Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Neville, Alexander · published 1581 · first performed or written 1563 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
THe Night is gone: and dreadful day begins at length t'appear: And Phoebus all bedim'de with Clouds, himself aloft doth rear. And gliding forth with deadly hue, a doleful blaze in Skies Doth bear: Great terror & dismay to the beholder's Eyes. Now shall the houses void be seen, with Plague devoured quite? And slaughter that the night hath made, shall day bring forth to light. Doth any man in Princely throne rejoice? O brittle joy, How many ills? how fair a Face? and yet how much annoy In thee doth lurk, and hidden lies? what heaps of endless strife? They judge amiss, that deem the Prince to have the happy life. For as the Mountains huge and high, the blustering winds withstand. And craggy Rocks, the belching floods do dash, and drive fro land: Though that the Seas in quiet are, and calm on every side: So kingdoms great all Winds and Waves of Fortune must abide. How well shunned I my Father dear Polybius Sceptres late? Exiled, bereft of careful fear, in Pilgrim's happy state: I call the Gods to witness this, and Stars that glide in Skies. A Kingdom is befallen to me. I frare lest thereof rise A mischief, (mighty Ioue,) to great I fear, alas I fear lest these my hands have reft the life, or thee my Father dear. Apollo bids me this beware, and yet a mischief more Foretells. Can any greater be than that you told before? Of Father slain by sons own hand? (O thrice unhappy state.) With horror all dismayed I stand in dread of threatened fate. I am ashamed my destinies foul (O Queen) to thunder out, And openly to blaze my fear my trembling mind doth doubt: Yet out it goes. Phoebus me bids my Mother's Bed to fly. As though that I her Son, with her incestuously should lie. This fear, and only this me caused my father's kingdom great For to forsake. I fled not thence when fear the mind doth beat. The restless thought still dreads the thing, it knows can never chance. Such fancies now torment my heart, my safety to advance, And eke thine ever sacred laws (O Nature) for to keep A stately Sceptre I forsook, yet secret fear doth creep Within my breast: and frets it still with doubt and discontent, And inward pangs which secretly my thoughts asunder rent. So though no cause of dread I see, yet fear and dread I all, And scant in credit with myself, my thoughts my mind appall That I cannot persuaded be though reason tell me no, But that the Web is weaving still of my decreed woe. For what should I suppose the cause? a Plague that is so general, And Cadmus country wholly spoils, and spreads itself through all? Should me, amongst so huge a heap of plagued Bodies spare? And we alone amongst the rest reserved to mischiefs are?
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)
THe Night is gon: and dredfull day begins at length t'appeere: And Phoebus all bedim'e with Clowdes, himſelfe aloft doth reere. And glyding forth with deadly hue, a dolefull blaſe in Skies Doth beare: Great terror & diſmay to the beholders Eyes. Now ſhall the houſes voyde bee ſeene, with Plague deuoured quight? And ſlaughter that the night hath made, ſhall day bring forth to light. Doth any man in Princely throne reioyce? O brittle Ioy, How many ills? how fayre a Face? and yet how much annoy In thee doth lurke, and hidden lies? what heapes of endles ſtrife? They iudge amiſſe, that deeme the Prince to haue the happy life. For as the Mountaynes huge and bie, the bluſtring wiudes withſtand. And craggy Rocks, the belching fluds do daſh, and driue fro land: Though that the Seas in quiet are, and calme on euery ſide: So kingdoms great all Windes and Waues of Fortune muſt abide. How well ſhund I my Father deare Polybius Scepters late? Exil'de, bereft of carefull feare, in Pilgrims happy ſtate: I call the Gods to witnes this, and Stars that glyde in Skyes. A Kingdome is befauln to mee. I frare leaſt thereof ryſe A miſchiefe, (mighty Ioue,) to great I feare, alas I feare Leaſt theſe my handes haue ret the life, or thee my Father deare. Apollo byds mee this beware, and yet a miſchiefe more Foretels. Can any greater bee than that you tolde before? Of Father ſlayne by ſonnes own hand? (O thrice vnhappy ſtate.) With horror all diſmaide I ſtand in dred of threatned fate. I am aſhamed my deſtinies fowle (O Queene) to thunder out, And openly to blaſe my feare my trembling minde doth dout: Yet out it goes. Phoebus me bids my Mothers Bed to fly. As though that I her Sonne, with her inceſtuouſly ſhould ly. This feare, and onely this me cauſde my fathers kingdome great For to forſake. I fled not thence when feare the minde doth beat. The reſtleſſe thought ſtill dreds the thing, it knows can neuer chaunce. Such fanſies now torment my heart, my ſafety to aduaunce, And eke thyne euer ſacred lawes (O Nature) for to keepe A ſtately Scepter I forſooke, yet ſecret feare doth creepe Within my breaſt: and frets it ſtill with doubt and diſcontent, And inward pangues which ſecretly my thoughts a ſunder rent. So though no cauſe of dred I ſee, yet feare and dred I all, And ſcant in credit with my ſelfe, my thoughts my minde appall That I cannot perſwaded be though reaſon tell mee no, But that the Web is weauing ſtill of my decreed wo. For what ſhould I ſuppoſe the cauſe? a Plague that is ſo generall, And Cadmus country wholy ſpoyles, and ſpreds it ſelfe through all? Should mee, amongeſt ſo huge a heape of plagued Bodies ſpare? And we alone amongſt the reſt reſerude to miſchiefes are?