Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs · 523 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
And never any guilt as yet by wrath inflamed I tried. But now the perilous poisoning wound of Cupid's piercing dart, Doth boil and rage within my breast, it rankles at my heart. But how could Iason it redress, whom fortune's froward will Hath yield unto another's hand, at lust to save or spill? O rage of rusty cankered mind, this slanderous talk amend, If Fortune's grace will grant it thus, let him unto his end Live still my Iason as he was: but if not Iason mine, Yet caitiff suffer Iason live, though Iason none of thine: Who being mindful still of us some favour let him show, For these good turns that our good will could erst on him bestow: King Creon is in all the fault, and only worthy blame, Who puffed up with Sceptre proud, unable for to frame His tickle mind to modesty, made breach twixt us again, Whom Hymen's bands, and link of love had made but one of twain, By whom eke from her tender brats the mother (wretch) is drawn, He breaks the vow, that gauged is with such a precious pawn. Seek after such a villain's blood, in daunting pangs of smart Let him alone be surely doused, such is his due desert, A dungell hept of Cinders burned his palace make I shall, That Malea where in winding straits, the lingering ships due crawl, Shall gaze on smouldering turrets tops turmoiled in crackling flame. For godsake (Madame) I you pray your tongue to silence frame. Eke hide your privy languishing and grief in secret vain: Who with a modest mind abides the Spurs of pricking pain, And suffereth sorrows patiently, may it repay again. Who bears a privy grudge in breast, and keeps his malice close, When least suspection is thereof, may most annoy his Foes. He loseth opportunity who vengeance doth require, That shows by open sparks the flame the heat of kindled fire. Small is the gripe of grief that can to reason's lore obey, And sneaking down with stealing steps can slily slip away. But they that thoroughly soused are with showers of greater pain, Can not digest such corseys sharp, but cast it up again: Fain would I give them trouncing girds. Good daughter dear assuage Th'unbridled sway, and boiling heat of this thy giddy rage: Scant mayst thou purchase quietness, although thou hold thy tongue. The valiant heart dame Fortune yet durst never harm with wrong, But dreading dastards down she drives. It any courage dure, And harboured be in noble breast, now put the same in ure. The show of sturdy valiant heart, at any time doth shine. No hope doth in adversity thy way to scape assign. He that hath none affiance left, nor any hope at all. Yet let him not mistrust the luck of aught that may befall. Thy Country clean hath cast thee of, to let thee sink or swim, As for thy husband Iason be, there is no trust in him: Of all the wealth, and worldly muck wherewith thou didst abound: No portion remains at all, whereby some help is found.
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)
And neuer any guilt as yet by wrath inflamde I tryed. But now the parlous poyſning wound of Cupids percing dart, Doth boyle and rage within my breaſt, it ranckles at my hart. But how could Iaſon it redreſſe, whom fortunes froward wyll Hath yeelde vnto anothers hande, at luſt to ſaue or ſpill? O rage of ruſty cancred minde, this ſclaundrous talke amende, If Fortunes grace will graunt it thus, let him vnto his ende Lyue ſtill my Iaſon as he was: but if not Iaſon myne, Yet caytife ſuffer Iaſon liue, though Iaſon none of thyne: Who being mindefull ſtill of vs ſome fauour let him ſhowe, For theſe good turnes that our good will could earſt on him beſtowe: King Creon is in all the fault, and onely worthy blame, Who puffed vp with Scepter proude, vnable for to frame His tickle minde to modeſty, made breach twixt vs agayne, Whom Hymens bands, and link of loue had made but one of twayne, By whom eke from her tender brats the mother (wretch) is drawne, Hee breakes the vowe, that gaged is with ſuch a precious pawne. Seeke after ſuch a villaynes bloud, in daunting pangs of ſmart Let him alone bee ſurely dowſt, ſuch is his due deſart, A dungell hept of Cinders burnt his Pallayce make I ſhall, That Malea where in winding ſtrights, the lingring ſhips due crall, Shall gaſe on ſmolthring turrets tops turmoylde in crackling flame. For godſake (Madame) I you pray your tongue to ſilence frame. Eke hyde your priuy languiſhing and greefe in ſecret vayne: Who with a modeſt minde abides the Spurs of pricking payne, And ſuffereth ſorrowes paciently, may it repay agayne. Who beares a priuy grudge in breaſt, and keepes his malyce cloſe, When leaſt ſuſpection is thereof, may moſt annoy his Foes. He leeſeth oportunity who vengeaunce doth requyre, That ſhewes by open ſparkes the flame the heate of kindled fyre. Small is the grype of griefe that can to reaſons lore obay, And ſneking downe with ſtealing ſteps can ſlyly ſlip away. But they that throughly ſowſed are with ſhowers of greater payne, Can not digeſt ſuch corſyes ſharpe, but caſt it vp agaye: Fayne would I giue them trouncing girds. Good daughter deare aſſwage Th'unbrydled ſway, and boyling heate of this thy gyddy rage: Scant maiſt thou purchaſe quietneſſe, although thou hold thy tongue. The valiaunt heart dame Fortune yet durſt neuer harme wt wrōg, But dreading daſtards downe ſhe driues. It any corage dure, And harbred be in noble breaſt, now put the ſame in vre. The ſhow of ſturdy valiaut heart, at any time doth ſhyne. No hope doth in aduerſity thy way to ſcape aſſygne. Hee that hath none affiaunce left, nor any hope at all. Yet let him not myſtruſt the luck of ought that may befall. Thy Countrey cleane hath caſt thee of, to let thee ſinke or ſwim, As for thy huſband Iaſon bee, there is no truſt in him: Of all the wealth, and worldly mucke wherewith thou didſt abounde: No porcion remaynes at all, whereby ſome helpe is founde.