Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1559 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.88 · 544 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
What man so stout of all the Grecians host, That hath not sometime craved Achilles' aid, And in the Trojans, who of prows most That hath not feared to see my Banner splayed Achilles lo, hath made them all afraid. And in the Greeks hath been a pillar post, That sturdy stood against their Trojan host. Where I have lacked the Grecians went to wrack, Troy proved hath what Achill's sword could do Where I have come the Trojans fled a back, Retiring fast from field their walls unto, No man that might Achilles' stroke fordo I dealt such stripes amid the Trojan rout, That with their blood I stained the fields about. Mighty Memnon that with his Persian band, Would Priam's part with all might maintain, Lo now he lieth and knoweth Achilles' hand Amid the field is Troilus also slain. Ye Hector great, whom Troy accounted plain The flower of chivalry that might be found, All of Achilles had their mortal wound. But Paris lo, such was his false deceit, Pretending marriage of Polyxene, Behind the altar lay for me in wait Where I unwares have fallen into the train And in Apollo's church he hath me slain Whereof the Hell will now just vengeance have, And here again, I come my right to crave. The deep Averne my rage may not sustain, Nor bear the angers of Achilles' sprite From Acheron I rent the spoil in twain, And though the ground I grate again to sight: Hell could not hide Achilles from the light, Vengeance and blood doth Orcus' pit require, To quench the furies of Achilles' ire. The hateful land, that worse than Tartar is And burning thrust exceeds of Tantalus, I here behold again, and Troy is this O, travel worse, than stone of Sisyphus And pains that pass the pangs of Tityus To light more loathsome fury hath me sent Then hooked wheel, that Ixion's flesh doth rent. Remembered is allow where sprites do dwell The wicked slaughter wrought by wily way. Not yet revenged hath the deepest hell, Achilles' blood on them that did him slay But now of vengeance come the ireful day And darkest dens of Tartar from beneath Conspire the faults, of them that wrought my death. Now mischief, murder, wrath of hell draweth near Aud dyre Phlegethon floud doth bloud require Achilles' death shall he revenged here With slaughter such as Stygian lakes desire Her daughter's blood shall slake the spirits ire, Whose son we slew, whereof doth yet remain, The wrath beneath, and hell shallbe their pain. From burning lakes the furies wrath I threat, And fire that nought but streams of blood may slake The rage of wind and seas their ships shall beat, And Ditis deep on you shall vengeance take, The spirits cry out, the earth and seas do quake The pool of Styx, ungrateful Greeks it seath, With slaughtered blood revenge Achilles death. The soil doth shake to bear my heavy foot And feareth again the sceptres of my hand, The pools with stroke of thunderclap ring out, The doubtful stars amid their course do stand, And fearful Phoebus hides his blazing brand The trembling lakes against their course do flite, For dread and terror of Achilles' sprite.
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)
What man ſo ſtout of al the Grecians hoſt, That hath not ſometyme crau'd Achilles aide, And in the Troyans, who of prowes moſt That hath not feard to ſee my Banner ſplaide Achilles lo, hath made them all affrayde. And in the Greekes hath bene a piller poſt, That ſtvrdy ſtode agaynſt their Troyan hoſt. Where I haue lackt the Grecians went to wracke, Troy proued hath what Achills ſword could doe Where I haue come the Troyans fled a backe, Retyring faſt from field their walles vnto, No man that might Achilles ſtroke fordoe I dealt ſuch ſtripes amid the Troian route, That with their bloud I ſtaynd the fieldes aboute. Mighty Memnon that with his Perſian band, Would Pryams part with all might mayntayne, Lo now he lyeth and knoweth Achilles hand Amid the field is Troylus alſo ſlayne. Ye Hector great, whom Troy accompted playne The flowre of chiualry that might be found, All of Achilles had theyr mortall wound. But Paris lo, ſuch was his falſe deceipt, Pretending maryage of Polixeine, Behynd the aulter lay for me in wayte Where I vnwares haue falne into the trayne And in Appolloes church he hath me ſlayne Wherof the Hel will now iuſt vengeance haue, And here agayne, I come my right to craue. The deepe Auerne my rage may not ſuſtayne, Nor beare the angers of Achilles ſpright From Acheront I rent the ſpoyle in twayne, And though the ground I grate agayne to ſight: Hell could not hide Achilles from the light, Vengeance and bloud doth Orcus pit require, To quench the furies of Achilles yre. The hatefull land, that worſe then Tartare is And burning thruſt excedes of Tantalus, I here beholde againe, and Troy is this O, trauell worſe, then ſtone of Siſyphus And paines that paſſe the panges of Tityus To light more lothſome furie hath me ſent Then hooked wheele, that Ixions fleſh doth rent. Remembred is alowe where ſprites do dwell The wicked ſlaughter'wrought by wyly way▪ Not yet reuenged hath the deepeſt hell, Achilles bloud on them that did him ſlay But now of vengeance come the yrefull day And darkeſt dennes of Tartare from beneath Conſpire the fautes, of them that wrought my death. Now miſchiefe, murder, wrath of hell draweth nere Aud dyre Phlegethon floud doth bloud require Achilles death ſhall he reuenged here VVith ſlaughter ſuch as Stygian lakes deſyre Her daughters bloud ſhal ſlake the ſpirites yre, VVhoſe ſonue we ſlew, whereof doth yet remayne, The wrath beneath, and hell ſhalbe their payne. From burning lakes the furies wrath I threate, And fire that nought but ſtreames of bloud may ſlake The rage of winde and ſeas their ſhippes ſhall beate, And Ditis deepe on you ſhall vengeance take, The ſpirites crie out, the earth and ſeas do quake The poole of Styx, vngratefull Greekes it ſeath, VVith ſlaughtred bloud reuenge Achilles death. The ſoyle doth ſhake to beare my heauy foote And fearth agayne the ſceptors of my hand, The pooles with ſtroake of thunderclap ring out, The doubtful ſtarres amid their courſe do ſtand, And fearfull Phoebus hides his blaſing brande The trembling lakes agaynſt their courſe do flite, For dread and terrour of Achilles ſpright.