Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 15 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.82 · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
The mariners letting duty slip stand staring all aghast, Their scooping oars suddenly out of their hands are wrest. To prayer then apace we fall, when others hope is none, The Greeks & Trojans to the Gods alike do make their moan. Alack what succour of the fates may we poor wretches find? Against his father Pyrrhus bears a spiteful cankered mind, At Ajax grudge Ulysses doth, king Menelaus doth hate Great Hector: Agamemnon is with Priam at debate. O happy man is he, that doth lie slain in Trojan ground, And hath deserved by handy stroke, to take his fatal wound, Whom fame preserveth, taking up his tomb in conquered land. Those momes whose melting cowards heart durst never take in hand, Or enterprise no noble act, those force of floods shall drown, But fate forbearing long, will take stout brutes of high renown, Full well we may ashamed be, in such a sort to die, If any man his spiteful mind yet can not satisfy, with these outrageous plunging plagues That down from gods are sent, Appease at length thy wrathful god again, and eke relent. Even Troy for pity would have wept, to see our woeful case, But if that in thy boiling breast black rancour still have place, And that the Greeks to ruin run, it be thy purpose bend, Why do these Trojans go to wrack? for whom thus are we spent? Assuage the rigour of the sea that threatnyng hyls up rears: This drenched fleet the Trojan folk and Greeks together bears. Then from their prayers are they put, their faltering tongues do stay, the roaring seas doth drown their voice and cares their cries away. Then mighty Pallas armed with the leaping lightning fire, That testy Ioue doth use to hurl provoked to swelling ire, With threatening javelin in her hand, her prowes means to try, And eke her force whose boiling breast with Gorgons fits doth fry, Or what with target she can do, and with her father's fire. Then from the skies another storm begins abroad to spire, But Ajax nothing yet dismayed all force withstandeth stout, whom when he spread his swelling sails with cable stretched out, She lighting down did wring him hard, wrapped him in her ●●ame, And flang another flashing dint of lightening on the same, With all her force and violence her h●nd brought back again, She tossed him out, as late that feat her rather taught her plain. Both over Ajax and his Pup she flieth overthwart, And renting man and ship, of both she bears away a part, His courage nought abated yet he all to syngde doth ●eme, Even like a stubborn ragged rock amid the striving stream, He trains along the roaring seas and eke the waltering wave By shoving on his burly breast in sunder quite he drove,
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The mareners lettyng dutie slyppe stand staryng al agast, Theyr scoopyng ores sodainly out of theyr handes are wrast. To prayer then apace we fall, when others hope is none, The Grekes & Troyans to the Gods alyke do make theyr mone. Alack what succour of the fates may we poore wretches fynde? Agaynst hys father Pyrrhus beares a spytefull cancred ynde, At Aiax grudge Vlysses doth, kynge Menela doth hate Great Hector: Agamemnon is with Priam at debate. O happy man is he, that doth lye slaine in Troyan ground, And hath deserued by handy stroke, to take hys fatall wounde, Whom fame preserueth, taking vp hys tombe in conquered land. Those momes whose melting cowards hart durst neuer take in hand, Or enterpryse no noble acte, those force of floods shall drowne, But fate forbearyng long, will take stoute brutes of hyghe renoume, Full well we may ashamed be, in such a sorte to dye, If any man hys spytefull mynd yet can not satysfie, with these ouragious plūging plages That downe from gods are sent, Appeace at length thy wrathfull god agayne, and eke relent. Euen Troy for pitie wold haue wept, to see our wofull case, But if that in thy boylyng brest black rancour styll haue place, And that the Grekes to ruin run, it be thy purpose bent, Why do these Troyans go to wrack? for whom thus are we spent? Asswage the rygour of the sea that threanyng hyls vp reares: This drenched fleete the Troyan folke and Grekes together beares. Then from theyr prayers ar they put, theyr foultryng tonges do stay, the roring seas doth drown their voyce and cares their cries awaye. Then myghty Pallas armed with the leppyng lyghtning fyre, That testy Ioue doth vse to hurle prouokte to swellyng ire, With thretning Iaueling in her hand, her prowe meanes to trye, And eke her force whoes boyling brest with Gorgon fyts doth frye, Or what with target she can do, and with her fathers fyre. Then from the skyes another storme begynnes abrode to spyre, But Aiax nothyng yet dysmayd all force withstandeth stout, whō when he spred his swelling sailes with cable stretched out, She lyghtyng downe did wryng hym hard, & wrapt him in her ame, And flange another flasshyng dint of lyghtnyng on the same, With all her force and violence her hnd brought back agayne, She tost hym out, as late that feate her ather tought her playne. Both ouer Aiax and hys Pup she slyeth ouerthwart, And rentyng man and shyp, of both she beares away a parte, Hys corage nought abated yet he al to syngde doth eme, Euen lyke a stubberne ragged rock amid the striuing streame, He traynes along the roaryng seas and eke the waltryng waue By shouyng on hys bourly brest in sonder quyte he draue,