Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 500 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
That tyrant dire doth rage at mother's name, And seeketh ways, my deeds for to defame. Who threating death to them that do withstand, My shapes he dingeth down, in every land: My princely tyties large he scrapeth out In every place, the whole wide world about, Which my unlucky parents love did give, To much unto my pain, while I did live, th a boy to gyde, which nowe Irue. My poisoned Make, my ghost doth oft pursue: And in my face, with burning brands, doth fly. He stays a space with earnest talk hard by, And threateneth sore, and doth impute his death And tomb he should have had, to me beneath. And now desires to have some factious wight, That dare despoil my son of breathing sprite. Let be, you shall have one to work this crime, I do require no long delayed time. Revenging spirit Erin, a death doth coin, Of life, that wicked tyrant, to purloin. Sore smarting leaden stripes, and shameful flight, And pining pangs, with thirst and hunger dight: That Tantalus spungelyke thirsty mouth befurd, And Sisyphus toil shall pass, and Tityus bird, And Ixion's painful, wombling wheel about, That teareth all his bodies parts throughout. Although that tyrant proud and scornful wight, His court with marble stone do strongly dight, And princelike garnish it with glistering gold: Though troops of soldiers shielded sure, uphold Their chieftains princely porch: & though yet still The world drawn dry with tasks even to his will, Great heaps of riches yield themselves to save, Although his bloody help, the Parthians crave, And kingdoms bring, and goods all that they have, The time, and day shall come, when as he shall Forlorn, and quite undone, and wanting all, Unto his cursed deeds, his life, and more, Unto his foes, his baared throat restore. Alas, unto what end is all my pain, Or in what case, do now my vows remain? Whereto doth now thy rage, and destiny's spite Draw thee, O son, with brain benumbed quite? That to such monstrous heaps of ills thy dame (Whom thou, with cursed mischief overcame) Her wrath should yield? O that, ere to the light A sucking babe I brought thee forth in sight, And fed thee fine with pap, as princely borne, The fierce, wild, savage beasts had rend and torn My womb, and bloody entrells all before. Without all crime, and wanting reasons pride, Mine own dear dandling child thou shouldst have dyde. And fastened sure to me shouldst aye behold, The quiet place, where ghostly souls be rolled: And see thy grand sires great of worthy same, And sire Domitius eke of princely name, Whom now, both shame, and wailing doth abide, That while they dure, from them shall never slide. For which, both thee, O cursed barn, they may, And me, that thee have borne give thanks for aye. But why cease I, with Hell to hide my face, wife, stepdame, mother dire, in my life space?
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)
That tyrant dyre doth rage at mothers name, And séeketh wayes, my déedes for to defame. Who threating death to them that doe withstand, My shapes he dingeth downe, in euery land: My princely tyties large he scrapeth out In euery place, the whole wyde worlde about, Which my parents loue did giue, To much vnto my , while I did liue, th a boy to gyde, which nowe Irue. My poysoned Make, my ghost doth oft pursue: And in my face, with burning bronds, doth flye. He stayes a space with earnest talke hard by, And threatneth sore, and doth impute his death And tombe he should haue had, to me beneath. And now desyres to haue some factious wight, That dare dispoyle my sonne of breathing spright. Let be, you shall haue one to worke this crime, I do require no long delaied time. Reuenging sprit Erin, a death doth coyne, Of life, that wicked tyrant, to purloyne. Sore smarting leaden strypes, and shamefull flyght, And pyning panges, with thurst and hunger dyght: That Tantalus spungelyke thurstie mouth befurd, And Sisyphus toyle shall passe, and Tityus hurd, And Ixions painefull, wombling whéele about, That teareth all his bodies parts throughout. Although that tyrant proud and scornefull wyght, His court with marble stone do strongly dyght, And princelike garnish it with glistring gold: Though troupes of souldiours shielded sure, vphold Their chieftaines princely porch: & though yet still The world drawne drye with taskes euen to his will, Great heapes of riches yéelde them selues to saue, Although his bloudie helpe, the Parthians craue, And kingdomes bring, and goods all that they haue, The time, and day shall come, when as he shall Forlorne, and quite vndone, and wanting all, Vnto his curssed déedes, his life, and more, Vnto his foes, his baared throat restore. Alas, vnto what end is all my paine, Or in what case, do now my vowes remaine? Whereto doth now thy rage, and destnies spyte Draw thée, O sonne, with braine benummed quyte? That to such monstrous heaps of ylls thy dame (Whō thou, with curssed mischiefe ouercame) Hir wrath should yéeld? O that, ere to the light A sucking babe I brought thée forth in sight, And fed thée fyne with pappe, as princely borne, The fierce, wylde, sauage beasts had rent and torne My wombe, and bloudie entrells all beforne. Without all cryme, and wanting reasons pryde, Mine owne déere dandling childe yu shouldst haue dyde. And fastned sure to me shuldst aye beholde, The quiet place, where ghostlie soules be rolde: And sée thy graund syres great of worthy same, And syre Domitius eke of princely name, Whome nowe, both shame, and wayling doth abyde, That whyle they dure, from them shall neuer slyde. For which, both thée, O curssed barne, they may, And mée, that thée haue borne giue thankes for aye. But why ceasse I, with Hell to hide my face, Wyfe, stepdame, mother dire, in my life space?