Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1559 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.81 · 558 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
O Ye to whom the Lord of Land and Seas, Of Life and Death hath granted here the power Lay down your lofty looks, your pride appears The crowned King fleeth not his fatal hour. Who so thou be that lead'st thy land alone, Thy life was limit from thy mother's womb, Not purple rob, not Glorious glittering throne, Ne crown of Gold redeems thee from the tomb: A King he was that waiting for the veil, Of him that slew the Minotaur in fight: Beguiled with blackness of the wonted sail In seas him sunk, and of his name they height. So he that wild, to win the golden spoil And first with ship, by seas to seek renown, In lesser wave, at length to death 'gan boil, And thus the daughters, brought their father down: Whose songs, the woods hath drawn, and rivers held, And birds to hear his notes, did theirs forsake, In piece meal thrown, amid the Thracian field, Without return hath sought the Stygian lake. They sit above that hold our life in line, And what we suffer down they fling from high, No cark, no care, that ever may untwine The thirds, that woven are above the sky, As witness he that sometime King of Greece, Had Iason thought, in drenching seas to drown Who scaped both death and gained the Golden fleece, Whom fates advance, there may no power pluck down The highest God sometime that Saturn height His fall him taught to credit their decrees The rule of heavens: he lost it by their might, And Ioue his son now turns the rolling Skies. Who weeneth here to win eternal wealth, Let him behold this present perfit proof. And learn. the secret stop of chances stealth, Most near alas, when most it seems aloof. In slipper joy let no man put his trust: Let none despair that heavy haps hath passed The sweet with sour she mingleth as she lust Whose doubtful web pretendeth nought to last. Frailty is the third, that Clotho's rock hath spun, Now from the Distaff drawn now knapped in twain With all the world at length his end he won, Whose works have wrought, his name should great remain And he whose travels twelve, his name display, That feared nought the force of worldly hurt, In fine (alas) hath found his fatal day, And died with smart of Dianyra's shirt, If prows might eternity procure, Than Priam yet should live in liking lust, Ay portly pomp of pride thou art unsure, Lo learn by him. O Kings ye are but dust. And Hecuba that waileth now in care, That was so late of high estate a Queen, A mirror is to teach you what you are Your wavering wealth, O Princes here is seen. Whom dawn of day hath seen in high estate Before Suns set; (alas) hath had his fall The Cradle's rock, appoints the life his date From settled joy, to sudden funeral. The sprite of Achilles added to the tragedy by the Translator. FOrsaking now the places tenebrous, And deep dens of th'infernal region From all the shadows of illusions That wander there the paths full many one Lo, here am I returned all alone, The same Achil whose fierce and heavy hand Of all the world no wight might yet withstand.
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)
O Ye to whom the Lord of Lande and Seas, Of Life and Death hath graunted here the powre Lay dovvne your lofty lookes, your pride appeas The crovvned King fleeth not his fatall howre. Who ſo thou be that leadſt thy land alone, Thy life vvas limite from thy mothers vvombe, Not purple robe, not Glorious glittering throne, Ne crovvne of Gold redeemes thee from the tombe: A King he was that wayting for the vayle, Of him that ſlew the Minotaure in fight: Begilde with blacknes of the wonted ſaile In ſeas him ſonke, and of his name they hight. So he that wild, to vvin the golden ſpoyle And firſt vvith ſhip, by ſeas to ſeeke renovvne, In leſſer vvaue, at length to death gan boyle, And thus the daughters, brought their father dovvne: Whoſe ſnges, the vvoodes hath dravven, and riuers held, And birdes to heare his notes, did theirs forſake, In peece meale throvvne, amid the Thracian field, Without returne hath ſought the Stigian lake. They ſit aboue that holde our life in line▪ And vvhat vve ſuffer dovvne they fling from hie, No carke, no care, that euer may vntwine The thrids, that vvoued are aboue the ſkie, As vvitnes he that ſometyme King of Greece, Had Iaſon thought, in drenching ſeas to drovvne Who ſcapt both death and gaind the Golden fleece, Whom fates aduaunce, there may no povvre plucke dovvne The higheſt God ſomety me that Saturne hight His fall him taught to credite their decrees The rule of heauens: he loſt it by their might, And Ioue his ſonne novv turnes the rolling Skies. Who vveneth here to vvin eternall vvelth, Let him behold this preſent perfite proofe. And learne. the ſecrete ſtoppe of chaunces ſtelth, Moſt nere alas, vvhen moſt it ſeemes aloofe. In ſlipper ioy let no man put his truſt: Let none diſpayre that heauy haps hath paſt The ſvvete vvith ſovvre ſhe mingleth as ſhe luſt Whoſe doubtful web pretendeth nought to laſt. Frailtie is the thride, that Clothoes rocke hath ſponne, Novv from the Diſtaffe dravvne novv knapt in tvvaine With all the world at length his end he wonne, Whoſe works haue wrought, his name ſhould great remaine And he whoſe trauels twelue, his name diſplay, That feared nought the force of worldly hurt, In fine (alas) hath found his fatall daye, And died with ſmart of Dianyraes ſhurt, If prowes might eternity procure, Then Priam yet ſhould liue in lyking luſt, Ay portly pompe of pryde thou art vnſure, Lo learne by him. O Kinges yee are but duſt. And Hecuba that wayleth now in care, That was ſo late of high eſtate a Queene, A mirrour is to teach you what you are Your wauering wealth, O Princes here is ſeene. Whom dawne of day hath ſeene in high eſtate Before Sunnes ſet; (alas) hath had his fall The Cradels rocke, appoyntes the life his date From ſetled ioy, to ſodayne funerall. The Spright of Achilles added to the tragedy by the Tranſlator. FOrſaking now the places tenebrouſe, And deepe dennes of thinfernall region From all the ſhadowes of illuſious That wāder there the pathes ful many one Lo, here am I returned al alone, The ſame Achil whoſe fierce and heauy hande Of al the world no wight might yet withſtand.