Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Neville, Alexander · published 1581 · first performed or written 1563 (Annals) tragedy T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.70 · 512 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Well Yet, how doth the sacred flame all shining bright and clear itself on high unto the Skies, with sparkelting flakes uprear? Or doth it oft rebounding back, itself, from Skies unfold? Or all with rumbling roaring noise, about the place is't rolled? Or dimmed with smoke, is't tossed from place, to place, now here, now there? Not one. But diverse, colours mixed the flame doth with it bear. Much like unto the Rainbow, which with sundry painted hues Foreshows unto the husbandmen the weather that ensues. What colour it wants, or what it hath, to me is like uncertain. Now is it black, now blue, now red, and even now again Quite out it is. Yet once again, all fierce it flashing flames: But lo, yet mischiefs more than this, unluckily it frames. The fire quite asunder parts, and flame with flame doth fight. O father I abhor to see, this ugly loathsome sight. The Wine to blood is turned quite, and all the princes head, With thick black clouds encompassed is, with smoke all overspread. O father tell what this portends? What should I tell alas? My mind for fear astonished stands, and trembling cold doth pass Through all my limbs. What shall I say? or where shall I begin? O cruel Plagues, O wreckful Gods, O vengeance due for sin. Some dire and bloody deed (Alas) these hideous signs declare. What's that the Gods would have revealed, and yet do bid beware To utter it? By certain signs their wrath is oft descried: Such signs appear, and yet they seem their fury great to hide. They are ashamed: I wot near what. Come hither, quickly bring Some salt with thee, and it upon the sacrifice go fling. What? are their looks pleasant and mild, and do they gently bide The touching of thy sacred hands? What may this thing betide? The Bull (a wonder great to see) his head on high he lifts And turned still unto the East, from thence it always shifts, Still loathing as he seems to me, of heaven to see the light, Oft scowling with his blearing eyes with ghastly ruthful sight. But doth one blow then drive to ground, or more the one they have? The Heifer as it seemed, inflamed with courage stout and brave Upon the mortal Blade did rush, and there herself destroys: When out the blood it foaming spouts, and mounts unto the Skies. The brawny Bull twice stroke or thrice, with groveling groaning tires, And toiling up and down he moils. And still to live desires. And yet at length with much ado, his brutish breath expires. What? doth the wound wide open gape, or is it closed up? Or doth the deepness of the hole, the blood in soaking sup? Out of the wounded Heifers breast Black bluish waters rush. As for the Bull, but little blood, out of his wounds doth gush. t back rebounds, and from his Mouth & Eyes by streames oth flow. But what these dreadful signs portend the Gods alone do know.
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Well Yet, how doth the ſacred flame all ſhining bright and cleare It ſelfe on high vnto the Sktes, with ſparkelting flakes vreare? Or doeh it oft rebounding backe, it ſelfe, from Skyes vnfould? Or all with rumbling roring noyſe, about the place iſt rould? Or dim'd with ſmoke, iſt toſt from place, to place, now heere, now theare? Not one. But diuerſe, colours mixt the flame doth with it beare. Much like vnto the Rainbow, which with ſundry paynted hues Foreſhewes vnto the huſbandmen the weather that enſues. What colour it wants, or what it hath, to me is like vncertayne. Now is it black, now blue, now red, and euen now agayne Quight out it is. Yet once agayn, all fierce it flaſhing flames: But lo, yet miſchiefs more then this, vnluckely it frames. The fier quight a ſunder parts, and flame with flame doth fight. O father I abhorre to ſee, this vgly lothſome ſight. The Wyne to blud is turned quight, and all the Prynces hed, With thicke black clouds encōpaſt is, with ſmoke all ouerſpred. O father tell what this portends? What ſhould I tell alas? My mynde for feare aſtonied ſtands, and trembling cold doth pas Through all my lims. What ſhall I ſay? or where ſhall I begin? O cruell Plagues, O wrekfull Gods, O vengeaūce due for ſin. Some dyre and blouddy deed (Alas) theſe hydeous ſignes declare. Whats that the Gods would haue reuealde, and yet doe bid beware To vtter it? By certaine ſignes their wrath is oft deſcride: Such ſignes appeere, and yet they ſeeme their fury great to hide. They are aſhamde: I wot nere what. Come hither, quickly bring Some ſalt with thee, and it vpon the ſacrifice goe fling. What? are their lookes pleaſant and milde, and doe they gently bide The touching of thy ſacred hands? What may this thing betide? The Bull (a wonder great to ſee) his head on hie he lifts And turned ſtill vnto the Eaſt, from thence it alway ſhifts, Still lothing as hee ſeemes to me, of heauen to ſee the light, Oft ſcouling with his blearing eyes with gaſtely ruthfull ſight. But doth one blow thē driue to groūd, or more the one they haue? The Heifer as it ſeemde, enflamd with courage ſtoute and braue Vpon the mortall Blade did ruſh, and there hirſelfe deſtries: When out the bloud it foming ſpoutes, and mounts vnto the Skies. The brawny Bull twiſe ſtroke or thriſe, with groueling groning tyres, And toyling vp and down he moyles. And ſtill to liue deſires. And yet at length with much ado, his brutiſh breath expiers. What? doth the wounde wide open gape, or is it cloſed vp? Or doth the deepnes of the hole, the bloud in ſoking ſup? Out of the wounded Heifers breaſt Black bluiſh waters ruſh. As for the Bull, but little bloud, out of his wounds doth guſh. t back rebounds, and from his Mouth & Eyes by ſtreames oth flow. But what theſe dreadfull ſignes portend the Gods aloane doc know.