The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 5 of 38
Lodge, Thomas · published 1594 · first performed or written 1588 [1586-1591] (Annals) tragedy · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.90 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Enough my Anthony, for thy honeyed tongue Washed in a syrup of sweet Conservatives, Driveth confused thoughts through Sulla's mind, Therefore suffice thee, I may nor will not hear, so farewell Anthony, honour calls me hence, Sulla will fight for glory and for Rome. See Noble Anthony the trustless state of rule, The stayles hold of matchless sovereignty, Now fortune beareth Rome into the Clouds, To throw her down into the lowest hells, For they that spread her glory through the world, Are they that tear her proud triumphant plumes: The hart-burning pride of proud Tarquinius, Rooted from Rome the sway of kingly mace, And now this discord newly set abroach, Shall ease our Consuls and our senate's down. Unhappy Rome and Romans thrice accursed, That oft with triumphs filled your City walls, With kings and conquering Rulers of the world, Now to eclipse in top of all thy pride, Through civil discords and domestic broils: O Romans weep the tears of sad lament, And rent your sacred Robes at this exchange, For Fortune makes our Rome a banding ball, tossed from her hand to take the greater fall. O whence proceeds these foul ambitious thoughts, That fires men's hearts and makes them thirst for Rule: Hath sovereignty so much be witched the minds Of Romans: that their former busied cares Which erst did tire in seeking Cities good, Must now be changed to ruin of her walls? Must they that reared her stately Temples up, Deface the sacred places of their Gods? Then may we wail and wring our wretched hands, Sith both our Gods, our temples and our walls, Ambition makes fell fortune's spiteful thralls. Why whither fly you Romans, What mischief makes this flight? Stay good my friends, stay dearest Countrymen. Stay let us hear what our Lord Sulla saith. What will you leave your chieftains Romans there And lose your Honours in the gates of Rome? What shall our Country see, and Sulla rue, These Coward thoughts so fixed and firmed in you? What are you come from Capua to proclaim, Your heartless treasons in this happy town? What will you stand and gaze with shameless looks, Whilst Marius butchering knife assails our throats? Are you the men, the hopes, the stairs of state? Are you the soldiers priest for Asia? Are you the wondered Legions of the world, And will you fly these shadows of resist? Well Romans I will perish through your pride, That thought by you to have returned in pomp. And at the least your General shall prove, Even in his death your treasons and his love. Lo this the wreath that shall my body bind, Whilst Sulla sleeps with honour in the field: And I alone within these colours shut, Will blush your dastard follies in my death, So farewell heartless soldiers and untrue, That leave your Sulla who hath loved you.
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)
Inough my Anthony, for thy honied tongue VVasht in a sirrop of sweete Conseruatiues, Driueth confused thoughts through scillas minde, Therfore suffize thee, I may nor will not heare, so farewell Anthony, honor calls me hence, scilla will fight for glorie and for Rome. See Noble Anthony the trustles state of rule, The stayles hold of matchles soueraignetie, Now fortune beareth Rome into the Clowds, To throw her downe into the lowest hells, For they that spread her glory through the world, Are they that teae her prowd triumphant plumes: The hart-burning pride of prowd Tarquinius, Rooted from Rome the sway of kingly mae, And now this discord newly set abroach, Shall ease our Consuls and our Senates downe. Vnhappy Rome and Romaines thrise accurst, That oft with triumphs sild your Citie walls, VVith kings and conquering Rulers of the world, Now to eclipse in top of all thy pride, Through ciuill discords and domesticke broiles: O Romaines weepe the teares of sad lament, And rent your sacred Robes at this exchange, For Fortune makes our Rome a banding ball, Tost from her hand to take the greater fall. O whence proceeds these fowle ambitious thoughts, That fires mens harts and makes them thirst for Rule: Hath soueraignty so much be witcht the minds Of Romaines: that their former busied cares VVhich erst did tire in seeking Cities good, Must now be changd to ruine of her walls? Must they that eard her stately Temples vp, Deface the sacred places of their Gods? Then may we waile and wring our wretched hands, Sith both our Gods, our temples and our walls, Ambition makes fell fortunes spightfull tnalls. Why whither flie you Romaines, VVhat mischiefe makes this flight? Stay good my friends, stay dearest Countrimen. Stay let vs heare what our Lord Scilla saith. What wil you leaue your chieftains Romains the And loose your Honors in the gates of Rome? VVhat shall our Country see, and Scilla rue, These Coward thoughts so fixt and firmd in you? VVhat are you come from Capua to proclaime, Your harties treasons in this happy towne? VVhat wil you stand and gaze with shameles looks, VVhilst Marius butchering knife assailes our thros? Are you the men, the hopes, the staires of state? Are you the souldiers prest for Asia? Are you the wondered Legions of the world, And will you flie these shadows of resist? VVell Romaines I will perish through your pride, That thought by you to haue returnd in pompe. And at the least your Generall shall proue, Euen in his death your treasons and his loue. Lo this the wreath that shall my body binde, VVhilst Scilla sleepes with honor in the field: And I alone within these cullors shut, VVill blush your dastard follies in my death, So farewell hartles souldiers and vntrue, That leaue your Scilla who hath loued you.