Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.78 · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
What then, why Seneck do you that approve, That we contemned, despised, and set at nought, With finger put in hole (full wisely wrought) Our bodies blood to seek should them abide, That they might us sometime destroy unspied? Their native country bounds to banished be, Nor Plautius' breast nor Sulla's eke we see Hath broke, or tamed: whose cankered churlish ire, Shapes bloody freaks to quench our body's fire. And chief when these traitorous absent clowns, Such wondrous favour find in cities bounds, Which those same exiles lingering hope doth feed: Suspected foes with sword we will out weed. And so Octavia shall that jolly dame, Continue after them their bloody game. And wend that way her noun white brother went, Such high mistrusted things must needs be bend. It is, O prince, a worthy famous thing, Amyds redoubted Lords alone to ring: And wisely work your country's praise to save: And well yourself to captive folk behave: From cruel brutish slaughter to abstain: And void of mood to wreak your angry pain: And, to the world a quiet calm to give, That all your age in peace their lives may live. This is a Prince's praise without all crime: This is the path to heaven whereby we climb. So is Augustus prince and father called Of country first, in starbright throne installed. Whom as a God in ministers we adorn, Yet troublous fortune tossed him before, A great while long on lands, and ruffling seas, Until his father's foes he could appease, And through wars divers course could quell them quite. To you did fortune yield her power, and might, And reins of rule without all blood, and fight. And to your beck both land, and seas hath bend. Grim deadly envy daunted doth relent. The Senate Lords gave place with free consent: The battailous rout of knights with willing hearts (That same decree from sager sires departs) Unto the lay men's choice do well agree. Your grace the spring of peace they count to be. And chosen judge, and guide of mortal stock. Your grace, your country's sacred sire, doth rock, And rule with princely gorgeous title bright, The circled world in roundel wisely ydight. Which mighty mounting name to keep so great, This noble city Rome, doth you entreat: And doth commend unto your royal grace, Her lively limbs in charge for your lives space. The gift of Gods it is, as we discus, That Rome with Senate sort doth honour us. And that the fear of our displeasure great, From cankered envious stomaches maketh sweat Both humble talk, and supplications meek. And were not fear all these would be to seek. Unwieldy, cumbrous cities members ill, That prince, and country both do seek to spill, To leave alive (which swell, and puffed be, Because of lineage great, and high degree) What madness mere is it when as we may, Even with a word, such freaks dispatch away? Sir Brutus stern, his brawns and arms did dight.
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What then, why Seneck do you that approue, That we contemnde, despysde, and set at nought, With fynger put in hole (full wysely wrought) Our bodyes bloude to seke should them abide, That they might vs sometime destroy vnspide? Their natiue country boundes to bannisht bée, Nor Plautius brest nor Syllas eke we sée Hath broke, or tamde: whose cankred churlish yre, Shapes bloudy freakes to quench our bodies fyre. And chiefly when these trayterous absent clownes, Such wondrous fauour finde in cities bownes, Which those same exiles lingring hope doth féede: Suspected foes with sworde we will out wéede. And so Octauia shall that ioyly dame, Continue after them their bloudy game. And wend that way her nowne white brother went, Such hye mistrusted things must néedes be bent. It is, O prince, a worthy famous thing, Amyds redoubted Lordes alone to ring: And wisely worke your countries praise to saue: And well your selfe to captiue folke behaue: From cruell brutish slaughter to abstaine: And voyde of moode to wreake your angry paine: And, to the worlde a quiet calme to giue, That all your age in peace their liues may liue. This is a Princes praise without all cryme: This is the path to heauen whereby we clyme. So is Augustus prince and father cald Of country first, in starbright throne ystald. Whome as a God in minsters we adorne, Yet troublous fortune tossed him beforne, A great while long on lands, and ruffling seas, Vntyll his fathers foes he could appease, And through wars diuers course could quel thē quite. To you did fortune yelde hir power, and might, And raynes of rule without all bloud, and fyght. And to your beck both land, and seas hath bent. Grim deadly enuy daunted doth relent. The Senate Lordes gaue place with frée consent: The battaylous route of knightes with willing hearts (That same decre from sager syres departes) Vnto the lay mens choyse doe well agrée. Your grace the spring of peace they count to be. And chosen Iudge, and guyde of mortall stock. Your grace, your countries sacred syre, doth rock, And rule with princely gorgeous tytle bryght, The cyrcled worlde in rundell wysely ydight. Which myghty mounting name to kéepe so great, This noble city Rome, doth you entreate: And doth commend vnto your royall grace, Hir liuely lyms in charge for your lyues space. The gyft of Goddes it is, as we discus, That Rome with Senate sort doth honour vs. And that the feare of our displeasure great, From cankred enuious stomaks maketh sweat Both humble talke, and supplications méeke. And were not feare all these would be to seeke. Vnweldy, combrous cities members ill, That prince, and cuntrie both doe seeke to spill, To leaue alyue (which swell, and puffed bée, Bycause of lynage greate, and hye degree) What madnesse meere is it when as we may, Euen with a word, such freakes dispatch away? Sir Brutus stern, his brawns and armes did dight.