Norton, Thomas / Sackville, Thomas · published 1570 · first performed or written 1562 [Jan 18] (Annals) tragedy · before the Court T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 488 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
On thee Porrex, thou false and caitiff wight. If after blood, so eager were thy thirst, And murderous mind had so possessed thee, If such hard heart of rock and stony flint Lived in thy breast, that nothing else could like Thy cruel tyrants thought but death and blood: Wild savage beasts, might not their slaughter serve To feed thy greedy will, and in the midst Of their entrails to stain thy deadly hands With blood deserved, and drink thereof thy fill? Or if naught else but death and blood of man Might please thy lust, could none in Britain land, Whose heart betorne out of his panting breast With thine own hand, or work what death thou wouldst, Suffice to make a sacrifice to pease That deadly mind and murderous thought in thee? But he who in the self same womb was wrapped, Where thou in dismal hour receivedst life? Or if needs, needs, thy hand must slaughter make, moughtst thou not have reached a mortal wound, And with thy sword have pierced this cursed womb, That the accursed Porrex brought to light, And given me a just reward therefore? So Ferrex yet sweet life might have enjoyed, And to his aged father comfort brought, With some young son in whom they both might live. But whereunto waste I this ruthful speech, To thee that hast thy brother's blood thus shed? Shall I still think that from this womb thou sprung? That I thee bore? or take thee for my son? No traitor, no: I thee refuse for mine, Murderer I thee renounce, thou art not mine. Never, O wretch, this womb conceived thee, Nor never bode I painful throws for thee. Changeling to me thou art, and not my child, Nor to no wight, that spark of pity knew. Ruthless, unkind, monster of nature's work, Thou never sucked the milk of woman's breast, But from thy birth the cruel Tigers teats Have nursed thee, nor yet of flesh and blood Formed is thy heart, but of hard iron wrought, And wild and desert woods bred thee to life. But canst thou hope to scape my just revenge? Or that these hands will not be wrooke on thee? Dost thou not know that Ferrex mother lives That loved him more dearly than herself? And doth she live, and is not venged on thee? We marvel much whereto this lingering stay Falls out so long: Porrex unto our court By order of our letters is returned, And Eubulus received from us by hest At his arrival here to give him charge Before our presence strait to make repair, And yet we have no word whereof he stays. Lo where he comes & Eubulus with him. According to your highness hest to me, Here have I Porrex brought even in such sort As from his wearied horse he did alight, For that your grace did will such haste therein.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1008–1066 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 29 in this edition
Length
488 words · 620 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T7 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
On thee Porrex, thou false and caitife wight. If after bloud, so eigre were thy thirst, And murderous minde had so possessed thee, If such hard hart of rocke and stonie flint Liued in thy brest, that nothing els could like Thy cruell tyrantes thought but death and bloud: Wilde sauage beasts, mought not their slaughter seru To fede thy gredie will, and in the middest Of their entrailes to staine thy deadly handes With bloud deserued, and drinke thereof thy fill? Or if nought els but death and bloud of man Mought please thy lust, could none in Brittaine land, Whose hart betorne out of his panting brest With thine owne hand, or worke what death thou wouldest, Suffice to make a sacrifice to peaze That deadly minde and murderous thought in thee? But he who in the selfe same wombe was wrapped, Where thou in dismall hower receiuedst life? Or if nedes, nedes, thy hand must slaughter make, Moughtest thou not haue reached a mortall wound, And with thy sword haue pearsed this cursed wombe, That the accursed Porrex brought to light, And geuen me a iust reward therefore? So Ferrex yet sweete life mought haue enioyed, And to his aged father comfort brought, With some yong sonne in whom they both might liue. But whereunto waste I this ruthfull speche, To thee that hast thy brothers bloud thus shed? Shall I still thinke that frō this wombe thou sprong? That I thee bare? or take thee for my sonne? No traitour, no: I thee refuse for mine, Murderer I thee renounce, thou art not mine. Neuer, O wretch, this wombe conceiued thee, Nor neuer bode I painfull throwes for thee. Changeling to me thou art, and not my childe, Nor to no wight, that sparke of pitie knew. Ruthelesse, vnkinde, monster of natures worke, Thou neuer suckt the milke of womans brest, But from thy birth the cruell Tigers teates Haue nursed thee, nor yet of fleshe and bloud Formde is thy hart, but of hard iron wrought, And wilde and desert woods bredde thee to life. But canst thou hope to scape my iust reuenge? Or that these handes will not be wrooke on thee? Doest thou not know that Ferrex mother liues That loued him more dearly than her selfe? And doth she liue, and is not venged on thee? We maruell much wherto this lingring stay Falles out so long: Porrex vnto our court By order of our letters is returned▪ And Eubulus receaued from vs by hest At his arriuall here to geue him charge Before our presence straight to make repaire, And yet we haue no worde whereof he stayes. Lo where he commes & Eubulus with him. According to your highnesse hest to me, Here haue I Porrex brought euen in such sort As from his weried horse he did alight, For that your grace did will such hast therein.