Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.85 · 496 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Lo here she looketh out, and leans upon the houses frame, That pitchlong hangs with falling sway: here heap your fierce fast, Whereby the flames that she herself enkindled, may her waste. Go Iason, go the obit rights the winding sheet and grave Make ready for thy son, 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 wailsome murder like shall lose her tender life. By all the sacred ghosts of heaven, and by thy oft exile, And spousal bed, which breach of love in me did not defile, Now spare, and save the life of him my child and also thine: whatever crime committed is, I grant it to be mine: Make me a bloody sacrifice to due deserved death, Take from my sinful guilty head the use of vital breath. Nay sith thou wilt not have it so as grieves thy pinched mind, Here way to wreck my vengeance fell, 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 due 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 unbreast, 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 awhile his doleful death, that I may take my flight. lest that mine eyes with 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 time that wee obtayned haue of Creon, wee enioy. O vile malicious minded wretch my loathsome life destroy. In craving this thou speakst, that I should show thee some relief, Well good enough, all this is done: O ruthful giddy 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 every wonted I, When murder I had made, to scape, my way doth open lie That I may spring into the skies: the flying serpents twain Submitted have their scaly Necks to yoke of rattling wain, Thou Father have thy sons again, I in the wandering Sky In nimble wheeled wagon swift, will ride advanced high, Go through the ample spaces wide, infect the poisoned Air, Bear witness, grace of God is none in place of thy repair.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1458–1503 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 30 of 30 in this edition
Length
496 words · 641 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.847 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
Loe heere ſhee looketh out, and leanes vpon the houſes frame, That pitchlong hanges with falling ſway: heere heape your fiers faſt, Whereby the flames that ſhee her ſelfe enkindled, may her waſt. Goe Iaſon, goe the obit rights the windinge ſheete and graue Make ready for thy ſonne, as laſt behoueth him to haue, Thy ſpouſe and eke thy father in lawe that are entomde by mee Receiued haue the dutyes that to deade mens ghoſtes agree. This childe hath felt the deadly ſtroke and launce of fatall knife, And this with waileſome murther like ſhall loſe her tender life. By all the ſacred ghoſtes of heauen, and by thy oft exile, And ſpouſall bed, which breach of loue in mee did not defile, Now ſpare, and ſaue the life of him my childe and alſo thyne: What euer cryme committed is, I graunt it to be myne: Make mee a bloudy ſacrifice to dew deſerued death, Take from my ſinfull guilty head the vſe of vitall breath. Nay ſith thou wilt not haue it ſo as greeues thy pynched minde, Heere way to wreck my vengeaunce fell, my burning blade ſhall finde. Auaunt, now hence thou peſaunt prowd employ thy buſy payne, To reape the fruites of virgins bed, and caſt them of agayne When mothers they are made. Let one for dew reuenge ſuffice. If greedy thyrſt of hungry handes that ſtil for vengeaunce cries. Myght quenched bee with bloude of one, then aſke I none at all, And yet to ſtaunche my hungry griefe the number is to ſmall, If onely twayne I ſlea, if pleadge of loue lye ſecrete made, My bowels Ile vnbreaſt, and ſearch my wombe with poking Blade. Now finiſh out thy deadly deede, that enterpriſed is, No more entreataunce will I vſe, yet onely graunt mee this, Delay awhyle his dolefull death, that I may take my flyght. Leaſt that myne eyes wt bleeding hearte ſhould vew that heauy ſight. Yet linger eger anguiſhe yet to ſlea this chylde of thyne. Ronne not to raſhe with haſty ſpeede, this dolefull day is myne: The time that wee obtayned haue of Creon, wee enioy. O vile malitious mynded wretch my lothſome life deſtroy. In crauing this thou ſpeakſt, that I ſhould ſhew thee ſome releefe, Well goodinough, all this is done: O ruthfull giddy greefe, This is the onely ſacrifice that I can thee prouide, Vnthankfull Iaſon hether caſt thy coyeſh lookes aſyde. Loe heare doſt thou beholde thy wyfe? thus euery wonted I, When murther I had made, to ſcape, my way doth open lye That I may ſpring into the ſkyes: the flying ſerpents twayne Submted haue theyr ſcaly Neckes to yoake of ratling wayne, Thon Father haue thy ſonnes agayne, I in the wandring Skye In nymble wheeled Waggon ſwyfte, will ryde aduaunced hye, Goe through the ample ſpaces wyde, infect the poyſoned Ayre, Beare witneſſe, grace of God is none in place of thy repayre.