The Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba · chunk 19 of 26
Marston, John · published 1606 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · Children of the Queen's Revels · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
A wasting flame feeds on my amorous blood Which we must cool or die? what way all power, All speech full Opportunity can make, We have made fruitless trial. Infernal Ioue, You resolute Angels that delight in flames, To you all wonder working spirits I fly Since heaven helps not, deepest hell we'll try. Here in this desert the great soul of Charms, Dreadful Erichtho lives whose dismal brow, contemns all roofs or civil coverture. Forsaken graves and tombs the Ghosts forced out She joys to inhabit. A loathsome yellow leanness spreads her face A heavy hell-like paleness loads her cheeks Unknown to a clear heaven: but if dark winds. Or thick black clouds drive back the blinded stars When her deep magic makes forced heaven quake And thunder spite of Ioue. Erichtho then From naked graves stalks out, heaves proud her head With long unkempt hair loaden, and strives to snatch The night's quick sulphur: than she bursts up tombs From half rot cerecloths then she scrapes dry gums For her black rites: but when she finds a corpse New graved whose entrails yet not turn To fly my filth with greedy havoc than she makes fierce spoil: & swells with wicked triumph To bury her lean knuckles in his eyes Then doth she knaw the pale and o'ergrown nails From his dry hand: but if she find some life Yet lurking close she bites his gelled lips, And sticking her black tongue in his dry throat, She breathes dire murmurs, which enforce him bear Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror. To her first sound, the Gods yield any harm, As trembling once to hear a second charm, She is: Here Syphax here, quake not, for know I know thy thoughts, thou wouldst entreat our power, Nice Sophonisba's passion to enforce To thy affection be all full of Ioue, 'tis done, 'tis done, to us heave earth, sea, air, And Fate itself obeys, the beasts of death, And all the terrors angry Gods invented, (T'afflict th'ignorance of patient man), Tremble at us: the rolled up snake uncurled, His twisted knots at our affrighting voice, Are we incensed? the King of flames grows pale, lest he be choked with black and earthy fumes, Which our charms raise: Be joyed, make proud thy lust I do not pray you Gods, my breathes: You must. Deep knowing spirit, mother of all high Mysterious science, what may Syphax yield, Worthy thy art, by which my soul's thus eased, The Gods first made me live, but thou live pleased. Know then our love, hard by the reverent ruins Of a once glorious temple reared to Ioue, Whose very rubbish (like the pitied fall, Of Virtue much unfortunate) yet bears, A deathless Majesty though now quite razed, Hurled down by wrath, and lust of impious Kings So that where holy flamens wont to sing, Sweet hymns to heaven, there the daw and crow,
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
A wasting flame feedes on my amorous bloud Which wee must coole or dye? what way all power, All speech full Opportunity can make, We haue made fruitles trial. Infernall Ioue, You resolute Angels that delight in flames, To you all wonder working spirites I flie Since heauen helpes not, deepest hell weele trie. Here in this desart the great soule of Charmes, Dreadfull Erictho liues whose dismall brow, Contemnes all roofes or ciuill couerture. Forsaken graues and tombes the Ghosts forcd out Shee ioyes to inhabit. A loathsome yellowe leannesse spreades hir face A heauy hell-like palenes loades hir cheekes Vnknowne to a cleare heauen: but if darke windes. Or thick black cloudes driue back the blinded stars When her deepe magique makes forc'd heuen quake And thunder spite of Ioue. Erichtho then Frō naked graues stalkes out, heaues proud hir head With lōg vnkēde haire loaden, and striues to snatch The Nights quick sulphar: then she bursts vp tombes From half rot searcloaths then she scrapes dry gums For hir black rites: but when she findes a corse New graud whose entrailes yet not turne To fly my filth with greedy hauock then she makes fierce spoile: & swels with wicked triumph To bury hir leane knuckles in his eyes Then doeth she knaw the pale and or'egrowne nailes From his dry hand: but if she find some life Yet lurking close she bites his gelled lips, And sticking her blacke tongue in his drie throat, She breathes dire murmurs, which inforce him beare Her banefull secrets to the spirits of horror. To her first sound, the Gods yeeld any harme, As trembling once to heare a second charme, She is: Here Syphax here, quake not, for know I know thy thoughts, thou wouldst entreat our power, Nice Sophonisba's passion to enforce To thy affection be al full of Ioue, Tis done, tis done, to vs heaue earth▪ sea, aire, And Fate it selfe obayes, the beastes of death, And all the terrors angry Gods inuented, (T'afflict th'ignorance of patient man), Tremble at vs: the roulde vp snake vncurlde, His twisted knots at our affrighting voice, Are we incensd? the King of flames grows pale, Least he be choakde with blacke and earthy fumes, Which our charms raise: Be ioi'd, make proud thy lust I doe not pray you Gods, my breathes: You must. Deepe knowing spirit, mother of all high Misterious science, what may Syphax yeeld, Worthy thy art, by which my soule's thus easde, The Gods first made me liue, but thou liue pleasde. Know then our loue, hard by the reuerēt ruines Of a once glorious temple rearde to Ioue, Whose very rubbish (like the pittied fall, Of Vertue much vnfortunate) yet beares, A deathlesse Maiesty though now quite rac'd, Hurld downe by wrath, and lust of impious Kings So that where holy Flamins wont to sing, Sweet Hyms to heauen, there the daw and crow,