Herbert, Mary Sidney / Garnier, RobertSidney Herbert, Mary · published 1595 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) tragedy T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.73 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
proud that on them their grave so many legions have. And without fleshes still Neptune his fishes fill and drunk with blood from blue the sea take blushing hue: as juice of Tyrian shell, when clarified well to wool of finest fields a purple gloss it yields. But since the rule of Rome, to one man's hand is come, who governs without mate her now united state, late jointly ruled by three envying mutually, whose triple yoke much woe on Latins necks did throw: I hope the cause of jar, and of this bloody war, and deadly discord gone by what we last have done: our banks shall cherish now the branchy pale-hewed bow of Olive, Pallas praise, in stead of barren bay. And that his temple door, which bloody Mars before held open, now at last old Ianus shall make fast: and rust the sword consume, and spoiled of waving plume, The useless morion shall on crook hang by the wall. At least if war return It shall not here sojourn, to kill us with those arms were forged for others' harms: but have their points addressed, against the Germans breast, The Parthians feigned flight, the Biscayne's martial might. Old Memory doth there painted on forehead wear our Father's praise: thence torn our triumphs bay have worn: thereby our matchless Rome whilom of Shepherds come raised to this greatness stands, the Queen of foreign lands. Which now even seems to face the heavens, her glory's place: nought resting under skies that dares affront her eyes. So that she needs but fear the weapons Ioue doth bear, who angry at one blow may her quite overthrow. O cruel fortune! o accursed lot! O plaguy love! o most detested brand! O wretched joys! o beauties miserable! O deadly state! o deadly royalty! O hateful life! o Queen most lamentable! O Antony by my fault buriable! O hellish work of heaven! alas! the wrath Of all the Gods at once on us is fallen. Unhappy Queen! o would I in this world The wandering light of day had never seen? Alas! of mine the plague and poison I The crown have lost my ancestors me left, This Realm I have to strangers subject made, And robbed my children of their heritage. Yet this is nought (alas!) unto the price Of you dear husband, whom my snares entrapped: Of you, whom I have plagued, whom I have made With bloody hand a guest of mouldy tomb: Of you, whom I destroyed, of you, dear Lord, Whom I of Empire, honour, life have spoiled. O hurtful woman! and can I yet live, Yet longer live in this Ghost-haunted tomb? Can I yet breath! can yet in such annoy, Yet can my soul within this body dwell? O Sisters you that spin the threads of death! O Styx! o Phlegethon! you brooks of hell! O Imps of Night!
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
proud that on them their graue so many legious haue. And with out fleshes still Neptune his fishes fill and dronke with bloud from blue the sea take blushing hue: as iuice of Tyrian shell, when clarified well to wolle of finest fields a purple glosse it yeeldes. But since the rule of Rome, to one mans hand is come, who gouernes without mate hir now vnited state, late iointly rulde by three enuieng mutuallie, whose triple yoke much woe on Latines necks did throwe: I hope the cause of iarre, and of this bloudie warre, and deadly discord gone by what we last haue done: our banks shall cherish now the branchie pale-hew'd bow of Oliue, Pallas praise, in stede of barraine baies. And that his temple dore, which bloudy Mars before held open, now at last olde Ianus shall make fast: and rust the sword consume, and spoild of wauing plume, The vseles morion shall on crooke hang by the wall. At least if warre returne It shall not here soiourne, to kill vs with those armes were forg'd for others harmes: but haue their points addrest, against the Germaines brest, The Parthians fayned flight, the Biscaines martiall might. Olde Memory doth there painted on forehead weare our Fathers praise: thence torne our triumphs baies haue worne: therby our matchles Rome whilome of Shepeheards come rais'd to this greatnes stands, the Queene of forraine lands. Which now euen seemes to face the heau'ns, her glories place: nought resting vnder skies that dares affront her eies. So that she needes but feare the weapons Ioue doth beare, who angry at one blowe may her quite ouerthrowe. O cruell fortune! ô accursed lot! O plaguy loue! ô most detested brand! O wretched ioyes! ô beauties miserable! O deadly state! ô deadly roialtie! O hatefull life! ô Queene most lamentable! O Antony by my faulte buriable! O hellish worke of heau'n! alas! the wrath Of all the Gods at once on vs is falne. Vnhappie Queene! ô would I in this world The wandring light of day had neuer seene? Alas! of mine the plague and poison I The crowne haue lost my ancestors me left, This Realme I haue to strangers subiect made, And robd my children of their heritage. Yet this is nought (alas!) vnto the price Of you deare husband, whome my snares intrap'd: Of you, whome I haue plagu'd, whom I haue made With bloudy hand a guest of mouldie tombe: Of you, whome I destroied, of you, deare Lord, Whome I of Empire, honor, life haue spoil'd. O hurtfull woman! and can I yet liue, Yet longer liue in this Ghost-haunted tombe? Can I yet breath! can yet in such annoy, Yet can my soule within this body dwell? O Sisters you that spin the thredes of death! O Styx! ô Plegethon! you brookes of hell! O Impes of Night!