Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1559 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.84 · 537 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
WHo so in pomp of proud estate, or Kingdom sets delight: Or who that joys in PRINCE's court to bear the sway of might. Ne dreads the fates which from above the wavering Gods down flings: But fast affiance fixed hath, in frail and fickle things: Let him in me both see the Face, of Fortune's flattering joy: And eke respect the ruthful end of thee (O ruinous Troy) For never gave she plainer proof, than this ye present see: How frail and brittle is the state of pride and high degree, The flower of flowering Asia, lo whose fame the heavens resound, The Worthy work of Gods above, is battered down to ground. And whose assaults they sought afar, from West with Banners spread Where Tanais cold her branches seven, abroad the world doth shed. With hugy host and from the East, where springs the newest day, Where Luke warm Tigris channel runs, and meets the ruddy sea. And which from wandering land of Scythe, the band of widows sought: With fire and sword thus battered be her Turrets down to nought. The walls but late of high renown lo here their ruinous fall: The buildings burn, and flashing flame, sweeps through the pallas all. Thus every house full high it smokes, of old Assarack's land: Ne yet the flames withholds from spoil, the greedy Victor's hand. The surging smoke, the azure say, and light hath hid away: And (as with cloud beset) Troy's Ashes stains the dusky day. Through pierced with ire and greedy of heart, the victor from afar. Doth view the long assaulted Troy, the gain of ten years war, And eke the miseries thereof abhors to look upon, And though he see it yet scant himself, believes might be won, The spoils thereof with greedy hand, they snatch and bear away: A thousand ships would not receive aboard so huge a pray The ireful might I do protest of God's adverse to me, My countries dust, and Trojan King I call to witness thee, Whom Troy now hides, and underneath the stones art overtrod: With all the Gods that guides the Ghost, and Troy that lately, stood. And you also you flocking Ghosts of all my children dear: Ye lesser spirits whatever ill, hath happened to us here. whatever Phoebus waterish face, in fury hath foresaid: At raging rise from seas when erst, the monsters had him frayed. In childbed bands I saw it yore, and wist it should be so: And I in vain before Cassandra told it long ago. Not false Ulysses kindled hath these fires, nor none of his: Nor yet deceitful Sinon's craft, that hath been cause of this. My fire it is wherewith ye burn, and Paris is the brand That smoketh in thy towers (O Troy) the flower of Phrygian sand. But ay (alas) unhappy age, why dost thou yet so sore, Bewail thy Countries fatal fall thou knewest it long before: Behold thy last calamities, and them bewail with wares: Account as old Troy's overturn, and passed by many years, I saw the slaughter of the King, and how he lost his life: By Th' altar side (more mischief was) with stroke of Pyrrhus knife.
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
WHo ſo in pompe of prowde eſtate, or Kingdome ſets delight: Or who that ioyes in Princes courte to beare the ſway of might. Ne dreads the fates which from aboue the wauering Gods downe flinges: But faſt affiance fixed hath, in frayle and fickle thinges: Let him in me both ſe the Face, of Fortunes ftattering ioy: And eke reſpect the ruthful end of thee (Oruinous Troy) For neuer gaue ſhee playner proofe, then this ye preſent ſee: How frayle and britle is the ſtate of pride and high degree, The flowre of flowring Aſia, loe whoſe fame the heauens refound, The Worthy worke of Gods aboue, is baered downe to ground. And whoſe aſſaultes they ſought afar, from Weſt wt Banners ſpred Where Tanais cold her braunches ſeuen, abroad the world doth ſhed. With hugie hoſt and from the Eaſt, where ſpringes the neweſt dea, Where Luke warme Tygris channell runnes, and meetes the ruddy ſea. And which frō wandring land of Sythe, the band of widowes ſought: With fire and ſworde thus battered be her Turrets downe to nought. The walles but late of high renowne lo here their ruinous fall: The buildinges burne, and flaſhingflame, ſwepes through the pallas al. Thus euery houſe ful hie it ſmoakes, of old Aſſarackes lande: Ne yet the flames withholdes from ſpoyle, the greedy Victors hand. The ſurging ſmoake, the aſure ſaye, and light hath hid away: And (as with cloude beſet) Troyes Aſhes ſtaynes the duſky day. Through pearſt with ire and greedy of hart, the victor from a farre. Doth vtew the long aſſaulted Troy, the gaine of ten yeares warre, And eke the miſeryes therof abhorres to looke vppon, And though he ſe it yet ſcant himſelfe, belieues might be wonne, The ſpoyles thereof with greedy hand, they ſnatch and beare awaye: A thouſand ſhippes would not receiue aboorde ſo huge a pray The yreful might I do proteſt of Gods aduerſe to mee, My countryes duſt, and Troyan King I call to witnes thee, Whom Troy nowhydes, and vnderneath the ſtones art ouertrode: With al the Gods that guides the Ghoſt, and Troy that lately, ſtoode. And you alſo you flocking Ghoſtes of al my children dere: Ye leſſer Sprightes what euer ill, hath hapned to vs here. What euer Phoebus watriſh face, in fury hath foreſayde: At raging riſe from ſeas when earſt, the monſters had him frayde. In childbed bandes I ſaw it yore, and wiſt it ſhould be ſo: And I in vayne before Caſſandra told it long agoe. Not falſe Vlyſſes kindled hath theſe fires, nor none of his: Nor yet deceyptful Sinons craft, that hath bene cauſe of this. My fyre it is wherwith ye burne, and Parys is the brand That ſmoaketh in thy towres (O Troy) the flowre of Phrygian ſand. But ay (alas) vnhappy age, why doſt thou yet ſo ſore, Bewayle thy Countries fatall fall thou kneweſt it long before: Behold thy laſt calamityes, and them bewayle with wares: Account as old Troys ouerturne, and paſt by many yeares, I ſaw the ſlaughter of the King, and how he loſt his life: By Th' aulter ſe (more miſchiefe was) with ſtroake of Pyrrhus knife.