Hippolytus (Seneca's Fourth Tragedy) · chunk 21 of 30
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1567 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
No worldly wight (save I myself alone) the same shall hear, Art thou afraid to tell it in thy husbands bashful ear? Speak out, thy secrets shroud I shall within my faithful breast. What thou would other to conceal, keep thou it first in rest. Thou shalt not suffered be to die: From him that wisheth Death, Death never can be separate. The crime that loss of breath Ought to revenge, show it to me. Forsooth because I live. Alas do not my trilling tears thy stony stomach grieve? It is the sweetest death, when one doth loathsome life forsake, Bereft of such as should for him most woeful weeping make. Still stands she mum? the crooked, old, ill-favoured, hobbling Trot, Her Nurse for stripes and clogging bands shall utter every jot, That she forbid her hath to tell: in iron chains her bind, Let tawing whips wring out perforce the secrets of her mind: Now I myself will speak: stay yet. Why dost thou ne asis From me thy weeping Countenance? thy tears why dost thou hide That gushing sudden from thine eyes stream down thy cheeks apace & Why hidest thou thy flowing floods with Coat before thy Face? Thee, thee, Creator of the Heavens to witness I do call, And thee O glittering fiery gleed of Crystal Sky with all, And Phoebus thou from whom at first our royal Race hath run. With fawning face & flattering words in suit I was not won. For naked sword, & thundering threats, appalled was I not: My bruised bones abode the blow, and stripes when sore he smote: This blemish black of foul defame my blood shall purge again. Declare what villain is he that our honour so doth slain? Whom least ye would mistrust. To know who 'tis, full sore I long. This Sword will tell, which sore affright when people thick in throng Resorted fast, the lecher vile for haste did leave behind, Because the people pressing fast he dreaded in his mind: Ah out alas, O woe is me, what villainy see I? Alas what uncouth Monster foul of mischief I espy? Behold the royal ivory engraved and purired fine, Embossed with golden studs, upon th'enameled Hast doth shine, (The jewel of Actea land) but whither fled is he? With light Heel running sore dismayed these servants did him see? O sacred holiness, O Ioue between whose mighty hands The Marble pole with weltering sway in course directed stands, And thou that second sceptre wields in foamy fighting wave, Why doth this cursed brood with such this wicked vengeance rave? Hath he been fostered up in Greece? or craggy Taurus wild Among hard rugged Rocks, and Caves, some savage Scythian Child? Or else in brutish Colchis I'll by Desert Phasis flood? Cat after kind he is, and will th'unkindly Bastard blood Return unto his kindreds course, whence first his line he claims.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
No worldly wight (ſaue I my ſelfe alone) the ſame ſhall heare, Art thou affrayd to tel it in thy huſbandes baſhful eare? Speake out, thy ſecretes ſhrowd I ſhall within my faythful breſt. What thou would other to conceale, kepe thou it firſt in reſt. Thou ſhalt not ſuffred be to die: From him that wiſheth Death, Death neuer can be ſeperate. The crime that loſſe of breath Ought to reuenge, ſhew it to me. Forſooth becauſe I liue. Alas do not my trilling teares thy ſtony ſtomacke grieue? It is the ſweeteſt death, when one doth lothſome life forſake, Bereft of ſuch as ſhould for him moſt woful weeping make. Stil ſtandes ſhe mum? ye croked, old, ilfauord, hoblinge Trotte, Hir Nurſe for ſtripes and clogging bandes ſhall vtter euery iotte, That ſhee forbid her hath to tell: in yron chaynes her bynd, Let tawing whips wring out perforce the ſecrets of her mynd: Now I my ſelfe wil ſpeak: ſtay yet. Why doſt thou ne aſis From me thy weeping Countenance? thy teares why doſt thou hide That guſhing ſodaine frō thine eyes ſtreame downe thy cheekes apace & Why hideſt thou thy flowing floudes with Coate before thy Face? Thee, thee, Creator of the Neauens to witneſſe I doe call, And thee O glittering fiery glede of Chriſtall Sky with all, And Phoebus thou from whom at firſt our royall Race hath roon. With fawning face & flattring words in ſuite I was not woon. For naked ſword, & thundring thres, appauled was I not: My bruſed bones abode the blowe, and ſtripes when ſore he ſmote: This blemiſh black of foule defame my bloud ſhall purge agayne. Declare what villaine is he y• our honour ſo doth ſlayne? Whom leaſt yee would miſtruſt. To know who tis, ful ſore I long▪ This Sword wil tel, which ſore afright when people thick in thrōg Reſorted faſt, the Leacher vile for haſt did leaue behinde, Becauſe the people preaſing faſt he dreeded in his minde: Ah out alas, O woe is mee, what villany ſee I? Alas what vncouth Monſter fowle of miſchiefe I eſpy? Beholde the royall Iuory engrau'de and purired fine, Emboaſt with golden ſtuddes, vpon th'enameld Haſt doth ſhine, (The Iewell of Actea lande) but whyther fled is hee? With light Heele running ſore diſmaide theſe ſruants did him ſee? O ſacred holineſſe, O Ioue betweene whoſe mighty hands The Marble Poale with weltring ſway in courſe directed ſtands, And thou that ſecond Sceper weilds in fomy fighting waue, Why doth this curſed broode with ſuch this wicked vengeance raue? Hath he bene foſtred vp in Greece? or craggy Taurus wilde Among hard rugged Rocks, and Caues, ſome ſauage Scythian Childe? Or elſe in brutiſh Colchis Ile by Deſart Phaſis flood? Cat after kinde hee is, and will th'unkindly Baſtard blood Returne vnto his kinreds courſe, whence firſt his ligne hee clames.