, can I not keepe a loft? What is the streame so strong? why then I'll diue, And come to hell the sooner. So gentle sleepe, Thou gather'st vp his wandring braines againe, This is but halfe dead, yet halfe dead he lies, But tis not long; before he wholly dies. Harke they play musike; O these sounds do harme, Enticing woe with their melodious charme; These please not men in woe; these time doe keepe, But miseries best falling is to weepe. Or stops are nought but sobs, our hearts we bring. Whereon we prickt the soulefa which we sing. Weepe, weepe you Argonauts, Bewaile the day That first to fatall Troy You tooke your way. Weepe Greece, weepe Greece, Two Kings are dead, Argos, thou Argos, now a graue Where Kings are buried. No heire, no heire is left, But one that's mad, See Argos, hast not thou, Cause to be sad? Sleepe, sleepe wild braine, Rest rocke thy sence; Liue if thou canst To grieue for thy offence. Weepe, weepe you Argonauts, &c. Peace Musique, peace, our plaints haue louder cries, A heart that's sad can neuer harmonize. Griefe cannot keepe his time, all time's too long, Sighs are best sembriefes to his dolefull Song. My ditties mournefull though thou sweetly play. Thus doe we all euen blow our liues away. But doest thou wake Orestes? is rest fled, Sleep ne're dwells long in a molested head,