The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 32 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 0.81 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Lucretius, I consider on thy words, Stay there a while thou shalt have answer straight. Apollo grant that my persuasions may, Preserve these Roman soldiers from the sword. My friends and citizens of Preneste town, You see the wayward working of our stars, Our hearts confirmed to fight, our victuals spent. If we submit, it's Sulla must remit, A tyrant, traitor, enemy to Rome, Whose heart is guarded still with bloody thoughts. These flattering vows Lucretius here avows, Are pleasing words to colour poisoned thoughts. What will you live with shame, or die with fame? A famous death, my Lord delights us most. We of thy faction (Marius) are resolved To follow thee in life and death together. Words full of worth, beseeming noble minds The very Balsamum to mend my woes. Oh countrymen, you see Campania spoiled, A tyrant threatening mutinies in Rome, A world despoiled of virtue, faith and trust. If then no peace, no liberty, no faith, Conclude with me, and let it be no life. Live not to see your tender infants slain, These stately towers made level with the land, This body mangled by our enemy's sword: But full resolved to do as Marius doth, unsheath your poniards, and let every friend, Bethink him of a soldierlike farewell. Sirrah, display my standard on the walls, And I will answer yond Lucretius, Who loveth Marius, now must die with Marius. What answere wil your Lordship then return v ▪ Lucretius, we that know what Sulla is, How dissolute, how trothless and corrupt: In brief conclude to die before we yield: But so to die (Lucretius mark me well) As loath to see the fury of our swords Should murder friends and Roman citizens. Pie countrymen, what fury doth infect Your warlike bosoms, that were wont to fight With foreign foes, not with Campanian friends? Now unadvised youth must counsel eld: For governance is banished out of Rome. Woe to that bough from whence these blooms are sprung, Woe to that Aetna, vomiting this fire: Woe to that brand, consuming country's weal: Woe to that Sulla, careless and secure, That gapes with murder for a Monarchy. Go second Brutus with a Roman mind, And kill that tyrant: and for Marius' sake Pity the guiltless wives of these your friends, Preserve their weeping infants from the sword, Whose fathers seal their honours with their bloods. Farewell Lucretius, first I press in place To let thee see a constant Roman die, Prenestians, lo a wound, a fatal wound, The pain but small, the glory passing great. Prenestians see a second stroke: why so. I feel the dripping dimness of the night, Closing the coverts of my careful eyes. Follow me friends: for Marius now must die With fame, in spite of Sulla's tyranny. We follow thee our chieftain even in death, Our town is thine Lucretius: but we pray For mercy for our children and our wives. O save my form Lucretius, let him live,
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)
Lucretius, I consider on thy words, Stay there a while thou shalt haue answere straight. Apollo grant that my perswasions may, Preserue these Romane souldiers from the sword. My frends and citizens of Preneste towne, You see the wayward working of our starres, Our harts confirmd to fight, our victuals spent. If we submit, its Scilla must remit, A tyrant, traitor, enemie to Rome, Whose hart is guarded still with bloodie thoughts. These flattring vowes Lucretius here auowes, Are pleasing words to colour poysoned thoughts▪ What will you liue with shame, or die with fame? A famous death, my Lord delights vs most. We of thy faction (Marius) are resolud To follow thee in life and death together. VVords full of worth, beseeming noble mindes The verie Balsamum to mend my woes. Oh countrimen, you see Campania spoild, A tyrant threatning mutinies in Rome, A world dispoyld of vertue, faith and trust. If then no peace, no libertie, no faith, Conclude with me, and let it be no life. Liue not to see your tender infants slaine, These stately towers made leuell with the land, This bodie mangled by our enemies sword: But full resolud to doo as Marius doth, Vnsheath your ponyards, and let euerie frend, Bethinke him of a souldierlike farewell. Sirrha, display my standerd on the wals, And I will answere yond Lucretius, VVho loueth Marius, now must die with Marius▪ VVhat answere wil your Lordship then return v ▪ Lucretius, we that know what Scilla is, How dissolute, how trothles and corrupt: In briefe conclude to die before we yeeld: But so to die (Lucretius marke me well) As loath to see the furie of our swords Should murther frends and Romane citizens. Pie countrimen, what furie doth infect Your warlike bosomes, that were wont to fight VVith forren foes, not with Campanian frends? Now vnaduised youth must counsaile eld: For gouernance is banisht out of Rome. Woe to that bough from whence these bloomes are sprung, VVoe to that Aetna, vomiting this fire: VVoe to that brand, consuming Countries weale: Woe to that Scilla, careles and secure, That gapes with murther for a Monarchie. Goe second Brutus with a Romane minde, And kill that tyrant: and for Marius sake Pitie the guiltles wiues of these your frends, Preserue their weeping infants from the sword, Whose fathers seale their honors with their bloods. Farewell Lucretius, first I presse in place To let thee see a constant Romane die, Prenestians, loe a wound, a fatall wound, The paine but small, the glorie passing great. Prenestians see a second stroke: why so. I feele the dreeping dimnes of the night, Closing the couerts of my carefull eies. Follow me frends: for Marius now must die With fame, in spight of Scillas tyrannie. We follow thee our chiefetaine euen in death, Our towne is thine Lucretius: but we pray For mercie for our children and our wiues. O saue my forme Lucretius, let him liue,