Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 493 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
Medea yet is left, (to much) and here thou mayst espy The Seas to succour us in flight, and lands aloof that lie: Yea pron tools, with burning brands we have to work them woe, And Gods that with the thunder dint shall overquell our foe: Who wears the goldencrested crown him dread with awe ye should. My Father was a King, yet I betrayed his Fleece of gold. Can not the deadly violence of weapons make thee fear? No, though such grisly Lads they were, as whilom did appear, That bred of gargoyle Dragon's teeth in hollow gaping ground, When mutually in bloody fight each other did confound. Then wilt thou cast thyself to death. Would God that I were dead. Fly, fly to save thy life. Woe worth the time that once I fled. What O Medea. Why shall I fly? A mother dear art thou, Fly therefore for thy children's sake. Ye see by whom, and how, A wretched Mother I am made. Thy life by flight to save Dost thou mistrust? Nay, fly I will, but vengeance first I'll have. Then some shall thee at heels pursue, to wreck the same again. Perhaps I'll make his coming short. Be still, and now refrain O desperate dame thy thundering threats, and slake your raging ire. Apply, and frame thy froward will as time and tides require. Full well may fortunes welting wheel to begging bring my state, As for my worthy courage, that she, never shall abate. Who bouncing at the Gates, doth cause the creaking doors to jar? It is the wretch (Creon his self,) whom princely power far Hath lift aloft, with lordly look, puffed up with pouncing pride, That he may Corinth country, with the sway of Sceptre guide. NEdea that ungracious Imp, king Aetas wicked child, Yet hath not from our careful realm her lingering foot exiled. Some naughty drift she goes about, her knacks of old we know Her juggling arts, her harming hands are known well long ago. From whom will she withhold her harm? whom will this cruel beast Permit to live, from peril free, in quietness and rest? Clean to cut of this perilous plague it was our purpose bent, But Iason by entreating hard, did cause us to relent. At his request we granted have, her life she shall enjoy, Let her acquit our country free from fear of all annoy: Yea safely let her pack her hence, in eager giddy fit, With lumpish lowering look she comes in talk with me to knit: Sirs keep her of and set her hence, lest us she touch perhaps, And drive her back from coming nigh command her keep her clap. And let her learn at length, how that herself submit she may, The puissant poise and majesty of Princes to obey. Run, hie thee quickly, trudge apace, have hence out of my sight This horrible, most odious quean, this monstrous wicked wight.
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)
Medea yet is left, (to much) and here thou mayſt eſpy The Seas to ſuccour vs in flyght, and landes aloofe that ly: Yea pron tooles, with burning brands we haue to worke them woe, And Gods that with the thunder dint ſhall ouerquell our foe: Who weares y• goldēcreſted crowne him dred with awe yee ſhould. My Father was a King, yet I betrayed his Fleece of gould. Can not the deadly vyolence of weapons make thee feare? No, though ſuch griſly Lads they were, as whilom did appeare, That bred of gargell Dragous teeth in holow gaping grounde, When mutually in bloudy fight eche other did confounde. Thē wilt thou caſt thy ſelf to death. Would God ye I were dead. Fly, fly to ſaue thy life. Woe worth the time that once I fled. What O Medea. Why ſhall I fly? A mother deere art thou, Fly therefore for thy childrens ſake. Yee ſee by whom, and how, A wretched Mother I am made. Thy lyfe by flight to ſaue Doſt thou miſtruſt? Nay, fly I will, but vengeaunce firſt ile haue. Then ſome ſhall thee at heeles purſue, to wrecke the ſame agayne. Perhap ile make his cōming ſhort. Be ſtill, and now refrayne O deſpret dame thy thundring threates, and ſlake your raging ire. Apply, and frame thy froward will as time and tides requyre. Full well may fortunes welting wheele to begging bring my ſtate, As for my worthy corage, that ſhee, neuer ſhall abate. Who bowncing at the Gates, doth cauſe the creaking dores to Iar? It is the wretch (Creon his ſelfe,) whom princely power far Hath lift aloft, with lordly looke, puft vp with pouncing pryde, That hee may Corinth countrey, with the ſway of Scepter guide. NEdea that vngracious Imp, king Aetas wicked chylde, Yet hath not frō our careful realme her lingring foote exilde. Som naughty drift ſhe goes about, her knacks of old we kno Her iugling arts, her harming hāds are known wel long ago. From whō will ſhee withhold her harme? whom will this cruell beaſt Permit to liue, from perrill free, in quietneſſe and reſt? Cleane to cut of this parlous plague it was our purpoſe bent, But Iaſon by entreting hard, did cauſe vs to relent. At his requeſt we graunted haue, her life ſhe ſhall enioy, Let her acquit our countrey free from feare of all annoy: Yea ſaufely let her pack her hence, in eger giddy fit, With lumpiſh lowring looke ſhee comes in talke with me to knit: Sirs keepe her of and ſet her hence, leaſt vs ſhe touch perhap, And driue her backe from cōming nigh commaunde her keepe her clap. And let her learne at length, how that her ſelfe ſubmit ſhe may, The puiſſaunt payſe and maieſty of Princes to obay. Run, hie thee quickly, trudge apace, haue hence out of my ſight This horrible, moſt odious quean, this monſtrous wicked wight.