Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 2 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 474 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
and mingle with my sons. The crystal clearness of the day, and Phoebus' beams so bright, Are mixed with the foggy clouds, and darkness dim of night. When wickedness had wearied us, to late truce taken was, Even when our detestable deeds were done and brought to pass. But valiant Agamemnon he grand captain of the o●te Who bore the sway among the kings, and ruled all the roast, Whose flaunting flag, & banner bra●●, displayed in royal sort, A thousand sail of sousing ships did guard to Phrygian port, And with their swelling shatling sailes: the surging seas did hide, That heateth on the banks of Troye, and floweth ●y her side: When Phoebus' cart the Zodiac ten times had over run, And waste the battered walls do lie of Troy destroyed and won, Returned he is to yield his throat unto his traitress wife, That shall with force of bloody blade bereave him of his life. The glittering sword, the hewing axe, and wounding weapons more, With blood for blood new set a brooch shall make the floor to flow. With sturdy stroke, & boisterous blow, of pithy polar given His beaten brains are pashed abroad, his cracked skull is riven. Now mischief marcheth on a pace, Now falsehood doth appear, Now butcher's slaughter doth approach, and murder draweth near. In honowr of thy native day Aegisthus they prepare The solemn feast with i●n●ketyng, and dainty tothsom fare. Fie, what doth shame abash thee so, and cause thy courage quail? Why doubts thy right hand what to do? to smite why doth it fail? What he forecasting might suspect, why shouldst thou take advise? Why frettest thou, demanding if thou may it enterpryse● Nay: if amother it beseem, thou rather mayst surmise. What now? how happeneth it that thus the smiling summers night, When Phoebus from Thantipodes should render soon the light, On sudden change their turns with nights that last and linger long, When winters bore as bitter blasts, doth puff the trees among? Or what doth cause the gliding stars to stay still in the sky? We weight for Phoebus: to the world bring day now by and by. O Fortune, that dost fail the great estate of kings, on slippery sliding seat thou placest lofty things And syt●t on tottering sort, where perils do abound yet never kingdom calm, nor quiet could be found: No day to sceptres sure, doth shine, that they might say, To morrow shall we rule, as we have done to day. One clod of crooked care another bringeth in, One hurly-burly done, another doth begin: Not so the raging sea doth boil upon the sand, Where as the southern wind that blows in Affryck land, One wave upon another doth heap with sturdy blast: Not so doth Euxine sea, his swelling waves up cast:
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)
and myngle with my sonns. The chrystall clearenes of the daye, and Phoebus beames so bryght, Ar myxed with the foggye cloudes, and darkenes dym of nyght. When wyckednes had weryed vs, to late truce taken was, Euen when our detestable dedes were done and brought to passe. But valyant Agamemon he graund captayne of the ote Who bare the sway among the kinges, and ruled all the roste, Whose flanting flagg, & banner bra, displayed in royall sorte, A thousand sayle of sowsyng shypps did gard to Phrygian porte, And with their swelling shatling siles: the surging seas dyd hyde, That heateth on the bankes of Trye, and floweth y her syde: When Phoebus cart the Zodiack ten tymes had ouer runne, And wate the battred walles do lye of Troye destroyde and woon, Retournd he is to yeld his throte vnto his traytresse wyfe, That shall with force of blooddie blade beryue him of hys lyfe. The glytering swerd, the hewing axe, and woundyng weapons mo, With blood for blood new set a broche shall make the floore to flow. With sturdy stroke, & boysteous blow, of pythye Pollar geuen His beaten braynes are pasht abroad, his cracked skull is reuen. Now myschiefe marcheth on a pace, Now falshod doth appeare, Now butchers slaughter doth approch, and murther draweth neare. In honowr of thye natyue daye Aegisthus they prepare The sollemne feast with inketyng, and dayntie tothsom fare. Fye, what doth shame abashe thee so, and cause thy courage quayle? Why doubts thy right hand what to do? to smyte why doth it fayle? What he forecastyng myght suspect, why shouldst thou take aduyse? Why fretest thou, demaundyng if thou may it enterpryse Naye: yf amother it beseme, thou rather mayst surmyse. What now? how hapneth it that thus the smylyng sommers nyght, When Phaebus from Thantipodes should render sone the lyght, On sudden chaūg their turns wt nights that last and lyngr longe, When wynters bore as bitter blastes, doth puff the trees among? Or what doth cause the glydyng tarrs to stay styll in the skye? We wayght for Phaebus: to the worlde bryng daye now by and by. O Fortune, that dost fayle the great estate of kynges, on slyppery slydyng seat thou placest loftie thynges And sytt on tottring sort, where peryls do abounde yet neuer kyngdome calme, nor quyet could be founde: No day to scepters sure, doth shyne, that they myght saye, To morow shall we rule, as we haue don to daye. One clod of croked care another bryngeth in, One hurlye burlye done, another doth begin: Not so the ragyng sea doth boyle vpon the sand, Whear as the southern wynd that blowes in Affryck lande, One waue vppon another doth heap wyth sturdye blast: Not so doth Euxine sea, his swellyng waues vp cast: