The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 7 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 0.86 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Lo Sulla where our senators approach, Perhaps to gratulate thy good success. I that perhaps was fitly placed there: But my Lucretius, these are cunning Lords, Whose tongues are tipped with honey to deceive: As for their hearts, if outward eyes may see them, The devil scarce with mischief might agree them. Good fortune to our Consul, worthy Sulla. And why not General against the king of Pontus? And general against the king of Pontus. sirrah, your words are good, your thoughts are ill, Each milk white hair amidst this mincing beard, Compared with milions of thy treacherous thoughts, Would change their hue through vigour of thy hate. But did not pity make my fury thrall, This sword should finish hate, thy life and all. I pray thee Granius, how doth Marius? As he that bides a thrall to thee and fate, Living in hope as I and others do, To catch good fortune, and to cross thee too. Both blunt and bold but too much Mother wit; To play with fire where fury streams about, curtal your tale fond man cut of the rest: But here I will dissemble for the best. Sulla my years hath taught me to discern, Betwixt ambitious pride and Princely zeal, And from thy youth these Peers of Rome have marked, A rash revenging hammer in thy brain, Thy tongue adorned with flowing eloquence, And yet I see imprinted in thy brows, A fortunate but froward governance. And though thy rival Marius mated late, By backward working of his wretched fate Is fallen, yet Sulla mark what I have seen Even here in Rome the Fencer Spectacus, Hath been as fortunate as thou thyself: But when that Crassus sword assayed his crest, The fear of death did make him droop for woe. You saw in Rome this brawling fencer die, When Spectacus by Crassus was subdued: Why so, but sir I hope you will apply, And say like Spectacus that I shall die? Thus peevish eld discoursing by a fire, Amidst their cups will prate how men aspire: Is this the greeting Romans that you give, Unto the Patron of your Monarchy? Lucretius shall I play a pretty jest. What Sulla will, what Roman dare withstand? A brief and pleasing answer by my head, Why tell me Granius dost thou talk in sport? No Sulla my discourse is resolute, Not coined to please thy fond and cursed thoughts: For were my tongue betrayed with pleasing words, To feed the humours of thy haughty mind: I rather wish the rot should root it out. The bravest brawler that I ever heard, But soldiers since I see he is oppressed With crooked choler, and our Artists teach, That fretting blood will press through opened veins, Let him that hath the keenest sword arrest, The graybeard and cut off his head in jest. soldiers lay hands on Granius. Is this the guerdon then of good advise?
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)
Loe scilla where our senators approach, Perhaps to gratulate thy good successe. I that perhaps was fitly placed there: But my Lucretius, these are cunning Lords, VVhose tongues are tipt with honnie to deceiue: As for their hearts, if outward eyes may see them, The diuell scarce with mischiefe might agree them. Good fortune to our Consull, worthy scilla. And why not Generall against the king of Pontus? And generall against the king of Pontus. sirrha, your words are good, your thoughts are ill, Each milke white haire amidst this mincing beard, Compard with milions of thy trecherous thoughts, VVould change their hiew through vigor of thy hate. But did not pitie make my furie thrall, This sword should finish hate, thy life and all. I pre thee Granius, how doth Marius? As he that bydes a thrall to thee and fate, Liuing in hope as I and others doo, To catch good fortune, and to crosse thee too. Both blunt and bold but too much Mother wit; To play with fier where urie streames about, Curtall your tale fond man cut of the rest: But here I will dissemble for the best. Scilla my yeares hath taught me to discerne, Betwixt ambitious pride and Princely zeale, And from thy youth these Peees of Rome haue markt, A rash reuenging hammer in thy braine, Thy tongue adornde with flowing eloquence, And yet I see imprinted in thy browes, A fortunate but froward gouernaunce. And though thy riuall Marius mated late, By backward working of his wretched fate Is falne, yet Scilla marke what I haue seene Euen here in Rome the Fencer Spectacus, Hath bin as fortunate as thou thy selfe: But when that Crassus sword assayed his crest, The feare of death did make him droope for woe. You saw in Rome this brawling encer die, VVhen Spectacus by Crassus was subdewd: VVhy so, but sir I hope you will applie, And say like Spectacus that I shall die? Thus peeuish eld discoursing by a fire, Amidst their cups will prate how men aspire: Is this the greeting Romanes that you giue, Vnto the Patron of your Monarchie? Lucretius shall I play a prettie iest. VVhat Scilla will, what Romane dare withstand▪ A briefe and pleasing answere by my head, VVhy tell me Granius dost thou talke in sport? No Scilla my discourse is resolute, Not coynd to please thy fond and cursed thoughts: For were my tongue betraide with pleasing words, To feed the humors of thy haughty mind: I rather wish the rot should roote it out. The brauest brawler that I euer heard, But souldiers since I see he is opprest VVith crooked choller, and our Artists teach, That fretting blood will presse through opened veines, Let him that hath the keenest sword arrest, The gray-beard and cut off his head in iest. Souldiers lay hands on Granius. Is this the guerdon then of good aduise?