Thyestes (Seneca's Second Tragedy) · chunk 19 of 24
Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1560 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
What countenance he then would make, or in what words break out Would first his grief, or how would quake his body round about With sprite amazed sore: of all my work the fruit were this I would him not a miser see, but while so made he is, Behold the temple opened now doth shine with many a light: In glittering gold and purple seat he sits himself upright, And staying up his heavy head with wine upon his hand. He belcheth out, now chief of gods in highest place I stand, And king of kings: I have my wish, and more than I could think. He filled is, he now the wine in silver bowl doth drink And spare it not: there yet remains a worser draft for thee That sprung out of the bodies late of sacrifices three, Which wine shall hide let them withal the hoards be taken up. The father (mingled with the wine,) his children's blood shall sup. That would have drunk of mine. Behold he now begins to strain His voice, and sings, nor yet for joy his mind be may refrain, O beaten bosoms dulled so long with woe, Lay down your cares, at length your griefs relent Let sorrow pass, and all your dread let go, And fellow eke of fearful banishment, Sad poverty and ill in misery The shame of cares, more whence thy fall thou haste, Then whether skills, great hap to him, from high That falls, it is in surety to be placed Beneath, and great it is to him again That priest with storm, or evils feels the smart, Of kingdom lost the payses to sustain With neck unbowed: nor yet detect of heart Nor overcome, his heavy haps always To bear upright but now of careful carks Shake of the showers, and of thy wretched days Away with all the miserable marks. To joyful state return thy cheerful face. Put fro thy mind the old Thyestes hence. It is the wont of wight in woeful case, In state of joy to have no confidence. Though better haps to them returned be, th'afflicted yet to joy it irketh sore. Why call'st thou me aback, and hind'rest me This happy day to celebrate? wherefore Bidst thou me (sorrow) weep without a cause. Who doth me let with flowers so fresh and gay, To deck my hairs? it lets and me withdraws. Down from my head the roses fall away: My moisted hair with ointment over all, With sudden maze stands up in wondrous wise, From face that would not weep the streams do fall. And howling cries amid my words arise. My sorrow yet th'accustomed tears doth love And wretches still delight to weep and cry. Unpleasant plaints it pleaseth them to move: And flourished fair it likes with Tyrian die Their robes to rent, to wail it likes them still For sorrow sends (in sign that woes draw nic)
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)
What countenaunce he then would make, or in what woordes break out Would firſt his griefe, or how would quake his body round about With ſpright amaſed ſore: of all my worke the fruite were this I would him not a miſer ſee, but while ſo made he is, Behold the temple opened now doth ſhyne with many a light: In glitteryng gold and purple ſeate he ſitees hymſelfe vpright, And ſtaying vp his heauy head with wyne vppon his hand. He belcheth out, now chiefe of goddes in higheſt place I ſtand, And king of kinges: I haue my wiſh, and more then I could thinke. He filled is, he now the wyne in ſiluer volle doth drinke And ſpare it not: there yet remaynes a worſer draught for thee That ſprong out of the bodyes late of ſacrifyces three, Which wine ſhall hyde let the withall the hoordes be taken vp. The father (mingled with the wyne,) his childrens bloud ſhall ſup. That would haue bronke of myne. Behold he now beginnes to ſtrayne His voyce, and ſynges, nor yet for ioy his mynde be may refrayne, OBeaten boſomes dullde ſo longe with woe, Laie down your cares, at length your greues relē Let ſorowe paſſe, and all your dread let goe, And fellow eke of fearefull baniſhment, Sad pouertye and ill in miſery The ſhame of cares, more whenſe thy fall thou haſte, Then whether ſkylles, great hap to him, from hye That falles, it is in ferety to be plaſt Beneath, and great it is to him agayne That preſt with ſtorme, or euylls feeles the ſmart, Of kyngedome loſte the payſes to ſuſtaine VVith necke vnbowde: nor yet detect of heart Nor ouercome, his heauy haps alwayes To beare vpright but now of carefull carkes Shake of the ſhowres, and of thy wretched dayes Away with all the myſerable markes. To ioyfull ſtate returne thy chearefull face. Put fro thy mynde the olde Thyeſtes hence. It is the woont of wight in wofull caſe, In ſtate of ioy to haue no confidence. Though better haps to them returned be, Thafflicted yet to ioy it yrketh ſore. VVhy calſt thou me abacke, and hyndreſt me This happy day to celebrate? wherefore Bidſt thou me (ſorrow) wepe without a cauſe. VVho doth me let with flowers ſo freſh and gay, To deeke my hayres? it lets and me withdrawes. Downe from my head the roſes fall away: My moyſted haire with oyntment ouer all, VVith ſodayne maſe ſtandes vp in wondrous wyſe, From face that would not weepe the ſtreames do fall. And howling cryes amid my wordes aryſe. My ſorrowe yet thaccuſtomd teares doth loue And wretches ſtil delyght to weepe and crye. Vnpleaſant playntes it pleaſeth them to moue: And floriſht fayre it likes with Tyrian die Their robes to rent, to waile it likes them ſtill For ſorrow ſendes (in ſigne that woes draw nic)