Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 453 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I see my Lord Orestes, and his friend, Without your leave have made themselves an end. Then now is Argos Court like to some stage, When the sad plot fills it with murdered Trunks, And none are left alive but only one, To ask the kind spectators (plaudite) All else have bid (valete) to the world, The man reserved for that, is Tyndarus, Who thus hath seen his children's children's end, His Grandchild, a bad son, a most dear friend; The Scene must now be overflowed with groans, Each man sits down to wail his private moans: One for the Queen doth weep, one for the King, All taste the bitter waters of this Spring: The Nurse bewails the child, that part she bears, All have their subjects to bedew with tears; Each one yet have but one; but all of me, Challenge a part in griefs sad sympathy. Orestes, Clytaemnestra, I must call, These all for mine, thus must I weep for all: Let none believe this deed, or if they do. Let them believe this punishment then too. 'Tis vile to hate a Father, but such love, As breeds a hate toth' mother, worse doth prove: Our life consists of air, our state of wind, All things we leave behind us which we find, Saving our faults; witness Orestes here, Who was his own tormentor, his own fear. Who flying all, yet could not fly himself, But needs must shipwreck upon murder's shelf: And so his breast made hard with misery, He grew himself to be his enemy. Thus grief and gladness still by turns do come, But pleasure leastwhile doth possess the room. Long nights of grief may last, but lo, one day Of shining comfort slideth soon away. He, whom all fear on earth, must fear a fate, For all our powers are subordinate: Three hours' space thus well can represent, Vices contrived and murders punishment. A monarch's life can in this little space Show all the pomp that all the time doth grace His risings and his falls, and in one span Of time, can show the vanity of man. For none of us can so command the powers That we may say, tomorrow shall be ours. Now Fortune's wheel is turned, and time doth call, To solemnize this friendly funeral. No force so great, no so disaster wrong, As can unknit the bands which holdeth strong United hearts: who since they thus are dead, One room, one tomb shall hold them buried: And as these friends joined hands to bear their Fate; So we desire you to imitate. Who since they all are dead, we needs must crave Your gentle hands to bring them to their grave.
nodes 2307–2362 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 38 of 38 in this edition
Length
453 words · 591 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.756 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I see my Lord Orestes, and his friend, Without your leaue haue made themselues an end. Then now is Argos Court like to some stage, When the sad plot fills it with murdred Trunckes, And none are left aliue but onely one, To aske the kinde spectators (plaudite) All else haue bid (valete) to the world, The man reseru'd for that, is Tyndarus, Who thus hath seen his childrens childrens end, His Grandchild, a bad sonne, a most deare friend; The Scene must now be ouerflow'd with grones, Each man sits downe to waile his priuate mones: One for the Queen doth weep, one for the King, All taste the bitter waters of this Spring: The Nurse bewails the child, that part she beares, All haue their subiects to bedew with teares; Each one yet haue but one; but all of mee, Challenge a part in griefes sad sympathy. Orestes, Clytemnstra, I must call, These all for mine, thus must I weepe for all: Let none belieue this deed, or if they doe. Let them belieue this punishment then too. 'Tis vile to hate a Father, but such loue, As breeds a hate to'th mother, worse doth proue: Our life consists of ayre, our state of winde, All things we leaue behind vs which wee find, Sauing our faults; witnesse Orestes here, VVho was his owne tormentor, his owne feare. VVho flying all, yet could not fly him selfe, But needs must shipwrack vpon murders shelfe: And so his brest made hard with miserie, He grew himselfe to be his enemy. Thus griefe and gladnesse still by turnes do come, But pleasure leastwhile doth possesse the roome. Long nights of griefe may last, but lo, one day Of shining comfort slideth soone away. He, whom all feare on earth, must feare a fate, For all our powers are subordinate: Three howres space thus well can represent, Vices contriu'd and murders punishment. A Monarchs life can in this little space Shew all the pompe that all the time doth grace His risings and his falls, and in one span Of time, can shew the vanity of man. For none of vs can so command the powers That we may say, to morrow shall be ours. Now Fortunes wheele is turn'd, and time doth call, To solemnize this friendly funerall. No force so great, no so disaster wrong, As can vnknit the bands which holdeth strong Vnited hearts: who since they thus are dead, One roome, one tombe shall hold them buried: And as these friends ioyn'd hands to beare their Fate; So we desire you to imitate. VVho since they all are dead, we needs must craue Your gentle hands to bring them to their graue.