Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.69 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
Let Fortune fight against my case as list her eluysh will, Yet never shall it grieve my heart, repent my deed I nill, That I should for so many kings their reling honour save, The guerdon due that I for this my crime commit must have, It lieth Creon in thy hand, if thus it liketh thee, Condemn my guilty gohste to death, but render first to me, My fault that forced me offend, than Creon grant I this, Receiving Iason (cause of crime) I guilty did amiss. Thou knowest that I was such an one when cowering low I lay, Before thy feet in humble wise and did entreating pray, Thy gracious goodness me to grant some succour at thy hand. For me a wreache and wretched babes I ask within this land Some cottage base, in outcast hole, some couching corner vile, If from the town thou drive us out to wander in exile, Then some bye place aloof within this realm let us obtain. How I am none that tyrant like with churlish sceptre reign, Nor proudly or dysdaynfullye, with haughty courage high, with vaunting foot do stamp them down that undertroden lie, And daunted are in careful bale, this plainly doth disclose, In that to me of late I such a son in law have chose, Who was a wandering pylgrim poor, with sore afflyctyons' freight, dismayed with terror of his foe, that lay for him in weight. Because Acastus having got the crown of Thessail land, Requireth in thy guilty blood to bathe his wreakful hand. He doth bewail that good old man his fyble father slain, Whom weight of years with bowing back to stoop allow constrained The godly minded sisters, all yblind with misty vale And cloaking colour of thy craft durst vent'rously assail. That mount of myfcheife merueylus, to mangle●●eaw, and cut, Their fathers dear unjointed lym● In boiling cauldron put. But for thy open gyl●ynes if thou can purge the same, Straight Iason can discharge himself from blot of guilty blame. His gentle hands were never stained with gore of any blood. Aloof from your conspiracy refraining far he stood. His harmless hands put not in ●r● with gory tools to mell. But thou that seest on fire first th●se mighty myscheifs fell, Whom shameless woman's wil●e brain● and manly stomach stout Do ●et a gog, for to a tempt to bring all ills about. And no regard at all thou hast, how scunding trump of fame With ringing blast of good or ill do blow abroad thy name: Get out and cleanse my wyled realms awaye togther bare Thine herbs unmild of sorcery, my Lyeges rid fro fear. Transport thee to some other land, whereas thou may at ease With odious noyse of diuelish charm, the troubled God's disease.
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Let Fortune fyght agaynst my case as lyst her eluysh wyll, Yet neuer shall it greue my harte, repent my dede I nyll, That I should for so manye kynges theyr relynge honour saue, The guerden due that I for thys my cryme cōmyt must haue, It lyeth Creon in thy hande, if thus it lyketh thee, Condemne my gyltye gohste to death, but render fyrste to mee, My fault that forced me offende, then Creon graunt I thys, Receauyng Iasn (cause of cryme) I gyltye dyd amysse. Thou knowest that I was such an one when courynge low I laye, Before thy fete in humble wyse and dyd intreatynge praye, Thy gracyous goodnes me to graunt some succour at thy hande. For me a wreache and wreached babes I aske wythin thys lande Some cotage base, in outcast hole, some couchyng corner vyle, If from the towne thou dryue vs out to wander in exile, Then some bye place aloofe wythin this realme let vs obtayne. ¶How I am none that tyrant lyke wyth churlysh septer raygne, Nor proudly or dysdaynfullye, with hawtie corage hye, with vaūting foote do stamp thē downe that vndertroden lye, And daunted are in carefull bale, thys playnlye dothe dysclose, In that to me of late I suche a sonne in lawe haue chose, Who was a wandryng pylgrim poore, wyth sore afflyctyons fraight, Dysmayde wyth terrour of hys foe, that laye for hym in wayght. Because Acastus hauynge got the crowne of Thessail lande, Requyreth in thy gylty blood to bathe hys wreackfull hande. He dothe bewayle that good olde man hys fyble father slayne, Whom wayght of yeres wyth bowing back to stoope alow constraine The godlye mynded systers, all yblynde wyth mystye vale And clokyng colour o thy crafte durste ventrusly asayle. That mount of myfcheife merueylus, to mangle eaw, and cut, Theyr fathers dere vnioynted lym In boylyng caldon put. But for thy open gylynes if thou can purge the same, Strayght ason can dyscharge hym selfe from blot of gyltye blame. His gentle handes were neuer staind wyth gore of any blood. Aloofe from your conpyracie refraynyng far he stood. Hys harmelesse handes put not in r wyth gorye tooles to mell. But thou that sest on fyer fyrste thse myghty myscheifs fell, Whō shamelesse womans wile brain and manly stomack stoute Doe et a gog, for to a tempt to brynge all ils aboute. And no regarde at all thou hast, how scundyng trumpe of fame Wyth ryngyng blast of good or ill do blowe abrode thy name: Get out and clense my yled realme awaye togther bare Thyne herbes vnmylde of sorcery, my Lyeges ryd fro feare. Transporte thee to some other lande, wheras thou may at ease With odious noys of diulish charme, the troubled Gods dysease.