The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 29 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 0.88 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Now Romans after all these mutinies, Seditions, murders, and conspiracies, Imagine with unpartial hearts at last What fruits proceed from these contentious brawls? Your streets, where erst the fathers of your state In robes of purple walked up and down, Are strewed with mangled members, streaming blood. And why? the reasons of this ruthful wrack, Are your seditious innovations, Your fickle minds inclined to foolish change. Ungrateful men, whilst I with tedious pain In Asia sealed my duty with my blood, Making the fierce Dardanians faint for fear, Spreading my colours in Galatia, Dipping my sword in the Enetans blood, And foraging the fields of Phocida. You called my foe from exile with his friends, You did proclaim me traitor here in Rome, You rased my house, you did deface my friends, But brawling wolves, you cannot bite the moon, For Sulla lives so forward to revenge, As woe to those that sought to do me wrong. I now am entered Rome in spite of force, And will so hamper all my cursed foes, As be he Tribune, Consul, Lord or Knight That hateth Sulla, let him look to die. And first to make an entrance to mine ire, Bring me that traitor Carbo out of hand. Oh Sulla, in revenging injuries, Inflict the pain where first offence did spring, And for my sake establish peace in Rome, And pardon these repentant Citizens. Pompey, I love thee Pompey, and consent To thy request, but Romans have regard, lest overreaching in offence again, I load your shoulders with a double pain. But Pompey see where jolly Carbo comes Footing it featly, like a mighty man, What no obeisance sirrah to your Lord? My Lord? No Sulla, he that thrice hath borne The name of Consul scorns to stoop to him, Whose heart doth hammer nought but mutinies. And doth your Lordship then disdain to stoop I to mine equal Pompey as thou art. Thine equal villain, no he is my friend, Thou but a poor anatomy of bones, Cased in a knavish tawny withered skin: Wilt thou not stoop? art thou so stately then? Sulla, I honour gods, not foolish men. Then bend that withered bough that will not break And soldiers cast him down before my feet: Now prating sir, my foot upon thy neck, He be so bold to give your Lordship check. Believe me soldiers, but I overreach, Old Carbo's neck at first was made to stretch. Though body bend, thou tyrant most unkind, Yet never shalt thou humble Carbo's mind. oh sir, I know for all your warlike pith, A man may mar your worship with a with. You sirrah levied arms to do me wrong: You brought your legions to the gates of Rome: You fought it out in hope that I would faint. But sirrah now betake you to your books, Entreat the God to save your sinful soul. For why this carcase must in my behalf Go feast the ravens that serve our augurs turn. methinks I see already how they wish, To bait their beaks in such a jolly dish.
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)
Now Romanes after all these mutinies, Seditions, murthers, and conspiracies, Imagine with vnpartiall harts at last VVhat frutes proceed from these contentious brawles▪ Your streetes, where earst the fathers of your state In robes of purple walked vp and downe, Are strewd with mangled members, streaming blood. And why? the reasons of this ruthfull wrack, Are your seditious innouations, Your fickle mindes inclinde to foolish change. Vngratefull men, whilst I with tedious paine In Asia seald my dutie with my blood, Making the fierce Dardanians faint for feare, Spredding my cullers in Galatia, Dipping my sword in the Enetans blood, And foraging the fields of Phocida. You cald my foe from exile with his frends, You did proclaime me traitor here in Rome, You racde my house, you did deface my frends, But brauling wolues, you cannot byte the moone, For Scilla liues so forward to reuenge, As woe to those that sought to doo me wrong. I now am entred Rome in spite of force, And will so hamper all my cursed foes, As be he Tribune, Consull, Lord or Knight That hateth Scilla, let him looke to die. And first to make an entrance to mine yre, Bring me that traitor Carbo out of hand. Oh Scilla, in reuenging iniuries, Inflict the paine where first offence did spring, And for my sake establish peace in Rome, And pardon these repentant Citizens. Pompey, I loue thee Pompey, and consent To thy request, but Romanes haue regard, Least ouer-reaching in offence againe, I load your shoulders with a double paine. But Pompey see where iolly Carbo comes ooting it featly, like a mightie man, VVhat no sirrha to your Lord? My Lord? No Scilla, he that thrice hath borne The ame of Consull scornes to stoop to him, Whose hart doth hammer nought but mutinies. And doth your Lordship then disdaine to stoope I to mine equall Pompey as thou art. Thine equall villaine, no he is my frend, Thou but a poore anatomie of bones, Casde in a knauish tawny withred skin: VVilt thou not stoop? art thou so stately then? Scilla, I honor gods, not foolish men. Then bend that wythered bough that will not break And souldiers cast him downe before my feete: Now prating sir, my foote vpon thy necke, He be so bold to giue your Lordship checke. Beleeue me souldiers, but I ouer-reach, Old Carbos necke at first was made to stretch. Though bodie bend, thou tyrant most vnkinde, Yet neuer shalt thou humble Carbos minde. oh sir, I know for all your warlike pith, A man may mae your worship with a wyth. You sirrha leuied armes to doo me wrong: You brought your legions to the gates of Rome: You fought it out in hope that I would faint. But sirrha now betake you to your bookes, Intreate the God to saue your sinfull soule. For why this carcasse must in my behalfe Goe feast the rauens that serue our augures turne. Me thinkes I see alreadie how they wish, To bait their beakes in such a iolly dish.