May, Thomas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1627 [1627-1631] (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
But from this field of slaughter I Have gathered up a treasury, As dead men's limbs wet in the rain, Cold gelled tongues and parched brain, The slime that on black knuckles lies, Shrunk sinews, and congealed eyes, Bit from their fingers nails over grown, And from young chins pulled springing down. Flesh bit by Wolves I took away, And robbed the vulture of her prey. Where Thebans funeral piles had made, I did the mourning fire invade, And there black rags with ashes filled, And coals on which their fat distilled, I gathered up, and took from thence Half-burnt bones, and Frankincense, And snatched the fatal kindling brand From out the weeping parents hand. Once more let's trot the fields about To find a fresher carcase out. And speak a charm that may affright All pious love from hence tonight, Lest we by funeral rites do lose What Creon's cruelty bestows. By Creon's trembling watch I bore This new slain carcase, but before I brought him thence, I gripped him round. The fillets of his lungs are sound. His vitals all are strong and whole To entertain the wretched soul, Whom forced furies must affright Back from hell to us tonight. You wise interpreters of fate, that look With just contempt down on that small allowance Of knowledge, which weak human breasts possess. Whose subtle eyes can penetrate the depth Of dark Avernus' secrets, and from thence Enforce an answer from th' obeying finds. Let me from your deep skill be guided now To know th' assurance of my future state: It is a King that craves your aid, a King Whose power has given your art this furtherance, By my command these carcases have lain Unburied here for you to practise on. If Creon then deserve it at your hands, Resolve me of my fate. You have your wish. This carcase shall relate it; do not fear To hear him speak: what herbs have you prepared? I here have gathered, all in one, The poisonous jelly of the moon, Mixed with sulphur of the night, leopard's bane, and Aconite, Dew gathered, ere the morn arose, From nightshade, henbane, Cypress boughs. 'Mongst living creatures I have sought, And from each baneful brood have brought whate'er could aid to our work give, Skins stripped from horned snakes alive, The Lynxes bowels, blood of frogs, The screech-owls eggs, the foam of Dogs, The wings of bats, with dragon's eyes, The Crows black head, the stone that lies In Eagles nests, and pebbles round, That when the Ocean ebbs are found: Enough; but I to add to these so known And vulgar helps of our great art, have gone, And found such simples, whose concealed aid No witch ere used, or trembling god obeyed. Thessalia's valleys, Colchos famed shore, Nor Libyan squalid sands with Gorgon's gore Bedewed and sprinkled, ne'er produced juice That could so much enthrall the deities. When first I plucked them in yond gloomy vale The furies shriek, and Hecate grew pale, As loath to have (in that abhorred ground) The power of simples, and their weakness found.
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)
But from this field of ſlaughter I Haue gather'd vp a treaſury, As dead mens limms wet in the raine, Cold gelled tongues and parched braine, The ſlime that on blacke knuckles lyes, Shrunke ſinnews, and congealed eyes, Bitt from their fingers nailes ore growne, And from young chinns pull'd ſpringing downe. Fleſh bit by Wolues I tooke away, And robb'd the vultur of her prey. Where Thebans funerall pyles had made, I did the mourning fire inuade, And there blacke raggs with aſhes fill'd, And coales on which their fat diſtill'd, I gather'd vp, and tooke from thence Halfe-burnt bones, and Frankincenſe, And ſnatch'd the fatall kindling brand From out the weeping parents hand. Once more lett's trott the fields about To finde a freſher carcaſſe out. And ſpeake a charme that may affright All pious loue from hence to night, Leſt we by funerall rites do looſe What Creons cruelty beſtowes. By Creons trembling watch I bore This new ſlaine carcaſſe, but before I brought him thence, I grip'd him round. The filletts of his lungs are ſound. His vitalls all are ſtrong and whole To entertaine the wretched ſoule, Whom forced furies muſt affright Backe from hell to vs to night. You wiſe interpreters of fate, that looke With iuſt contempt downe on that ſmall allowance Of knowledge, which weake human breaſts poſſeſſe. Whoſe ſubtle eyes can penetrate the depth Of darke Auernus ſecrets, and from thence Enforce an anſwer from th' obeying finds. Let me from your deepe skill be guided now To know th' aſſurance of my future ſtate: It is a King that craues your aide, a King Whoſe power has giu'n your art this furtherance, By my command theſe carcaſſes haue lyen Vnburled heere for you to practiſe on. If Creon then deſerue it at your hands, Reſolue me of my fate. You haue your wiſh. This carcaſſe ſhall relate it; do not feare To heare him ſpeake: what herbs haue you prepar'd? I heere haue gather'd, all in one, The poiſonous gelly of the moone, Mixt with ſulphur of the night, Libbards bane, and Aconite, Dew gather'd, ere the morne aroſe, From night-ſhade, henbane, Cypreſſe boughs. 'Mongſt liuing creatures I haue ſought, And from each banefull brood haue brought What ere could aide to our worke giue, Skinns ſtript from horned ſnakes aliue, The Lynxes bowells, blood of froggs, The Schreichowles eggs, the foame of Doggs, The wings of Batts, with Dragons eyes, The Crowes blacke head, the ſtone that lyes In Eagles neſts, and pebbles round, That when the Ocean ebbs are found: Enough; but I to adde to theſe ſo knowne And vulgar helps of our great art, haue gone, And found ſuch ſimples, whoſe concealed aide No witch ere vſ'd, or trembling god obey'd. Theſſaliaes valleys, Colchos famed ſhore, Nor Libyan ſquallid ſands with Gorgont gore Bedw'd and ſprinkled, nere produced iuice That could ſo much enthrall the deityes. When firſt I pluck'd them in yon gloomy vale The furies ſhreik'd, and Hecate grew pale, As loath to haue (in that abhorred ground) The power of ſimples, and their weakeneſſe found.