Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 528 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
O wretch if thou desire, What measure ought to poise thy wrath then learn by Cupid's fire, To hate as sore as thou didst love, shall I not them annoy That do unite in spousal bed, their wanton lust t'enjoy? Shall Phoebus fiery footed horse go lodge in western wave The drooping day, that late I did with humble crouching crave, And with such earnest busy suit so hardly granted was? Shall it depart ere I can bring my devilish drift to pass? while hovering heaven doth counterpoised hang with equal space, Amid the marble Hemispheres, while round with stinted race, The gorgeous Sky above the Earth doth spinning roll about, Whiles that the number of the sands, lies hid unsearched out, While dawning day doth keep his course with Phoebus blaze so bright, While twinkling stars in golden trains do guard the slumbry night, While Isle under propping pole with whirling swing so swift, The shining Bears unbathed about the frozen Sky do lift, While flushing floods the frothy streams to rustling Seas do send, To gird them gripped with plunging pangs my rage shall never end. With greater heat it shall reboil, like as the brutish beast, Whose tyranny most horrible, exceedeth all the rest, What greedy gaping whirl pool wide what perilous gulf unmild, What Sulla couched in roaring Rocks, or what Charybdis wild, (That Sicil, and Ionium Sea by frothy waves doth sup) What Aetna bolking stifling flames, and dusky vapours up, (Whose heavy poise with stewing heat doth smouldering crush beneath Encelades, that fiery flakes from choked throat doth breathe) Can with such dreadful menaces in sweeting fury fry? No river swift no troubled surge of stormy Sea so high, Nor sturdy seas (whom ruffling winds with raging force to roar) Nor puissant flash of fire, whose might by boisterous blast is more, May bide my anger's violence: my fury shall it foil: His court I'll over hourle, and lay it level with the soil. My Iasons heart did quake for fear of Creon cruel king. And lest the king of Thessaly would war upon him bring. But loyal love that hardens hearts makes no man be affright. But beit, that he convict hath yield himself to Creon's might. Yet once he might have visited, and come to me his wife, To talk, and take his last farewell, if danger of his life In doing this (hard hearted wretch most cruel) he should fear, He being Creon's son in law, for him it leeful were, To have prorogued somewhat yet my heavy banishment, To take my leave of children twain one only day is lent: Yet do I not complain, as though the time to short I thought, As proof shall plain pronounce, today, today, it shall be wrought, The memory whereof no tract of time shall wipe away. With malice bent against the Gods my wrath shall them assay: And rifling every thing, both good, and bad, I will turmoil. Madame thy mind that troubled is, and tossed with such a broil Of swarming ills, thy vexed breast now set at rest again, The peevish fond affections all of troubled mind refrain.
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)
O wretch if thou deſire, What meaſure ought to payſe thy wrath then learne by Cupids fire, To hate as ſore as thou didſt loue, ſhall I not them anoy That doe vnite in ſpouſall bed, theyr wanton luſt t'enioy? Shall Phoebus fiery footed horſe goe lodge in weſtern waue The drowping day, that late I did with humble crowching craue, And with ſuch erneſt buſie ſuite ſo hardly graunted was? Shall it depart ere I can bring my deuyliſh dryſt to paſſe? Whyle houering heauen doth counterpayſed hang with egall ſpace, Amid the marble Hemiſpheares, whyle rounde with ſtinted race, The gorgeous Sky aboue the Earth doth ſpinning roll about, Whyles that the number of the ſandes, lyes hid vnſerched out, While dawning day doth keepe his courſe with Phoebus blaſe ſo bright, While twinkling ſtarres in golden traynes doe garde the ſlūbry nyght, While Iſle vnder propping poale with whyrling ſwyng ſo ſwift, The ſhyning Beares vnbathde about the froſen Sky doe lift, While fluſhing floudes the frothy ſtreames to ruſtling Seas doe ſend, To gird them gript with plonging pangues my rage ſhall neuer end. With greater heate it ſhall reboyle, lyke as the brutiſhe beaſt, Whoſe tyranny moſt horrible, exceedeth all the reſt, What greedy gaping whyrle poole wide what parlous gulph vnmilde, What Sylla coucht in roring Rockes, or what Charybdes wylde, (That Sicill, and Ionium Sea by frothy waues doth ſup) What Aetna bolking ſtfling flames, and duſky vapours vp, (Whoſe heauy payſe wt ſtewing heate doth ſmoldring cruſh beneath Encelades, that fiery flakes from choked throte doth breath) Can with ſuch dreadfull menaces in ſweeting fury fry? No ryuer ſwift no troubled ſurge of ſtormy Sea ſo hye, Nor ſturdy ſeas (whom ruffling winds with raging force to rore) Nor puiſſaunt flaſh of fyre, whoſe might by boyſtrous blaſt is more, May byde my angers violence: my fury ſhall it foyle: His court Ile ouer hourle, and lay it leauell with the ſoyle. My Iaſons heart did quake for feare of Creon cruell king. And leaſt the king of Theſſaly would warre vpon him bring. But loyall loue that hardens hearts makes no man be afright. But beete, that he conuict hath yeelde himſelfe to Creons might. Yet once hee might haue viſited, and come to me his wyfe, To talke, and take his laſt farewell, if daunger of his life In doing this (hard harted wretch moſt cruell) he ſhould feare, He being Creons ſonne in law, for him it efull were, To haue proroged ſomwhat yet my heauy baniſhment, To take my leaue of chyldren twayne one onely day is lent: Yet doe I not complayne, as though the time to ſhort I thought, As proofe ſhall playne pronounce, to day, to day, it ſhall bee wrought, The memory whereof no tract of time ſhall wype away. With malice bent agaynſt the Gods my wrath ſhall them aſſay: And rifling euery thing, both good, and bad, I will turmoyle. Madame thy minde that troubled is, and toſt with ſuch abroyle Of ſwarming ills▪ thy vexed breaſt now ſet at reſt agayne, The peniſh fond affections all of troubled mynde refrayne.