Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Neville, Alexander · published 1581 · first performed or written 1563 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Confess thou slave, or else I swear, thou that constrained be In deed I do remember once, an Infant young by me, Delivered was unto this Man: but well I wot in vain, I know he could not long endure, nor yet alive remain. Long since he is dead (I know it well) he lives not at this day. Eo? God forbid, he lives no doubt, and long may live I pray. Why dost thou say the child is dead, that thou this man didst give? With Irons sharp his feet were board, I know he could not live, For of the sore a swelling rose, I saw the blood to gush From out of both the wounds: and down by powering streams to flush. Now stay (O king) no farther now, you know almost the troth. Whose child was it? tell me forthwith. I dare not for mine oath. Thine Oath thou slave? Some fire here. I'll charm thine oath and thee, With fire & flames: except forthwith thou tell the troth to me. O pardon me, though rade I seem, I seek nor to withstand name? Your grace's mind: (most noble king.) My life is in your hand. Tell me the troth, what child, & whose, What was his Mother's Born of your wife. O gaping earth devour my body quite: Or else thou God that ruler art of houses void of light, To Hell my Saul with thunder bolts to Hell my Soul down drive. Where grisly Ghosts in darkness deep, and endless pain do live. For thee alone, these Plagues do rage. For thee these mischiefs rise. For thee, the Earth lies desolate. For thee thou wretch the Skies Infected are. For thee, for thee, and for the filthy lust, A hundred thousand guiltless men, consumed are to dust. O people throw: cast heaps of stones upon this hateful head: Bath all your swords within my breast: you furies overshed My restless thoughts, with raging woes and plunged in seas of pain. Let me those horrors still endure, which damned souls sustain. You citizens of Stately Thebes vex me with torments dile. Let Father, Son, and Wife, and all with vengeance me pursue. Let those that for my sake alone with plagues tormented be Throw darts, cast stones, fling fire and flames, and tortures all on me. O shame: O slander of the World: O hate of Gods above. Confounder O of Nature thou to laws of sacred love, Even from thy birth an open Foe. Thou didst deserve to die As soon as thou wast born. Go, go, unto the Court thee high, There with thy Mother (slave) triumph rejoice as thou mayst do. Who hast thy house increased with unhappy children so. Make haste with speed, away, some thing thy mischiefs worthy find. And on thyself wreck all the spite of thy revenging mind.
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)
Confeſſe thou ſlaue, orels I ſweare, thou that conſtrayned bee In deede I doe remembre once, an Infant yong by mee, Delyuered was vnto this Man: but well I wot in vayne, I know he could not long endure, nor yet alyue remayne. Long ſince he is dead (I know it well) hee liues not at this day. Eo? God ſorbid, he liues no doubt, and long may liue I pray. Why doſt thou ſay the child is dead, that thou this man didſt giue? With Irons ſharp his feete were board, I know he could not liue, For of the ſore a ſwelling roſe, I ſaw the bloud to guſh From out of both the wounds: and down by powring ſtreames to fluſh. Now ſtay (O king) p farther now, you know almoſt the troth. Whoſe child was tell e forthw. I dare not for mine Othe. Thine Oth thou ſlaue? Some fyre here. Ile charme thine Othe and thee, With fyre & flames: except forthwith thou tell the troth to mee. O pardon me, though rade I ſeeme, I ſeeke nor to withſtand name? Your graces minde: (moſt noble king.) My life is in your hand. Tell me y• troth, what child, & whoſe, What was his Mothers Born of your wyfe. O gaping earth deuour my body quight: Or elſe thou God that art of houſes voyde of light, To Hell my Saule with thunder boltes to Hell my Soule down dryue. Where grieſly Ghoſts in darke neſſe deepe, and endleſſe payne do lyue. For thee alone, theſe Plagues doe rage. For thee theſe miſchiefes ryſe. For thee, the Earth lyes deſolate. For thee thou wretch the Skies Infected are. For thee, for thee, and for the ſlithy luſt, A hundred thouſand guiltleſſe men, conſumed are to duſt. O people throw: caſt heapes of ſtones vpon this hatefull Hed: Bath all your ſwords within my breſt: you furies ouerſhed My reſtleſſe thoughts, with raging woes and plungde in ſeas of pain. Let mee thoſe hōrrors ſtill endure, which damned ſoules ſuſtain. You citizens of Stately Thebes vex me with torments dile. Let Father, Son, and Wyfe, and all with vengeance me rſue. Let thoſe that for my ſake alone with plagues bee Throw dars, caſt ſtones, fling fer▪ and ſlames, and tortures all on mee. O ſhame: O ſlaunder of the World: O hate of Gods aboue. Confounder O of Nature thou to lawes of ſacred loue, Euen from thy birth an open Foe. Thou didſt deſerue to dye As ſoone as thou waſt born. Go, go, vnt the Court thee hye, There with thy Mother (ſlaue) triumph reioyce as thou maiſt do. Who haſt thy houſe encreaſed with vnhappy children ſo. Make haſte with ſpeede, away, ſome thing thy miſchiefs worthy finde. And on thy ſelfe wrecke all the ſpight of thy reuenging minde.