Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T40 Sin, guilt and violent loss within famil · 506 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T40: brother, death, life, die, heaven, sin, live, father, blood, soul.
THough much I bear that boiling breast do beat And tolerably take divorcements threat, deaths only deadly dart, I see an end, Of all my broil and pinching pain can send, What pleasant light to me (O wretch) is left, My natural Mother slain, and Sire be reft, Of breathing life, by treason, and by gilt: Of Brother eke deprived: with miseries spilled: And wailing overcome: kept down with care, envied of Make, which I dare not declare. To maiden subject now, and now defied: What pleasant light can me (O wretch) abide, With fearful heart suspecting always aught: Because I would no wicked deed were wrought: Not that I fear deaths grisly girning face, God grant I do not so revenge my case, A better deed to die: for to behold The tyrants visage grim, with brows uprolled And with soft tender lips my foe to kiss, And stand in awe of becks and nods of his, Whose will to please my grief with cares yfired Since brother's death by wicked wile conspire, Could never once vouchsafe for to sustain, Less grief to die, than thus to live in pain. His Empire Nero rules and joys in blood: The cause and ground of death that Tyrant wood. How oft (alas) doth Fancy fondly fain. When slumber sweet in pensive parts doth reign, And sleep in eyes, all tired with tears doth rest, I apprehend dear Britain's lively breast: Ere while methinks his feeble shivering hands He fenceth sure with deadly blazing brands, And fiercely on his brother Nero's face, With sturdy stinging strokes he flies apace. Ere while thilk wretch recoileth back again, And to my thews for aid retires amain: Him foaming foe pursues with haste to have: And while my brother I desire to save, And in my clasped arms to shield him free, His gory bloodied falchion keen I see. The boisterous romping fiend to tug, & hale Through out my shivering limbs, as ashes pale. Forthwith a mighty trembling chattering quake From weary limbs all supple sleep doth shake, And makes me woeful wretch for to recount, My wailing sobbing sorrows that surmount. Hereto, put to that gorgeous stately house, All glistering bright, with spoils of Claudius' house His parent dear in bubbling boat did douse, That wicked son, this fisking dame to please. Whom yet escaping dangers great of Seas. He fiercer freak than waves that scantly rest, With bloody blade her bowels did unbreast. What hope of health, can me, O wretch, abide, That after them thilk way I should not ride? My special foe, triumphant wise doth weight, With naked nates to press by lovers sleight, Our spousal, pure, and clean unspotted bed: 'gainst whom, she burns, with deadly food blood red. And, for a meed of filthy strumpet's sport, She causeth Make from spouse for to divort. O ancient Sire, step forth from Limbo lake, Thy daughters heavy troublous cares to slake: Or your twi-gated hellish porch unfold, That down through gaping ground I may be rolled.
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)
THough much I beare that boyling breſt do beate And tollerably take diuor cements threate, Deathes only deadly darte, I ſee an end, Of al my broyle and pinching payne can ſend, What pleaſant light to me (O wretch) is left, My natural Mother ſlayne, and Syre be reft, Of breathing life, by treaſon, and by gilt: Of Brother eake depriude: with miſeryes ſpilt: And wayling ouercome: kept downe with care, Enuyed of Make, which I dare not declare. To mayden ſubiect now, and now defied: What pleaſant light can me (O wretch) abyde, With feareful hart ſuſpecting always ought: Becauſe I would no wicked deede were wroughte: Not that I feare Deathes grieſly gyrning face, God graunt I do not ſo reuenge my caſe, A better deede to dye: for to behold The Tyrantes viſage grie, with browes vprolde And with ſoft tender lippes my foe to kiſſe, And ſtand in awe of beckes and noddes of his, Whoſe will to pleaſe my griefe with cares yfirde Since brothers death by wicked wyle conſpirde, Could neuer once vouchſafe for to ſuſtayne, Leſſe griefe to die, then thus to liue in payne. His Empyre Nero rules and ioyes in blood: The cauſe and ground of death that Tirant wood. How oft (alas) doth Fanſie fondly fayne. Whē ſlumber ſwete in penſiue parts doth raigne, And ſleepe in eyes, all tyrd with teares doth reſt, I apprehend deare Brittans liuely breſt: Ere whyle me thinkes his feble ſhiuering hands He fenſeth ſure with deadly blaſing brandes, And fiercely on his brother Neros face, With ſturdy ſtinging ſtroakes he flies apace. Ere whyle thilke wretch recoyleth backe▪ agayne, And to my thewes for aide retyres amayne: Him foming foe purſues with haſt to haue: And whyle my brother I deſire to ſaue, And in my claſped armes to ſhield him free, His goary bloudied falchion keene I ſee. The boyſterous raumping fiend to ugge, & hale Through out my hiuering limmes, as aſhes pale. Forthwith a mighty trembling chattering quake From weary lims all ſouple ſleepe doth ſhake, And makes me woeful wretch for to recount, My wayling ſobbing ſorrowes that ſurmount. Hereto, put to that gorgeous ſtately ouſe, All gliſtring bright, with ſpoyles of Claudius houſe His parent deare in bubling boate did douſe, That wicked ſonne, this fiſking dame to pleaſe. Whom yet eſcaping daungers great of Seas. He fiercer freake than waues that ſcantly reſt, VVith bloudy blade hir bowels did vnbreſt. VVhat hope of health, can me, O wretch, abyde, That after them thilke way I ſhould not ryde? My ſpeciall foe, triumphant wiſe doth weight, VVith naked nates to preſſe by louers ſleight, Our ſpouſall, pure, and cleane vnſpotied bed: Gainſt whom, ſhe burns, with deadly foode bloud red. And, for a meede of filthy ſtrumpets ſport, She cauſeth Make from ſpouſe for to diuort. O auncient Syre, ſtep forth from Limbo lake, Thy daughters heauy troublous cares to ſlake: Or your twygated hellyſh porche vnfolde, That downe through gaping ground I may bee rolde.