Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.75 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Lo hear she looketh out, and leans upon the houses frame, That pitchlong hangs with falling sway: hear heap your fierce fast, Whereby the flames that she herself enkyndled, may her waist. Go Iason, go the o●●● rights the winding sheet and grave Make ready for thy sons, as last behoveth him to have, Thy spouse and eke thy father in law that are entombed by me received have the duties that to dead men's ghosts agree. This child hath felt the deadly stroke and lance of fatal knife, And this with wal●some murder like shall lose her tender life. By all the sacred ghosts of heaven, and by thy oft exile, And spousal bed, with breach of love in me did not defile, Now spare, and sa●e the life of him my child and also thine: What ever crime committed is, I grant it to be ours Make me a bloody sacrifice to due deserved death, Take from my sinful guilty head the use of vital breath. Nay sigh thou wilt not have it so as grieves thy pinched mind, Here way to wreck my vengeance ●ell my burning blade shall find. Avaunt, now hence thou peasant proud employ thy busy pain, To reap the fruits of virgin's bed, and cast them of again when mothers they are made. let one for dew revenge suffice. If greedy thirst of hungry hands that still for vengeance cries, Might quenched be with blood of one then ask I none at all, And yet to staunch my hungry grief the number is to small, If only twain I slay, if pledge of love lie secret made, My bowels I'll unbreste and search my womb with poking blade. Now finish out thy deadly deed, that enterprised is, No more entreatance will I use, yet only grant me this, Delay a while his doleful death, that I may take my flight. Lest that mine ●yes which bleeding heart should view that heavy sight. Yet linger eager anguish yet to slay this child of thine. Run not to rash with hasty speed this doleful day is mine: The ●yme that we obtained have of Creon, we enjoy. O vile malicious minded wreache my loathsome life destroy. In craving this thou speakest, that I should show thee some relief, Well goodynough, all this is done: o ruthful gyddye grief, This is the only sacrifice that I can thee provide, Unthankful Iason hither cast thy coyesh looks aside. Lo hear dost thou behold thy wife? thus ever wont I, When murder I had made, to scape, my way doth open lie That I may spring into the skyes● the flying serpents twain submitted have their scaly necks to y●ke of rattling wain, Thou father have thy sons again I in the wandering sky, In nimble wheled waggyn swift will ride advanced high. Go through the ample spaces wide, infect the poisoned ayr●, Bear witness grace of God is none in place of thy repair.
nodes 2633–2723 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 30 of 30 in this edition
Length
497 words · 644 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.751 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
¶Loe heare she loketh out, and leanes vpon the houses frame, That pitchlong hanges wt falling sway: heare heape your fyers fast, Wherby the flames that she her selfe enkyndled, may her wast. ¶Go Iason, go the o ryghtes the wyndynge sheete and graue Make redye for thy sonns, as last behoueth hym to haue, Thy spouse and eke thy father in lawe that are entomde by me Receyued haue the dutyes that to ded mens ghostes agree. Thys chylde hath felte the dedly stroke and launce of fatall knyfe, And thys wyth walsome murther like shall lose her tender lyfe. ¶By all the sacred ghostes of heauen, and by thy ofte exile, And spousall bed, wt breache of loue in me dyd not defyle, Now spare, and sae the lyfe of hym my chylde and also thyne: What euer cryme commytted is, I graunt it to be myne Make me a blodie sacriice to dew deserued death, Take from my synful giltie hed the vse of vitall breath. ¶Naye sith thou wylt not haue it so as greeues thy pynched minde, Here way to wreck my vengeaūce ell my burninge blade shall finde. Anaunt, now hence thou pesant prowd employ thy busye payne, To reape the fruites of virgins bed, and cast them of agayne whē mothers they ar made. ¶let one for dew reuenge suffyce. If gredye thryste of hungry handes that still for vengeaunce cryes, Myght quenched be with blood of one then aske I none at all, And yet to staunche my hongry greefe the number is to small, If onely twayne I slea, if pleadge of loue lye secret made, My bowels Ile vnbreste and searche my wombe wyth pokynge blade. ¶Now fynysh out thy deadly deede, that enterprysed is, No more entreaaunce will I vse, yet onely graunt me thys, Delaye a whyle hys dolefull death, that I may take my flyght. Least that myne yes wt bledyng harte should vew that heauye syght. ¶Yet lynger eger anguyshe yet to slea thys chyld of thyne. Ronne not to rash wyth hastye speede thys dolefull day is myne: The yme that we obteyned haue of Creon, we enioye. ¶O vyle malycyous mynded wreache my lothsome lyfe dystroye. ¶In crauing this thou speakest, that I should shew thee some releefe, Well goodynough, all thys is done: o ruthfull gyddye greefe, Thys is the onely sacryfyce that I can thee prouyde, Unthankfull Iason hether caste thy coyesh lookes asyde. Lo heare dost thou beholde thy wyfe? thus euer wonted I, When murther I had made, to scape, my way doth open lye That I may sprynge into the skyes the flyeng serpentes twayne Submytted haue theyr saly neckes to yke of ratlyng wayne, Thou father haue thy sonnes agayne I in the wandryng skye, In nymble wheled waggyn swyfte will ryde aduaunced hye. ¶Go through the ample spaces wyde, infecte the poysoned ayr, Beare wytnesse grace of God is none in place of thy repayre.