Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 19 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 · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
For to revenge his father's fault, she did not spare to kill: And gave his flesh and blood for food the father's maw to fill. Nor Progne who in swallows shapes upon the ridge's high, Of houses sits in Biston town bewailing peteou●lye, With chattering throat, of Tereus her spouse the cruel act, (Who did by strength & force of arms a shameful brutish fact. Defile the sister of his wife, fair Philomela by name, And ●ake cut out her tongue, lest she should blab it to his shame) Though Progne this her husbands rape lamenting very sore Do wail, and weep which piteous plaint, yet can she not deplore Sufycientlye, though that she would our countries petious plight: Though he himself among the swans sir Cygnus lily white. who dwells in stream of Ister ●●ood, and Tanais channel could, His weeping voice most earnestly though utter out he would: Although the morning haltions with doleful sighs do wail, At such time as the fighting floods their Cyex did assail, Or rashly wearing bold attempt the seas now laid at rest, Or being very fearful feed their brood in tottering nest, Although as sqeimysh hearted men those priests in bedlam rage, Whom mother Cybele being borne n hyghe in lofty stage, Doth move, so play on shawms, Atys the Phrygian to lament, Yet can not they this lot bewail, though brawn from arms they rend. Cassandra in our tears there is, no measure to refrain, Those miseries all measure passe, that plunged us in pain. The sacred fillets from thy heads, why dost thou hale and pull? They chyflye aught to worship god, whose hearts with grief be dull. My fear by this aflyction is clean abated all, Nor praying to the heavenly ghosts for mercy will I call. Although they were disposed to chafe and fret in fustian fumes: They nothing have me to displease, fortune her force consumes. Her spite is worn unto the stumps, what country have I left? Where is my sire? am I of all my sisters quit bereft. The sacred tombs and alter stones our blood have drunk and swyld, Where are my brethren blessed knot? destroyed in the field. All widow wives of Priam's sons may easily now behold, The palace void and cast of court of syllye Priam old. And by so many marriages so many wyddows are, But only Helen coming from the coast of Lacon far. That Hecuba the mother of so many a princely wight, whose fruitful womb did breed the brand, of fire blazing bright: Who also bore the swinge in Troy, by practice now doth learn, New laws and guise of destiny in bondage to discern. On her she taketh heart of grace with looks so stern and wild, And barketh as a bedlam bitch about her strangled child Dear Polidor, the remnant left, and only hope of Troy, Hector and Priam to revenge, and to restore her joy.
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)
For to reuenge his fathers fault, she did not spare to kyll: And gaue his flesh and blood for food the fathers maw to fyll. Nor Progne who in swallows shape vpon the rydges hye, Of houses sitts in Biston town bewaylyng peteoulye, With chatteryng throte, of Tereus her spouse the cruell act, (Who did by strength & force of arms a shamfull brutyshe fact. Defyle the syster of his wyfe, fayre Philomel by name, And ake cut out her tonge, least shee should blab it to his shame) Though Progne this her husbandes rape lamentyng very sore Do waile, and wepe wt piteous plaint, yet can she not deplore Sufycientlye, though that she would our contreys petious plyght: Though he him selfe among the swans syr Cygnus lyllye whight. who dwelles in streame of Ister ood, and Tanais channell could, His weping voyce most ernestlye though vtter out he would: Although the mornyng Halcyons with dolefull syghes do wayle, At such tyme as the fyghtyng floodes their Cyex did assayle, Or rashly weryng bould attempt the seas now layd at rest, Or beyng verye fearefull fede their broode in tottryng nest, Although as sqeimysh harted men those preistes in bedlem rage, Whom mother Cyble beyng borne n hyghe in lofty stage, Doth moue, so play on shalmes, Atys the Phrygian to lament, Yet can not they this lot bewayle, though brawn frō armes they rent. Cassandra in our teares ther is, no mesure to refrayne, Those miseryes all mesure pase, that plunged vs in payne. The sacred fillets from thy heds, why doest thou hale and pull? They chyflye ought to worshyp god, whose hartes with grefe be dull. ¶My feare by this aflyction is cleane abated al, Nor prayeng to the heauenly ghostes for mercye will I call. Although they wer disposd to chafe and fret in fustien fumes: They nothyng haue me to displease, fortune her force consumes. Her spyte is worne vnto the stumpes, what contrey haue I lefte? Wher is my syre? am I of all my systers quyt bereft. The sacred tombes and alter stones our blood haue dronke and swyld, Where are my bretherne blessed knot? destroyed in the fylde. All wyddow wyues of Priams sonnes may easly now behould, The pallace voyd and cast of court of syllye Priam ould. And by so manye marriages so many wyddows ar, But onlye Hellen commyng from the coast of Lacon far. That Hecuba the mother of so many a pryncelye wyght, whose frutful womb did breed y• brand, of fyer blasyng bryght: Who also bare the swinge in Troy, by practis now doth learne, New lawes and guyse of destynie in bondage to discerne. On her she taketh hart of grace with lookes so sterne and wylde, And barketh as a bedlem bitche aboute her strangled chyld Dear Polidor, the remnaunt left, and onely hope of Troy, Hector and Priam to reuenge, and to restore her ioy.