Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 23 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.74 · 493 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Their raw-fed jaws imbrued were with the carman's blood at last, The spoils and shafts Hipolyte saw from her bosom wrest As soon as he with clattering shaft the dusky cloud did smite, The stymphal bird that shadowed the sun, did take her flight. The fertile tree that apples bears of gold, did fear him sore, Which never yet acquaintance had with taster's tooth before. But whipping up with lively twigs into the air she flies, And while the chinking plate doth found then Argos full of eyes, The watchman shrinking close for cold that sleep yet never knew, Doth hear the noise while Hercules with metal of yellow hue Well loaden packs away, and left the grove befliched clean. The hound of hell did hold his tongue drawn by in triple chain, Nor bark with any boughing throat, nor could abide the heme, Or colour of the heavenly light, whose beams he never knew. When thou wert captain General, and didst conduct our Host, (They that) of Dardans line, to come their Stock do falsely boast, Were vanquished by force of arms and since they felt again Thy Grey goose wing, whose bitterness to fear might them constrain. WIthin a revel rexe is kept, as sore as ever was, Even at the ten years siege of Troy: What thing is this? (alas) Get up my soul, and of the rage avengement worthy crave: Though Phrygians we be vanquished, the victory we have. The matter well is brought about: up Troy thou risest now, Thou flat on floor hast pulled down Greece, to lie as low as thou. Thy Conqueror doth turn his Face: my prophesying sprite Did never yet disclose to me so notable a sight: I see the same, and am thereat, and busied in the broil, No vision fond fantastical my senses doth beguile: Such fare as Phrygians feasts with on last unhappy night At Agamemnon's royal court full daintily they dight: With purple hangings all adorned the broidered Beds do shine, In old Assarack's goblet's gylt they swink and swill the wine. The King in gorgeous royal robes on chair of State doth sit, And pranked with pride of Priam's pomp of whom he conquered it. Put of this hostile weed, to him, (the Queen, his Wife 'gan say,) And of thy loving Lady wrought wear rather this array. This garment knit. It makes me loath, that shivering here I stand. O shall a King be murdered, by a banished wretch's hand? Out, shall Th'adulterer destroy the husband of the Wife? The dreadful destinies approached, the food that last in life He tasted of before his death, their masters blood shall see, The gubs of blood down dropping on the wind shall powered be. By traitorous trick of trapping weed his death is brought about, Which being put upon his head his hands could not get out, The stopped poke with mouth set ope his muffled head doth hide,
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1068–1117 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 28 in this edition
Length
493 words · 669 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T7 — The Trojan war: conflict and its aftermathcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.742 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Their rawfed Iawes imbrewde were with the carmans bloud at laſt, The ſpoyles and ſhaftes Hipolyte ſaw from her boſome wraſt As ſone as he with clattring ſhaft the duſky cloude did ſmite, The Stymphall byrde that ſhadowed the ſunne, did take her flight. The fertill tree that apples beares of golde, did feare him ſore, Which neuer yet acquayntaunce had with Taſters ooth before. But whipping vp with liuely twigges into the ayre ſhe flys, And whyle the chinking plate doth found then Argos full of eyes, The watchman ſhrinking cloſe for colde that ſleepe yet neuer knew, Doth heare the noyſe whyle Hercules with mettall of yellow hew Well loden packs away, and left the groue befliched cleae. The hound of hell did holde his tongue drawne by in tryple cheane, Nor barke with any boughinge throate, nor coulde abyde the heme, Or colour of the heauenly lyght, whoſe beames hee neuer knewe. When thou wert captayne Generall, and didſt conduct our Hoſte, (They that) of Dardans Lygne, to come theyr Stocke doe falſly boſte, Were vanquiſhed by force of armes and ſince they felt agayne Thy Gray gooſe winge, whoſe bitterneſſe to feare might thē conſtrayne. WIthin a reuell rexe is kept, as ſore as euer was, Euen at the ten yeares ſiege of Troy: What thing is this? (alas) Get vp my ſoule, and of the rage auengmeent worthy craue: Though Phrygians wee bee vanquiſhed, the victory we haue. The matter well is brought aboute: vp Troy thou ryſeſt now, Thou flat on floore haſt pulde down Greece, to ly as low as thou. Thy Conquerour doth turne his Face: my propheſying ſpright Did neuer yet diſcloſe to mee ſo notable a ſight: I ſee the ſame, and am thereat, and buſied in the broyle, No viſion fond fantaſticall my ſenſes doth beguile: Such fare as Prygians feaſtes with on laſt vnhappy night At Agamemnons royall courte full daintily they dight: With purple hangings all adornde the brodred Beds doe ſhyne, In olde Aſſaracks goblets gylt they ſwincke and ſwill the wyne. The King in gorgyous royall robes on chayre of State doth ſit, And pranckt with pryde of Pryams pomp of whom he conquerd it. Put of this hoſtile weede, to him, (the Queene, his Wyfe gan ſay,) And of thy louing Lady wrought weare rather thys aray. This garment knit. It makes mee loth, that ſhiuering heere I ſtande. O ſhall a King be murthered, by a baniſht wretches hande? Out, ſhall Th'adulterer deſtroy the huſbande of the Wyfe? The dreadfull deſtinies approcht, the foode that laſt in lyfe He taſted of before his death, theyr mayſters bloud ſhall ſee, The gubs of bloude downe dropping on the wynde ſhall powred bee. By traytrous tricke of trapping weede his death is brought about, Which being put vpon his heade his handes coulde not get out▪ The ſtopped poake with mouth ſet ope his muffled head doth hyde,