Hippolytus (Seneca's Fourth Tragedy) · chunk 27 of 30
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1567 (Annals) tragedy T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.84 · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
If still thou keep thy grudge, why is the Face with seats besprent? Because I slew him, not because I lost him, I repent. WHat heap of haps do tumble upside down Th'estate of man? less raging Fortune flies On little things: less leaming lights are thrown By hand of Ioue, on that which lower lies. The homely couch safe merry hearts do keep: The Cottage base doth give the Golden sleep. The lofty turret's top that cleaves the cloud Withstands the sturdy storms of Southern wind, And Boreas boisterous blasts with threatening loud Of blustering Corus shedding showers by kind. The reeking Dales do seldom noyance take, Biding the brunt of lightnings slashing flake. Th'advanced crest of Caucasus the great Did quake with bolt of lofty thundering Ioue: When he from clouds his thunder dints did beat, Dame Cybel's Phrygian frith did trembling move: King love in haughty heaven full sore affright The nighest things with weapons doth he smite. The ridges low of Vulgar people's house Stricken with storms do never greatly shake: His kingdoms coast Ioues thundering thumps do souse: With wavering wings that hour his flight doth take Nor flitting Fortune with her tickle wheel Let's any wight assured joy to feel. Who in the World beholds the stars full bright, And cheerful day forsaking ghastly Death, His sorrowful return with groaning sprite He rues, sith it deprived his Son of breath He seeth his lodging in his court again, More doleful is then sharp Auernus pain. O. PALLAS unto whom all Athens land Due homage oweth, because that THESEUS thine Among us worldly Wights again doth stand, And seeth the Heavens upon himself to shine. And passed hath the perilous miry Mud Of stinking Stygian Fen, and filthy Flood. Unto thy ravening uncles dreary gail O Lady chaste not one Ghost dost thou owe, The Hellick Tyrant knows his perfect tale. Who from the Court this shrieking shrill doth throw? What mischief comes in frantic Phaedra's brain With naked Sword thus running out amain. THrough pierced with pangs of pensiveness what fury pricks thy brain? What means this bloody blade? what means this shrieking out amain? And languishing upon the Corpse which was thy malice made? O tamer of the wrestling waves me, me, do thou invade. The Monstrous hags of Marble Seas to ramp on me send out, whatever Thetis low doth keep with folding arms about, Or what the Ocean Seas aloof embrace with winding wave: O Theseus that to thine allies dost still thyself behave So Currishly, O thou that for thy loving Friends avail Dost never yet return: thy Son and Father do bewail Thy passport brought by death, and blood, thy stock thou dost destroy, By love or hatred of thy wife thou workest still annoy: O sweet Hippolytus thus I behold thy battered face, And I it is, I wretch (alas) that brought thee to this case. What Scinis forced thy limbs so torn his snatching boughs to feel? Or what Procrustes racked and rent thee stretched on bed of Steel?
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
If ſtil thou keepe thy grudge, why is the Face wt ſeates beſpre Becauſe I ſlue him, not becauſe I loſt him, I repent. WHat heape of happes do tumble vpſyde downe Th'eſtate of man? leſſe raging Fortune flies On little things: leſſe leaming lightes are throwne By hand of Ioue, on that which lower lies. The homely couch ſafe merry hartes do keepe: The Cotage baſe doth giue the Golden ſleepe. The lofty Turrets top that cleaues the cloude VVithſtandes the ſturdy ſtormes of Southren wynde, And Boreas boyſterous blaſtes with threatning loud Of bluſteryng Corus ſhedding ſhowres by kinde. The ring Dales do ſeldome noiance take, Byding the brunt of Lightninges ſlaſhing flake. Th'aduaunced creſt of Caucaſus the great Did quake with bolt of lofty thundring Ioue: VVhen he from cloudes his thunder dintes did beat, Dame Cybels Phrygian fryth did trembling moue: King loue in hawty heauen ful ſore affright The nigheſt thinges with weapons doth he ſmyght. The ridges low of Vulgar peoples houſe Striken with ſtormes do neuer greatly ſhake: His Kingdomes coaſt Ioues thundring thumpes do ſouſe: VVith wauering winges that houre his fligth doth take Nor flitting Fortune with her tickle wheele Lets any wight aſſured ioy to feele. VVho in the VVorld beholds the Statrs ful bright, And chereful day forſaking gaſtly Death, His ſorrowfull returne with groning ſpright He rewes, ſith it depriude his Sonne of breath He ſeeth his lodging in his court agayne, More doleful is then ſharpe Auernus payne. O. PALLAS vnto whom all Athens land Due homage oweth, becauſe that THESEVS thine Among vs worldly Wights againe doth ſtand, And ſeeth the Heauens vpon himſelfe to ſhine. And paſſed hath the parlous myrie Mud Of ſtinking Stygian Fen, and filthy Flud. Vnto thy rauening Vncles dreery Gaile O Lady chaſte not one Ghoſt doſt thou owe, The Hellick Tyrant knovves his perfect tale. Who from the Court this ſhriking ſhrill doth throwe? What miſchiefe comes in frantick PHAEDRAS brayne With naked Svvord thus running out amayne. THrough pierſt with pangues of penſtueneſſe what fury prickes thy brayne? What meanes this bloudy blade? what meanes this ſhriking out amayne? And langiſhing vpon the Corps which was thy mallice made? O tamer of the wraſtling waues mee, mee, doe thou inuade. The Monſtrous hags of Marble Seas to rampe on mee ſend out, What euer Thetis low doth keepe with folding armes about, Or what the Ocean Seas alofe embrace with winding waue: O Theſeus that to thine alies doſt ſtill thy ſelfe behaue So Curriſhly, O thou that for thy louing Friends auayle Doſt neuer yet returne: thy Sonne and Father doe bewayle Thy paſport brought by death, and bloud, thy ſooke thou doſt deſtroy, By loue or hatred of thy wife thou workeſt ſtill annoy: O ſweete Hippolytus thus I behold thy battred face, And I it is, I wretch (alas) that brought thee to this caſe. What Scinis forſt thy lims ſo torne his ſnatching boughes to feele? Or what Procruſtes rackt and rent thee ſtreacht on bed of Steele?