Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.83 · 524 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
To purchase grace, and eke to earn you favour in her sight. That both a mother is to you, and rules with lady's might. Go on, apply your charge apace, and high you home again, That with embracing you I may my last farewell attain. WHat sharp assaults of cruel Cupid's flame With giddy head thus tosseth to and fro, This bedlam Wight, and devilish desperate dame What roving rage her pricks to work this woe? Rough rancours vile congeals her frozen face, Her haughty breast bombasted is with pride, She shakes her head, she stalks with stately pace. she threats our king more than doth her betide. Who would her deem to be a banished wight, Whose scarlet Cheeks do glow with rosy red? In fainting Face, with pale and wanny white The sanguine hew exiled thence is fled Her changing looks no colour long can hold. Her shifting feet still travasse to and fro. even as the fierce and ravening Tiger old That doth unware his sucking whelps forego, Doth ramp, and rage, most eager fierce and wood, Among the shrubs and bushes that do grow On Ganges strand that golden sanded flood, Whose silver stream through India doth flow. even so MEDEA sometime wants her wits To rule the rage of her unbridled ire, Now VENUS Son, with busy froward fits, Now Wrath, and Love enkindle both the fire. What shall she do? when will this heinous wight With forward foot be packing hence away, From Greece? to ease our Realm of terror quite, And princes twain whom she so sore doth fray: Now Phoebus lodge thy chariot in the West, Let neither Reins, nor Bridle stay thy Race, Let groveling light with Dulceat night oppressed In cloaking Clouds wrapped up his muffled Face, Let Hesperus the lodesman of the night, In Western flood drench deep the day so bright. ALl things are topsy-turvy turned, and wasted clean to nought. To passing great calamity our Kingdom State is brought. The Sire, and Daughter burnt to dust in blendred Cinders lie. What train hath them entrapped? Such as are made for Kings to die, False traitorous gifts. What privy guile could wrapped be in those? And I do marvel at this thing and scant I can suppose That such a mischief might be wrought by any such device Report how this destruction and ruin should arise The fizzing flame most eagerly doth scour with sweeping sway Each corner of the princes court, as though it should obey. Commanded thereunto so flat on flower the Palace falls: we are in dread lest further it will take the townish walls. Cast quenching water on it then to slake the greedy flame. And this that seemeth very strange do happen in the same, The water feeds the fire fast, the more that we do toil It to suppress, with hotter rage the heat begins to boil: Those things that we have gotten for our help it doth enjoy. Medea thou that dost so sore king Pelops land annoy, Twine hence in haste thy forward foot, at all assays depart To any other kind of coast.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1249–1312 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 26 of 30 in this edition
Length
524 words · 703 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T36 — Hell, Furies and the language of punishmentcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.826 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
To purchaſe grace, and eke to earne you fauour in her ſight. That both a mother is to you, and rules with Ladies might. Goe on, apply your charge apace, and hye you home agayne, That with embracing you I may my laſt farewell attayne. WHat ſharpe aſſaultes of cruell CVPIDS flame Wyth gyddie heade thus toſſeth to and froe, This bedlem Wyght, and diuelyſh deſpret dame What rouing rage her pricks to worke this woe? Rough rancours vile congeales her froſen face, Her hawty breaſt bumbaſted is vvyth pryde, Shee ſhakes her heade, ſhee ſtalkes vvyth ſtately pace. Shee threates our king more then doth her betyde. Who would her deeme to bee a baniſht wyght, Whoſe ſkarlet Cheekes doe glowe with roſy red? In faynting Face, with pale and wanny whyght The ſangayne hewe exyled thence is fled Her chaunging lookes no colour longe can holde. Her ſhifting feete ſtill trauaſſe to and froe. Euen as the fearce and rauening Tyger olde That doth vnware his ſucking whelpes forgoe, Doth rampe, and rage, moſt eger ferce and wood, Among the ſhrubs and buſſhes that doe growe On Ganges ſtronde that golden ſanded flood, Whoſe ſiluer ſtreame through India doth flowe. Euen ſo MEDEA ſometime vvantes her wits To rule the rage of her vnbrydeled ire, Nowe VENVS Sonne, wyth buſie froward fits, Nowe Wrath, and Loue enkyndle both the fire. What ſhall ſhee doe? when will this heynous wyght With forwarde foote bee packing hence away, From Greece? to eaſe our Realme of terrour quight, And prynces twayne whom ſhe ſo ſore doth fray: Nowe Phoebus lodge thy Charyot in the Weſt, Let neyther Raynes, nor Brydle ſtay thy Race, Let groueling light with Dulceat nyght oppreſt In cloking Cloudes wrapt vp his muffled Face, Let Heſperus the loadeſman of the nyght, In Weſtern floode drench deepe the day ſo bryght. ALl things are topſy turuy turnde, and waſted cleane to nought. To paſſing great calamity our Kingdome State is brought. The Syre, and Daughter burnt to duſt in blendred Cynders lye. What trayne hath them entrapt? Such as are made for Kinges to dye, Falſe traitrous gifts. What priuy guile could wrapped be in thoſe? And I doe meruayle at this thing and ſkant I can ſuppoſe That ſuch a miſchiefe might be wrought by any ſuch deuice Report how this deſtruction and ruine ſhould aryſe The fyzzing flame moſt egerly doth ſcoure with ſweeping ſway Eache corner of the Prynces court, as though it ſhould obay. Commaunded therevnto ſo flat on flowre the Pallace falles: Wee are in dread leaſt further it will take the towniſhe walles. Caſt quenching water on it then to ſlake the greedy flame. And this that ſeemeth very ſtraunge doe happen in the ſame, The water feedes the fier faſt, the more that wee doe toyle It to ſuppreſſe, with hotter rage the heate begins to boyle: Thoſe thinges that wee haue gotten for our help it doth enioy. Medea thou that doeſt ſo ſore king Pelops lande anoy, Twine hence in haſt thy forwarde foote, at all aſſayes depart To any other kinde of coaſte.