Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Neville, Alexander · published 1581 · first performed or written 1563 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
FOrtune the guide of humane life doth all things change at will. And stirring still, with restless thoughts our wretched minds doth fill. In vain men strive their states to keep when hideous tempests rise: And blustering winds of dangers deep sets death before their eyes. Who saith he doth her fawning feel? & changeth not his mind, When fickle fight of Fortune's wheel doth turn by course of kind. These grievous plagues from private house to princely Thrones do flow, And oft their minds with cares they sauce and thick upon them strew. Whole heaps of grief and dire debate, a woeful thing to see: A Princely life to miser's state, converted for to be. O OEdipus thy fatal fall, thy dreadful mischiefs right. Thy doleful state, thy misery, thy thrice unhappy plight: These things shall blaze through all the world: what heart may then rejoice At thy distress? I can no more: my tears do stop my voice. But what is he that yonder stamps? and raging puffs and blows. And often shakes his vexed head, some mischief great he knows. Good sir your countenance doth import some great and fearful thing, Tell us therefore (if that you may) what news from Court you bring. When OEdipus accursed wretch, his fatal falls had spied, To hell be damned his wretched soul and on the Gods he cried For vengeance due. And posting fast with frantic mood grisly hue, Unto his dole full Court he went, his thoughts for to pursue. Much like a Lion ramping wild, his furious head that shakes. And roars with thundering mouth alowd, and often gnashing makes, None otherwise this miser fared. A loathsome sight to see. Besides himself for very rage, he still desires to die. And rolling round his wretched Eyes with visage pale and wan: Ten thousand Curses out he powers. Himself the unhappiest man Of all that live, he doth account: as justly he may do. A wretch, a slave, a caitiff vile. The cause of all our woe. And in this case inflamed with spite he cries, he stamps, he raves. And boiling in his secret thoughts, he still desires to have All torments under sun that may his Cares conceived increase. O wretched wight, what should he do? What man may him release? Thus foaming all for rage at mouth, with sighs, and sobs, & groans, His damned head ten thousand times, as oft his wearied bones He beats. And often puffing makes, and roars, and swells, & sweats. And on the Gods for death he calls, for Death he still entreats, Three times he did begin to speak: and thrice his tongue did stay. At length he cried out aloud: O wretch. Away, away. Away thou monstrous Beast (he said:) wilt thou prolong thy life? Nay rather some man strike this breast with struck of bloody knife. Or all you Gods above on me your flaming fierce outcast: And dints of Thunderbolts down throw. This is my prayer last.
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)
FOrtune the guide of humaine lyfe doth al things chaūge at will. And ſtirrīg ſtil, wt reſtles thoughts our wretched mīdes doth fill. In vayn men ſtriue their ſtats to kepe whē hidrous tēpeſts riſe: And bluſtring windes of daungers deepe ſets death before their eyis. Who ſaith he doth her fauning feele? & chaūgeth not his minde, When fickle fight of Fortunes wheele doth turne by courſe of kinde. Theſe greuous plagues frō priuat houſe to princely Thrones do flow, And oft thier minds with cares they ſouſe and thick vpon thē ſtrow. Whole heapes of griefe and dyre debate, a wofull thing to ſee: A Princely lyfe to myſers ſtate, conuerted for to bee. O OEdipus thy fatall fall, thy dreadfull miſchiefs ryght. Thy dolfull ſtate, thy myſery, thy thriſe vnhappy plight: Theſe things ſhall blaſe through all y• world: what heart may thē reioyce At thy diſtreſſe? I can no more: my teares doe ſtop my voyce. But what is he that yonder ſtamps? and raging puffs and blowes. And often ſhakes his vexed head, ſome miſchiefe great hee knowes. Good ſir your countnaunce doth import ſome great and fearefull thing, Tell vs therefore (if that you may) what newes from Court you bring. VVhen OEdipus accurſed wretch, his fatall fals had ſpied, To hell be damnd his wretched ſoule and on the Gods he cryed For vengeaunce due. And poſting faſt with franticke moode grieſly hue, Vnto his dole full Court hee went, his thoughts for to purſue. Much like a Lion ramping wylde, his furtous head that ſhakes. And roares with thundring mouth aſowd, and often gnaſhing makes, None otherwiſe this miſer farde. A lothſome ſight to ſee. Beſides himſelfe for very rage, he ſtill deſires to dye. And rowling round his wretched Eyes with vyſage pale and wan: Ten thouſand Curſers out he powres. Himſelfe the vnhappieſt man Of all that liue, he doth account: as iuſtly he may doe. A wretch, a ſlaue, a caitſe vyle. The cauſe of all our woe. And in this caſe enflamd with ſpight he crtes, he ſtamps, he raues. And boyling in his ſecret thoughts, he ſtill deſyres to haue All torments vnder ſun that may his Cares conceiude encreaſe. O wretched wyght, what ſhould hee doe? What man may him releaſe? Thus foming all for rage at mouth, with ſighes, and ſobs, & grones, His damned head ten thouſand times, as oft his weryed bones He beats. And often puffing makes, and roares, and ſwels, & ſweats. And on the Gods for death hee calles, for Death hee ſtill entreats, Three times he did begin to ſpeake: and thryſe his tong did ſtay. At length he cried out alowd: O wretch. Away, away. Away thou monſtrous Beaſt (he ſayd:) wilt thou prolong thy lyfe? Nay rather ſome man ſtrike this breaſt with ſtrooke of bloudy knyfe. Or all you Gods aboue on mee your flaming fiers outcaſt: And dints of Thunderbolts down throw. This is my prayer laſt.