Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 2 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses typicality 0.79 · 475 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
She being tumbled doth confound, 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 Host, Who bore the sway among the Kings, and ruled all the roast, Whose flaunting Flag, and Banner brave, displayed in royal sort, A thousand sail of sousing ships did guard to Phrygian part, And with their swelling shatling sails the surging seas did hide, That beateth on the banks of Troy, and floweth by her side: When Phoebus cart the Zodiac ten times had aver 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 abroach shall make the floor to flow. With sturdy stroke, and boisterous blow, of pithy Pole-axe given His beaten brains are pashed abroad, his cracked Skull is riven. Now mischief marcheth on apace, now falsehood doth appear, Now butcher's slaughter doth approach, and murder draweth near. In honour of thy native day Aegisthus they prepare The solemn feast with junketing, and dainty toothsome 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 enterprise? Nay: if a mother it beseem, thou rather mayst surmise. What now? how happeneth it that thus the smiling summers night, When Phoebus from Th'antipodes should render son the light, On sudden change their turns with nights that last and linger long, When winters Boreas 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 setst 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 today. 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 Afric Land, One Wave upon another doth heap with sturdy blast: Not so doth Euxine Sea, his swelling waves up cast:
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 47–92 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 2 of 28 in this edition
Length
475 words · 659 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T24 — Apollo, Phoebus and the Musescross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.793 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T27 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
She being tumbled doth confounde, and mingle with my ſonnes. The chryſtall cleareneſſe of the day, and Phoebus beames ſo bryght, Are myxed with the foggy cloudes, and darkeneſſe dim of nyght. When wickednes had wearied vs, to late truce taken was, Euen when our deteſtable deedes were done and brought to paſſe. But valiaunt Agamemnon hee graund captayne of the Hoſte, Who bare the ſway among the Kinges, and ruled all the roſte, Whoſe flaunting Flag, and Banner braue, diſplayde in royall ſorte, A thouſand ſayle of ſowſing ſhips did garde to Phrygian parte, And with their ſwelling ſhatling ſayles the ſurging ſeas did hide▪ That beateth on the bankes of Troy, and floweth by her ſide: When Phoebus Carte the Zodiack ten times had auer runne, And waſte the battred Walles doe lye of Troy deſtroyde and woonne, Returnde he is to yeelde his throate vnto his traytreſſe Wyfe. That ſhall with force of bloudy blade bereue him of his lyfe. The glytering Swerd, the hewing Axe, and wounding weapons moe, With bloud for bloud new ſet abroche ſhall make the floore to flow. With ſturdy ſtroke, and boyſtrous blow, of pithy Pollaxe geuen His beaten braynes are paſh abroade, his cracked Skull is reuen. Now myſchiefe marcheth on a pace, now falſhoode doth appeare, Now Butchers ſlaughter doth approche, and muriher draweth neare. In honour of thy natyue day Aegiſthus they prepare The ſollemne feaſt with uncketing▪ and daynty tothſome fare. Fy, what doth ſhame abaſhe thee ſo, and cauſe thy courage quayle? Why doubts thy righthand what to doe? to ſmite why doth it fayle? What he forecaſting might ſuſpect, why ſhouldſt thou take aduyſe? Why freteeſt thou, demaunding if thou may it enterpryſe? Nay: if a mother it beſeeme, thou rather mayſt ſurmyſe. What now? how hapneth it that thus the ſming ſommers night, When Phoebus from Th'antipodes ſhoulde render ſonne the lyght, On ſudden chaung their turnes with nights that laſt and lynger longe, When wynters Boreas bitter blaſtes, doth puffe the trees amonge? Or what doth cauſe the glyding ſtarres to ſtay ſtill in the ſky? Wee wayght for Phoebus: to the Worlde bryng day now by and by. O Fortune, that doſt fayle the great eſtate of kinges, On ſlippery ſliding ſeat thou placeſt lofty thinges And ſetſt on tottring ſort, where perils do abound Yet neuer kīgdome calme, nor quiet could be foūd: No day to Scepters ſure doth ſhine, that they might ſay, To morow ſhall wee rule, as wee haue done to day. One clod of croked care another bryngeth in, One hurly burly done, another doth begin: Not ſo the raging Sea doth boyle vpon the Sande, Where as the ſouthern winde that blowes in Afryck Lande, One Waue vpon another doth heape wyth ſturdy blaſt: Not ſo doth Euxine Sea, his ſwelling waues vp caſt: