The Wounds of Civil War, or Marius and Scilla · chunk 38 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 0.77 · 527 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Words full of woe still adding to my grief, A cureless cross of many hundredth harms. Oh let not Rome and poor Cornelia lose, The one her friend, the other her delight. Cornelia, man hath power by some instinct And gracious revolution of the stars, To conquer kingdoms not to master fate: For when the course of mortal life is run, Than Clotho ends the web her sister spun. Pompey, Lord Flaccus, fellow senators, In that I feel the faintful dews of death steeping mine eyes within their chilly wet, The care I have of wife and daughter both, Must on your wisdoms happily rely, With equal distribution see you part, My lands and goods betwixt these lovely twain, Only bestow a hundred thousand Sesterces, Upon my friends and fellow soldiers. Thus having made my final testament, Come Fulvia let thy father lay his hand, Upon thy lovely bosom and entreat A virtuous boon and favour at thy hands. Fair Roman maid, see that thou wed thy fairs, To modest virtuous and delightful thoughts: Let Rome in viewing thee behold thy sire, Honour Cornelia from whose fruitful womb, Thy plenteous beauties sweetly did appear, And with this Lesson lovely maid farewell. oh tedious and unhappy chance for me. Content thee Fulvia, for it needs must be. Cornelia I must leave thee to the world, And by those loues that I haue lent thee o, In mutual wedlock rites and happy war. Remember Sulla in my Fulvia still: Consul farewell, my Pompey I must hence, And farewell Rome, and Fortune now I bless thee, That both in life and death wouldst not oppress me, oh hideous storms of never daunted fate, Now are those eyes whose sweet reflections cold The smothered rancours of rebellious thoughts Clad with the sable mantles of the night. And like the tree that robbed of sun and showers Mourns desolate withouten leaf or sap: so poor Cornelia late bereft of love, Sits sighing, hapless, joyless and forlorn. Gone is the flower that did adorn our fields, Fled are those sweet reflections of delight, Dead is my Father, Fulvia dead is he In whom thy life, for whom thy death must be. Ladies, to tire the time in restless moan Were tedious unto friends and nature too, Sufficeth you that Sulla so is dead, As fame shall sing his power though life be fled. Then to conclude his happiness my Lords, Determine where shall be his Funeral. even there where other Nobles are interred. Why Lepidus what Roman ever was, That merited so high a name as he? Then why with simple pomp and funeral Would you entomb so rare a paragon? An urn of gold shall hem his ashes in, The Vestal virgins with their holy notes Shall sing his famous (though too fatal) death, I and my Fulvia with dispersed hair Will weight upon this noble Romans hearse. And Fulvia clad in black & mournful pale Will weight upon her father's funeral. Come bear we hence this trophy of renown, Whose life, whose death was far from fortune's frown, Deo iuvante, nil nocet livor malus: Et non iuvante nil juuat labor gravis.
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)
VVords full of woe still adding to my griefe, A curelesse crosse of many hundreth harmes. Oh let not Rome and poore Cornelia loose, The one hir frend, the other her delight. Cornelia, man hath power by some instinct And gracious reuolution of the starres, To conquer kingdomes not to master fate: For when the course of mortall life is runne, Then Clotho ends the web hir sister spun. Pompey, Lord Flaccus, fellow senators, In that I feele the faintfull deawes of death steeping mine eies within their chilly wet, The care I haue of wife and daughter both, Must on your wisedomes happily elie, VVith equall distribution see you part, My lands and goods betwixt these louely twaine, Onely bestow a hundred thousand Sestercies, Vpon my friends and fellow souldiers. Thus hauing made my finall testament, Come Fuluia let thy father lay his hand, Vpon thy louely bosome and intreat A vertuous boone and fauour at thy hands. Faire Romane maide, see that thou wed thy faires, To modest vertuous and delightfull thoughts: Let Rome in viewing thee behold thy sire, Honour Cornelia from whose fruitfull woombe, Thy plenteous beauties sweetly did appeare, And with this Lesson louely maide farewell. oh tedious and vnhappy chance for me. Content thee Fuluia, for it needes must bee. Cornelia I must leaue thee to the world, And by those loues that I haue lent thee o, In mutuall wedlocke rytes and happie warre. Remember Scilla in my Fuluia stil: Consull farewell, my Pompey I must hence, And farewel Rome, and Fortune now I blesse thee, That both in life and death wouldst not oppresse mee, oh hideous stormes of neuer danted fate, Now are those eyes whose sweet reflections coold The smothered rancors of rebellious thoughts Clad with the sable mantles of the nigt. And like the tree that robd of sunne and showres Mournes desolate withouten leafe or sap: so poore Cornelia late bereft of loue, Sits sighing, haples, ioyles and forlorne. Gone is the flower that did adorne our fields, Fled are those sweete reflections of delight, Dead is my Father, Fuluia dead is hee In whom thy life, for whom thy death must bee. Ladies, to tyre the time in restles mone VVere tedious vnto frends and nature too, Sufficeth you that Scilla so is dead, As fame shall sing his power though life be fled. Then to conclude his happines my Lords, Determine where shall be his Funerall. Euen there where other Nobles are interd. VVhy Lepidus what Romane euer was, That merited so high a name as hee? Then why with simple pompe and funerall VVould you intombe so rare a paragon? An vrne of gold shall hem his ashes in, The Vestall virgins with their holy notes Shall sing his famous (though too fatall) death, I and my Fuluia with dispersed haire VVill waight vpon this noble Romanes hearse. And Fuluia clad in blacke & mournfull pale VVill waight vpon her fathers funerall. Come beare we hence this trophee of renowne, VVhose life, whose death was farre from fortunes frowne, Deo iuuante, nil nocet liuor malus: Et non iuuante nil iuuat labor grauis.