Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1559 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.85 · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Would God the expounder of the Gods would give his doom so right That I also on point of sword might lose the loathsome light, Or at Achilles tombe with ake of Pyrrhus hand be apne: And bear a part of all thy fates O wretched Polyxene. Whom yet Achilles wooeth to wed, and where his ashes lie, Requireth that thy blood be shed, and at his tomb to die. Behold lo how her noble mind of Death doth gladly hear, She decks herself? her regal weed in seemly wise to wear, And to her head she sets her hand the broided hair to lay, To wed she thought it Death, to die she thinks a wedding day But help (alas) my mother sounds to hear her daughter's death, Arise pluck up your heart and take again the panting breath. Alack good mother how slender stay, that doth thy life sustain? A little thing shall happy thee thou art almost past pain. Her breath returns: she doth revive, her limbs their life do take. So see when wretches fain would die, how death doth them forsake. Doth yet Achilles live (alas) to work the Trojans spite? Doth he rebel against us yet? O hand of Paris light. The very tomb and ashes lo, yet thirsteth for our blood, A happy heap of children late on every side me stood. It wearied me to deal the mother's kiss among them all. The rest are lost, and this alone now doth me mother call. Thou only child of Hecuba, a comfort left to me. A stayer of my sorry state and shall I now lose thee? Depart O wretched soul, and from this careful carcase fly, And ease me of such ruthful fates, to see my daughter die. By weeping wets (alas) my eyes, and stains them over all, And down my cheeks the sudden streams and showers of tears do fall. But thou dear daughter mayst be glad, Cassandra would rejoice, Or Hector's wife thus wed to be if they might have their choice. We are the wretches Hecuba in cursed case we stand. Whom straight the ship shall toss by seas into a foreign land. But as for Helen's grieves be gone and turned to the best, She shall again her native country see and live at rest. Ye would the more envy my state if ye might know your own, And growth there yet more grief to me that erst I have not known? Such masters must ye serve as doth by chance of lots befall. Whose servant am I then become whom shall I master call? By lot ye fall to Pyrrhus hands you are his prisoner. Cassandra is happy, fury saves perhaps and Phoebus her. Chief king of Greeks Cassandra keeps and his captive is she. Is any one among them all that prisoner would have me? You chanced to Ulysses are his prey ye are become.
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)
Would God the'xpoūder of the Gods would geue his dome ſo right That I alſo on poynt of ſword might leeſe the lothſome light, Or at Achilles tombe with ake of Pyrrhus hand be apne: And beare a part of al thy fates O wretched Polixeyne. Whom yet Achilles woeth to wed, and where his aſhes lie, Requireth that thy bloud be ſhed, and at his tombe to die. Behold loe how her noble mynd of Death doth gladly heare, She deckes her ſelfe? her regal weede in ſeemely wyſe to weare, And to her head ſhe ſettes her hand the broyded hayre to lay, To wed ſhe thought it Death, to die ſhe thinkes a wedding day But helpe (alas) my mother ſounds to heare her daughters death, Aryſe plucke vp your heart and take agayne the panting breath. Alacke good mother how ſlender ſtay, that doth thy life ſuſtayne? A little thinge ſhall happy thee thou art almoſt paſt payne. Her breath returnes: ſhe doth reuyue, her lims their life do take. So ſee when wretches fayne would die, how death doth them forſake. Doth yet Achilles liue (alas) to work the Troyans ſpight? Doth he rebell agaynſt vs yet? O hand of Paris light. The very tombe and aſhes loe▪ yet thirſteth for our bloud, A happy heape of children late on euery ſyde mee ſtoode. It wearied me to deale the mothers kiſſe among them al. The reſt are loſt, and this alone now doth me mother call. Thou onely child of Hecuba, a comfort left to me. A ſtayer of my ſory ſtate and ſhall I now leeſe thee? Depart O wretched ſoule, and from this carefull carcas flie, And eaſe me of ſuch ruthfull fates, to ſee my daughter die. By weepyng wets (alas) my eyes, and ſtaines them ouer al, And downe my cheekes the ſodeine ſtreames and ſhowres af teares do fal. But thou deare daughter maiſt be glad, Caſſandra would reioyſe, Or Hectors wife thus wed to be if they might haue their choyſe. We are the wretches Hecuba in curſed caſe we ſtande. Whom ſtraight the ſhippe ſhal toſſe by ſeas into a forraine land. But as for Heleyns grieues be gone and turned to the beſt, She ſhall againe her natyue countrey ſe and liue at reſt. Ye would the more enuy my ſtate if ye might know your owne, And grouth there yet more griefe to me that erſt I haue not known? Such maſters muſt ye ſerue as doth by chaunce of lots befal. Whoſe ſeruaunt am I then become whom ſhall I maiſter call? By lot ye fall to Pyrhus hands you are his priſoner. Caſſandra is happy, fury ſaues perhaps and Phoebus her. Chiefe kinge of Greekes Caſsandra keepes and his captiue is ſhee. Is any one amonge them all that pryſoner would haue me? You chaunſed to Vlyſſes are his pray ye are become.