The Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba · chunk 10 of 26
Marston, John · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla · 472 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
No return. Haste unto Carthage: quit thy abject fears, Massinissa knows no use of murderers. Speak, speak, let terror strike slaves mute. Much danger makes great hearts most resolute, Uncle I fear foul arms, myself beheld, Syphax on high speed run his well breathed horse, Direct to Cirta that most beauteous City, Of all his kingdom: whilst his troops of horse With careless trot pace gently toward our camp, As friends to Carthage, stand on guard dear uncle For Asdrubal with yet his well ranked army, Bends a deep threatening brow to us as if, He waited but to join with Syphax horse And hew us all to pieces: O my King My Uncle, Father, Captain O over All Stand like thyself or like thyself now fall Thy troops yet hold good ground: Unworthy wounds Betray not Massinissa. Iugurth pluck Pluck, so, good cuz. O God do you not feel? Not Iugurth no, now all my flesh is steel. Of base disguise: High lights scorn not to view A true old man: up Massinissa throw The lot of battle upon Syphax troops Before he join with Carthage: then amain Make through to Scipio, he yields safe abodes Spare treachery, and strike the very Gods. Why wast thou borne at Carthage, O my fate Divinest Sophonisba! I am full Of much complaint, and many passions, The least of which expressed would sad the Gods And strike compassion in most ruthless hell Up unmaimed heart spend all thy grief and rage Upon thy foe: the fields a soldier's stage On which his action shows: If you are just And hate those that contemn you, O you God's Revenge worthy your anger, your anger, O, Down man, up heart, stoup Ioue and bend thy chin To thy large breast, give sign thouart pleased, and just Swear, good men's for heads must not print the dust What Carthage hath decreed, Hanno is done Advanced and borne was Asdrubal for state Only with it his faith, his love, his hate Are of one piece: were it my daughter's life That fate hath song to Carthage safety brings What deed so red but hath been done by Kings? Ephiginia, he that's a man for men, Ambitious as a God, must like a God Live clear from passions, his full aimed attend Immense to others, sole self to comprehend Round in's own globe, not to be clasped but holds Within him all, his heart being of more folds Than shield of Telamon not to be pierced though struck The God of wisemen is themselves, not luck. See him by whom now Massivissa is not Gisco is't done? Your pardon worthy Lord, It is not done, my heart sunk in my breast, His virtue mazed me, faintness seized me all, Some Gods in Kings that will not let them fall.
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)
No returne. Haste vnto Carthage: quit thy abiect feares, Massinissa knowes no vse of murderers. Speake, speake, let terror strike slaues mute. Much danger makes great hartes most resolute, Vnkle I feare foule armes, my selfe beheld, Syphax on high speed run his well breathde horse, Direct to Cirta that most beauteous Citty, Of all his kingdome: whilst his troupes of horse With careles trot pace gently toward our campe, As friendes to Carthage, stand on guard deere vnckle For Asdrubal with yet his well rankt armie, Bends a deepe threatning brow to vs as if, He waited but to ioyne with Syphax horse And hew vs all to peeces: O my King My Vncle, Father, Captaine O ouer All Stand like thy selfe or like thy selfe now fall Thy troups yet hold good ground: Vnworthy wounds Betray not Massinissa. Iugurth pluck Pluck, so, good cuz. O God doe you not feele? Not Iugurth no, now all my flesh is steele. Of base disguise: High lights scorne not to vew A true old man: vp Massinissa throw The lot of battle vpon Syphax troups Before he ioyne with Carthage: then amaine Make through to Scipio, he yeelds safe abods Spare treacherie, and strike the very Gods. Why wast thou borne at Carthage, O my fate Diuinest Sophonisba! I am full Of much complaint, and many passions, The least of which expresd would sad the Gods And strike compassion in most ruthlesse hell Vp vnmaimd hart spend all thy greefe and rage Vpon thy foe: the fields a soldiers stage On which his action shows: If you are iust And hate those that contemne you, O you Gods Reuenge worthy your anger, your anger, O, Downe man, vp hart, stoup Ioue and bend thy chin To thy large brest, giue signe th'art pleasd, and iust Sweare, good mens for heads must not print the dust What Carthage hath decreed, Hanno is done Aduauncd and borne was Asdruball for state Onely with it his faith, his loue, his hate Are of one peece: were it my daughters life That fate hath song to Carthage safetie brings What deed so red but hath beene done by Kings? phiginia, he thats a man for men, Ambitious as a God, must like a God Liue cleare from passions, his full aimde attend Immence to others, sole selfe to comprehend Round in's own globe, not to bee claps'd but holds Within him all, his hart being of more foldes Then sheeld of Telamon not to be peirced tho struck The God of wisemen is themselues, not lucke. See him by whom now Massiuissa is not Gisco i'st done? Your pardon worthy Lord, It is not don, my heart sunke in my breast, His virtue mazd me, faintnes seasd me all, Some Gods in Kinges that will not let them fall.