The Raging Turk, or Bajazet the Second · chunk 47 of 51
Goffe, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1618 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Of rare instinct, blessed Author of a book Worthy the studies of a reading God, Thou dost present before my wearied eyes, Tiberius sweeting in his policies, Dull Claudius gauged by dull flattery, Nero unboweling Nobility, Galba undone by servants hardly good, Otho o'erwhelmed in love, and drenched in blood, Vittelli●s sleeping in the chair of State, Vespasian called to government by Fate, Still as thy Muse doth travel o'er their age, A Prince's care is writ in every Page. Thus I unfold the volume of thy wit, The chiefest solace of my moving wit, Caedes eo fuit nobilior, quia filius Patrem interfecit. Tacit. Hist. lib. 20. Avaunt thou damned wizard, did thy god Apollo teach thee to divine my fall? What hath thy cursed Genius tract my steps Through the Meanders of dark Privacy, And will he dwell with me in these close shades To vex my banished soul, banished from joy, Removed from the world's eye? I am accursed, And hated by the Synod of the gods, A knot of envious deceits, the day will be When they shall smart for this indignity. Triumph my Plaintiffs, Nemesis your Queen Is Pierced quite through with your continual groans. See, see, the prostrate body of a King, Clad in the weeds of pining discontent, Lieth open to your wrath, and doleful hate: But I conjure you not to touch his skin, Nor hurt his sacred person, those three Fates (Those frightfull sisters) told me they decree For Bajazet another destiny: But vex his soul with your deluding blows, And let him dream of direful anguishments, Each in the proper order of his Fate, Vent the compressed confusion of his hate. Awake, awake thou tortured Emperor, Look with the eye of fury on the heavens, Threaten a downfall to this mortal stage, And let it crack with thee, thy life is run To the last Scene, thy Tragic part is done. You meager devils, and infernal hags, Where are you? Ha? what vanished? am I found? Did I not feel them tear and rack my flesh, And foreamble it amongst them? heaven and earth I am deluded, what thin airy shapes Durst fright my soul, I'll hunt about the world, Search the remotest angles of the earth, Till l've found out the climate hold sthese fiends, Or build a bridge by Geometric skill, Whom lineal extension shall reach forth To the declining borders of the sky, On which I'll lead mortality along, And break a passage through those brazen walls, From whence Ioue triumphs o'er this lower world: Then having got beyond the utmost sphere, Besiege the concave of this universe: And hungerstarve the gods till they confess What furies did my sleeping soul oppress. Ha? did it lighten? or what nimble flame Has crept into my blood? me thinks it steals Through my distempered joints, as if it feared To urge Medeas to i●n●atience. Hamon, accursed Hamon stand my soul Above the power of these inuenomed drugs: Am I in hell alive? the Stygian flames
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)
Of rare instinct, blest Author of a booke Worthy the studies of a reading God, Thou do'st present before my wearied eyes, Tiberius sweating in his policies, Dull Claudius gaged by dull flattery, Ner vnbowelling Nobility, Galba vndone by seruants hardly good, Otho o're-whelm'd in loue, and drencht in blood, Vittellis sleeping in the chayre of State, Vespatian call'd to gouernment by Fate, Still as thy Muse doth trauell o're their age, A Princes care is writ in euery Page. Thus I vnfold the volume of thy wit, The chiefest solce of my mouing wit, Caedes eo fuit nobilior, quia filius Patrem interfecit. Tacit. Hist. lib. 20. Auaunt thou damn'd wizard, did thy god Apollo teach thee to diuine my fall? What hath thy cursed Genius tract my steps Throught the Meanders of darke Priuacie, And will he dwell with me in these close shades To vex my banisht soule, banisht from ioy, Remoued from the worlds eye? I am accurs'd, And hated by the Synode of the gods, A knot of enuious deceites, the day will be When they shall smart for this indignity. Triumph my Plantiffes, Nemesis your Queene Is Pierc'd quite through with your continuall groanes. See, see, the prostrate body of a King, Clad in the weedes of pining discontent, Lyeth open to your wrath, and dolefull hate: But I coniure you not to touch his skinne, Nor hurt his sacred person, those three Fates (Those srightfull sisters) told me they decree For Baiazet another destinie: But vex his soule with your deluding blowes, And let him dreame of direfull anguishments, Each in the proper order of his Fate, Vent the comprest conusion of his hate. Awake, awake thou tortured Emperour, Looke with the eye of fury on the heauens, Threaten a downefall to this mortall stage, And let it cracke with thee, thy life is runne To the last Scene, thy Tragick part is done. You meager deuils, and infernall hagges, Where are you? Ha? what vanisht? am I found? Did I not feele them teare and rack my flesh, And foreamble it amongst them? heauen and earth I am deluded, what thin ayrie shapes Durst fright my soule, I'le hunt about the world, Search the remotest angles of the earth, Till l'ue found out the climate hold sthese fiends, Or build a bridge by Geometrick skill, Whom lineall extension shall reach forth To the declining borders of the skie, On which I'le leae mortality along, And breake a passage through those brazen walls, From whence Ioue triumphs o're this lower world: Then hauing got beyond the vtmost sphere, Besiege the concaue of this vniuerse: And hunger-starue the gods till they confesse What furies did my sleeping soule oppresse. Ha? did it lighten? or what imble flame Ha's crept into my blood? me thinkes it steales Through my distemper'd ioynts, as if it fear'd To vrge m to inatience. Hamon, accursed Hamon stan my soule Aboue the power of these inunom'd drugges: Am I in hell aliue? the Stygian flames