Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Newton, Thomas · published 1581 · first performed or written 1581 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T11 Siblings, kin and confidants · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T11: sister, brother, love, friend, heart, father, mother, woman, lord, hear.
she runs apace, like one of wit and senses all distract: No Arrow swifter out of Bow: no Ship with Sail full thwacked With wind at will more way can make with motion such she flies As gliding Star whose leams do draw a Furrow long in Skies. As much aghast she trots apace: and now in Camp she stands: Her presence and arrival there hath parted both the Bands. At mother's great entreaty made, the bloody broil is hushed: And where before with goring Glaive the one at tother pushed, With full intent to kill and slay, appeased is now their ire And they well pleased to bend to peace, as she doth them require. The Sword again in sheath is put, that lately out was drawn To pash out Brains of Brother's skull: she ceaseth not to fawn Upon them both, their strife to stint: her grey and hoary hairs, Her Snow white locks with tears besprent in ruthful sort she ●eates. She Motherlike seeks how to link their hearts in one assent, With brinish tears she wets the cheeks of him that's malcontent. That Child that staggering long doth stand, with mother to dispute, May seem unwilling mind to bear to yield to Mother's suit. Against me only turn the force of wreckful Sword and Fire: Let all the Youths with one accord repay to me that hire, That earned I have by due desert: let both the gallant Band Of them that come from Argos soil, and them of Theban Land Come run upon me all at once: let neither friend ne foe Refrain a whit his bloody blade at this my womb to throw. This womb, this womb, wherein I bore these wilful Brethren here Beget by him that was my son, and eke my wedded fere. Dismember this my Body vile: cast all my limbs abroad: I am their mother: child wife throws for them I once abode. You two, my sons, need I to speak, to will you leave your ire? Is't not your parts, in such a case t'accomplish my desire? will you not plight the faithful league of true and perfect love? will you not jointly quarrels all at Mother's suit remove? That this shallbe as I request, come, give me both, your hands While yet they undistained be, and clean from murder stands. What crime you heretofore have done, against your will it was. And all that spot which stains your same, by Fortune came to pass. This heinous Act, this frantic coil you can no wise excuse▪ But wittingly and willingly sound counsel ye refuse. It resteth free within your choice: of these take which ye list: If peace delight for mother's sake this brabbling broil untwist. If such a lewd outrage as this more pleasant seem to be: Behold, the same and greater too ye may commit on me.
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)
Shee runnes apace, like one of wit and ſenſes all diſtract: No Arrow ſwifter out of Bow: no Ship with Sayle ful thwackt With wynd at will more way can make with motion ſuch ſhe flyes As glyding Star whoſe leames do drawe a Furrow longe in Skyes. As much agaſt ſhe trottes apace: and now in Campe ſhe ſtandes: Her preſence and arriuall there hath parted both the Bandes. At mothers great entreaty made, the bloudy broyle is huſht: And where before with goring Glaue the one at thother puſht, With ful entent to kill and ſlay, appeaſ'd is now their yre And they well pleaſd to bend to peace, as ſhe doth them require. The Sword agayne in ſheath is put, that lately out was drawne To paſh out Braynes of Brothers Scull: ſhe ceaſſeth not to fawne Vpon them both, their ſtrife to ſtint: her gray and hoary haires, Her Snow whyte lockes with tears beſprent in ruthful ſort ſhe eates. She Motherlike ſeekes how to linke their hartes in one aſſent, With bryniſh teares ſhe wettes the cheekes of him thats malcontent. That Child that ſtaggryng longe doth ſtand, with mother to diſpute, May ſeeme vnwilling mynd to beare to yeeld to Mothers ſute. AGaynſte mee onely turne the force of wreckful Sword and Fyre: Let all the Youthes with one accord repay to me that hyre, That earnde I haue by due deſerte: let both the gallant Band Of them that come from Argos ſoyle, and them of Thebane Land Come runne vpon me all at once: let neither freend ne foe Refrayne a whit his bloudy blade at this my wombe to throw. This wombe, this wombe, wherein I bare theſe wilful Brethren here Beget by hym that was my ſonne, and eke my wedded fere. Diſmembre this my Body vyle: caſt all my lymmes abrode: I am their mother: child wyfe throwes for them I once abode. You two, my ſonnes, neede I to ſpeake, to wil you leaue your yre? Iſt not your partes, in ſuch a caſe t'accompliſh my deſyre? Wil you not plight the faythful league of true and perfect loue? Wil you not royntly quarrels all at Mothers ſute remoue? That this ſhalbe as I requeſt, come, geue me both, your handes Whyle yet they vndyſtayned be, and cleane from murther ſtandes. What cryme you heretofore haue done, agaynſt your wil it was. And al that ſpot which ſtaynes your ſame, by Fortune came to paſſe. This haynons Act, this franticke coyle you can no wiſe excuſe▪ But wittingly and willingly ſound counſell yee refuſe. It reſteth free within your choyſe: of theſe take which yee liſt: If peace delight for mothers ſake this brabling broyle vntwiſt. If ſuch a lewde outrage as this more pleaſaunt ſeeme to bee: Behold, the ſame and greater too yee may commit on mee.