Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 525 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
No more adread of mortal strumpet's feat, Aloft alone in cloudy bower contents The thundering Lord, which now to her relents. Nor now with earthly ladies beauty bright yfired, leaves his starry specked right. Now madam sith on earth your power is pight And have on earth Queen Juno's princely place, And sister are, and wife to Nero's grace, Your wondrous restless dolours great appease. Nay, sooner shall the roaring frothy seas, And mounting flashing flaws match the sky, And smoking, stifling parching fire dry With dankish pools agree and watery fen: And grisly Pluto's filthy filtered den, With starbright heaven shall sooner coupled be, And shining light with gloomy shades agree, And with the clear dry day the dewy night, Than unto servile lore of husband wight, That brutish wise in blood takes his delight, My heavy woeful mind can I address, While brother's death my heart doth still possess. O that of heavenly powers the prince and sire, That shogs and shakes the earth with thundering fire, And with his wondrous, fearful, cursed cracks, And strange misshapen monsters which he makes, Our fearful musing minds doth sore amaze, Would coin some cureless burning wildfire blaze, To pelt and pash with thumping fire bright, That devilish pate, that cruel cursed wight. We saw from heaven, with beams forthshoting far doubtless a dreadful hairy, blazing star: That spouted out a mortal fiery flake, Whose force a PRINCE's blood can only slake: Even where that hayting carman slow Boot With chilling cold all stark of frozen pole, Doth guide aright Charles whirling running rote, In stead of night that never away doth role. Lo now the open air in every street, With doggish tyrants breath, is poisoned, quite, And dreadful stars some sudden death do threat. To people ruled, by wicked Nero's sprite. So stern a freak, or mankind tyrant stout, Not Tellus with the Gods displeased brought out, When mighty Ioue neglected she uphurled Huge, ugly, monstrous Typhon to the world. A sorer plague, a cleaner scouring scourge, With bloody paws that cities bounds doth purge, Is Nero dire, this cruel cursed wight. That doth himself 'gainst God and man ydight: And thrusts from sacred shrines their quiet port, And goodly temples gay the sancted sort: That cities dwellers puts from country's fort: That hath bereft his brother of his life, And launched his mother's sides with gory knife: Yet doth this present lightsome day enjoy And leads his life, that doth us sore annoy. O Father of heaven, in vain why dost thou throw Thy great unvanquished rattling thundering blow Upon the whistling woods and ample seas, With force of princely power thy wrath t'appease? Ou such an hurtful and pernicious freak, Thy due and just conceived ire to wreak. Why stay thy mighty puissant brands so long, Ere thou fling down thy rattling cracking throng? O Lord, that Nero once might pay the price, Of all his devilish deeds, and every vice, Th'whole wide world's tyrant stern where he a stroke Doth bear: which he overlades with burdenous yoke Of princely sire yborn, but doth defame, With beastly manners vile his princely name:
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)
No more adred of mortall ſtrumpets feat, Aloft alone in cloudy bowre contentes The thundring Lord, which now to her relentes. Nor now with earthly Ladyes beauty bright Yfyred, leaues his ſtarry ſpecked right. Now madam ſith on earth your powre is pight And haue on earth Queene Iunos princely place, And ſiſter are, and wyfe to Neroes grace, Your wondrous reſtles dolours great appeaſe. Nay, ſooner ſhall the roaring froathy ſeas, And mounting flaſhing flawes ymatch the ſkye, And ſmoaking, ſtifling parching fyer drye With dankiſh pooles agree and watrye fenne: And grieſly Plutoes filthy feltred denne, With ſtarbright heauen ſhal ſooner coupled be, And ſhyning light with glomy ſhades agree, And with the cleere drye day the dewy night, Than vnto ſeruile lore of huſbande wight, That brutiſh wyſe in bloud takes his delight, My heauy woeful mynd can I addreſſe, Whyle brothers death my heart doth ſtil poſſeſſe. O that of heauenly powers the prince and ſyre, That ſhogges and ſhakes the earth with thūdring fyre, And with his wondrous, feareful, curſed crackes, And ſtraunge miſhapen monſters which he makes, Our feareful muſing myndes doth ſore amaſe, Would coyne ſome cureles burning wildfyre blaſe, To pelt and paſh with thumping fyer bright, That diueliſh pate, that cruell curſed wight. We ſaw from heauen, with beames forthſhoting farre Doubtles a dreadful heary, blaſing ſtarre: That ſpouted out a mortall fiery flake, Whoſe force a princes bloud can only ſlake: Euen where that hayting carman ſloe Boote With chilling cold al ſtarcke of froſen pole, Doth guyde aright Charles whirling running rote, In ſteade of night that neuer away doth role. Loe now the open ayre in euery ſtreate, With doggiſh tyrantes breath, is poyſoned, quite, And dreadful ſtarres ſome ſodayne death do threate. To people rulde, by wicked Neroes ſpright. So ſterne a freake, or mankynd tyrant ſtoute, Not Tellus with the Gods diſpleaſd brought out, When mighty Ioue neglected ſhe vphorlde Huge, vgly, monſtrous Typhon to the worlde. A ſorer plague, a cleaner ſcouryng ſcourge, With bloudy pawes that cityes boundes doth purge, Is Nero dyre, this cruell curſed wyght. That doth himſelfe gaynſt God and man ydyght: And thruſtes from ſacred ſhrynes their quiet porte, And goodly temples gay he ſancted ſort: That cittyes dwellers puts from countries fort: That hath bereft his brother of his lyfe, And launcht his mothers ſides with goary knyfe: Yet doth this preſent lightſome day enioye And leades his lyfe, that doth vs ſore annoy. O Father of heauen, in vayne why doſt thou throwe Thy great vnuanquiſht ratling thundring blowe Vppon the whiſtling woods and ample ſeas, With force of princely power thy wrath t'appeaſe? Ou ſuch an hurtful and pernicious freake, Thy due and iuſt conceyued yre to wreake. Why ſtay thy mighty puiſſaunt braunds ſo long, Ere thou fling downe thy ratling cracking throng? O Lord, that Nero once might pay the price, Of all his deuiliſh deedes, and euery vyce, Th'whole wyde worlds tyrant ſterne wher he a ſtroke Doth beare: which he ouerlades with burdnous yoke Of princely ſyre yborne, but doth defame, With beaſtly manners vyle his princely name: