Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 4 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 532 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
O Drowsy dreaming doting soul, what cometh in thy brain, To seek about for thy defence what way thou mayest attain? What aiels thy skittish wayward wits, to waver up and down? The fittest shift prevented is, the best path overgrown: Thou mightest on's maintained have thy wedlock chamber chaste, And eak have ruled with majesty, by faith conjoined fast: Now nurture's lore neglected is, all right doth clean decay, Religion and dignity with faith are worn away: And ruddy shame with blushing cheeks so far god ●ot is past, That when it would it cannot now come home again at last. O let me now at random run with bridle at my will: The safest path to mischief is by mischief open still. Now put in practyss●, seek about, search out and learn to find The wily trains, and crafty guiles of wicked woman kind: What any devilish traitorous dame durst do in working woe, Or any wounded in her wits by shot of Cupid's bow: What ever rigorous stepdame could commit with desperate hand, Or as the wench who flaming fast by Venus poisoning brand, Was driven by lewd uncesteous love in ship of thessail land, To flytt away from Cholchos I'll, where Phasis channel deep With silver stream down from the hills of Armenia doth sweep. Get weapons good, get bylbow blades, or temper poison strong, Or with some younker trudge from Grece by theft the seas along: Why dost thou faint to talk of theft, exile, or privy flight? These came by hap: thou therefore must on greater mischief light. (O worthy queen) among the Greeks that bears the swinging ●waye And borne of Leda's royal blood, what muttering dost thou say●? What fury fell enforceth thee, bereaved of thy wits, To rage & rave with bedlam brains, to fret with frantic fits? Though madam thou do counsel keep, and not complain thy case, Thine anguish plain appeareth in thy pale and wanny face: Reveal therefore what is thy grief, take leisure good and stay, What reason could not remedy, oft eured hath delay. So grievous is my careful case which plungeth me so sores That deal I cannot with delay, nor linger snye more. The flashing flames, and furious force of fiery fervent heat, Outraging in my boiling breast, my burning bones doth beat: It sucks the sappye marrow out, the juice it doth convey, It frets, it tears, it rends, it gnaws, my guts and gall away. Now feeble fear still eggs me on (with dolour being priest) And cankered hate which thwacking thumps doth bounce upon my breast: The blinded boy that lovers hearts doth reave with deadly stroke, Entangled hath my linked mind with lewd and wanton yoke: Refusing still to take afoyle, or clean to be confound, Among thes broils, and agonies my mind besieging round, Lo feeble, werye battered down, and under trodden shame, That wresteth, striveth, struggleth hard, and fighteth with the same. Thus am I driven to divers shores, and beat from bank to banks, And tossed in the fomye floods, that strive with courage crank. As when here wind, & there the stream when both their force will try,
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)
O Drowsie dreaming dotyng soule, what commeth in thy brayne, To seke about for thy defence what waye thou mayest attayne? What aiels thy skittish waiward wits, to wauer vp and down? The fyttest shyft preuented is, the best path ouergrown: Thou myghtest ons mayntayned haue thy wedlck chamber chast, And eak haue rulde with maiestie, by fayth conioyned fast: Now nurtures lore neglected is, all ryght doth clean decay, Relygion and dygnitie with fayth are worne awaye: And ruddy shae with blushing cheeks so farre god ot is past, That when it would it cannot now com home agayn at last. O let me now at randon run with brydle at my wyll: The safest path to myschyfe is by myschef open styll. Now put in practyss, seke about, search out and learne to fynd The wylie traynes, and craftye guyles of wicked woman kynd: What anye dyuelysh trayerous dame durst do in workyng woe, Or anye wounded in her wittes by shott of Cupids bowe: What euer rygorous stepdame could committ with desperate hand, Or as the wenche who flaming faste by Venus poysonyng brand, Was dreuen by lewd vncesteous loue in shypp of thessail land, To flytt away from Cholchos Ile, where Phsis channell depe With siluer streame down from y• hils of Armenie doth swepe. Get weapons good, get bylbow blades, or temper poyson strong, Or with som yonker trudge frō Grece by thefte the seas along: Why dost thou faynt to talke of theft, exile, or priuie flyght? These came by hap: thou therfore must on greater myschife lyght. ¶(O worthy queene) among ye Grekes that beares the swinging waye And borne of Ledas royall blood, what mutrng dost thou say? What furye fell enforceth the, bereued of thy wyttes, To rage & raue wyth bedlam braynes, to frett with franticke fitts? Though madam thou do counsell kepe, and not complayne thy case, Thyne anguysh playne appeareth in thy pale and wanny face: Reueal therfore what is thy grefe, take leysure good and staye, What reason could not remedye, oft eured hath delaye. ¶So greuous is my carefull case which pluneth me so sore That deale I cannot with delaye, nor lynger nye more. The flashing flames, and furyous force of fyrye feruent heat, Outragyng in my boylyng brest, my burnyng bones doth beat: It suckes the sappye marowe out, the ioyce it doth conuaye, It frets, it teares, it rents, it gnawes, my guttes and gall away. Now feble feare still eggs me on (wyth dolor beyng prest) And cancred hate wt thwacking thumps doth bounce vppon my brest: The blynded boy that louers hartes doth reue wyth deadly stroke, Entangled hath my lynked mynd with lewd and wanton yoke: Refusyng styll to take afoyle, or clean to be confounde, Among thes broyles, and agonyes my mynd besegyng rownd, Loe feble, wery battred downe, and vnder troden shame, That wresteth, striueth, strugleth hard, and fyghteth wyth the same. Thus am I dryuen to dyuers shores, and beat from bancke to bank, And tossed in the fomye floods, that stryue wyth corage crancke. As when here wynd, & there ye streame when both theyr force wyll trye,