Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi typicality 0.76 · 486 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
FRom out of spousal bower dismayed with fear, Whither go you? what secrets daughter dear Unknown, makes you to look so drowsily? Why spungelike looks your face with tears from eye That fell? of truth the time desired long, And wished for by prayers, and vows among Hath shined bright. Caesar's wedlock are you: Your golden grace, whereof he took the view. Him prisoner caught, and did him surely bind, So much the more, how much Senec his mind Did seek to change, and wild from love to wield. And Venus chief in love hath made him yield. O in beauty passing all, what beds then down More soft, have borne thy weight when thou with crown Didst sit in mids of court the Senate all. At thy great beauty aghast, thou didst appall. Whilst thou the Gods with perfume sendest fine, And sacred altars drenched with thankful wine, Thy head attired with veil of yellow hue By Caesar's side thou went'st as princess new: When he aloft extolled above the rest, With haughty courage merrily went to feast. Like as king Peleus went sometimes to take Queen Tethis, whom salt seas foam bred, his make. Whose briding chambers, banquet wise ydrest, The Gods vouchsafed to hallow with their hest, Both they that rule in skies and eke in Seas. But tell, O Lady, tell, if it you please, What sudden chance doth shade your beauties light. What means your colour change from red to white? What moves those trickling tears, how stands your plight? With dreams, and grisly sights, this last night, Nurse, My mind was troubled sore, but frayed much worse. For when sir Phoebe his weary course had rid, While quiet resting night each thing shaded, My senses weary fell in slumber deep, While Nero me within his arms did clepe. Resolving limbs, at length 'gan sleep discharge, And long I rest not under quiets targe, For lo, I saw a rout that brought me fear, Come to my chamber with dishevelled hair: The Matrons sage of Latin land did mourn, And sounded shrieking sighs as though forlorn They were, the dolefulst wights that live on ground. And oft among the warlike trumpets sound, I saw my husband's mother terribly stand, With threatening look bewrayed with blood in hand A light fire brand she bore which oft she shook, And made me go with her through fearful look. When down we came through opened earth she led The way, I after went with bowing head, And musing much thereat, mark what I say, My bed, methought I saw, wherein I lay, When first espoused I was to Rufe Chrispine: And he methought, with first son of his line, With many following them against me fast Did come, and me to clepe did swift his haste, And as he wonted was he kissed me oft, Then rushed into my house with pace not soft
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Nuce, ThomasPseudo-Seneca
Publication year (edition)
1581
First performance / composition (Annals)
1566
First performance (BritDrama)
1566 [summer]
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Translation;Nonprofessional;Closet/Unacted
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 82 · TCP A11909 · DEEP 5015.09
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1174–1232 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 18 of 23 in this edition
Length
486 words · 655 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T60 — Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and political exemplarscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.763 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
FRom out of ſpouſal bower diſmayd with feare, Whither go you? what ſecrets daughter deare Vnknowen, makes you to looke ſo drouſely? Why ſpungelike lokes your face wt tears frō eye That fell? of truth the tyme deſyred long, And wiſhed for by prayers, and vowes among Hath ſhyned bright. Caeſars wedlock are you: Your golden grace, whereof he tooke the view. Him priſoner caught, and did him ſurely bynde, So much the more, how much Senec his mynd Did ſeeke to chaunge, and wild from loue to weeld. And Venus chiefe in loue hath made him yeeld. O in beauty paſſing all, what beds then downe More ſoft, haue borne thy weight when thou with crowne Didſt ſit in middes of court the Senate all. At thy great beauty agaſt, thou didſt appall. Whylſt thou the Goddes with perfume ſendeſt fyne, And ſacred alters drencht with thankful wyne, Thy head attyrd with veyle of yellow hiew By Caeſars ſide thou wentſt as princeſſe new: When he aloft extold aboue the reſt, With hauty courage merily went to feaſt. Like as kyng Peleus went ſometymes to take Queene Tethis, whom ſalt ſeas fome bred, his make. Whoſe bridinge chambers, banquet wiſe ydreſt, The Gods vouchſaft to hallow with their heſt, Both they that rule in ſkyes and eake in Seas. But tel, O Lady, tell, if it you pleaſe, What ſodayne chaūce doth ſhade your beautyes light. What meanes your colour chaūge from red to white? What moues thoſe trickling tears, how ſtandes your plight? With dreames, and grieſly ſightes, this laſt night, Nurſe, My mynd was troubled ſore, but frayd much worſe. For when ſir Phoebe his weary courſe had ryd, Whyle quiet reſtyng night each thing ſhadid, My ſences weary fel in ſlumber deepe, Whyle Nero me within his armes did cleepe. Reſoluing lims, at length gan ſleepe diſcharge, And long I reſt not vnder quiets targe, For loe, I ſaw a route that brought me feare, Come to my chaumber with diſheueled hayre: The Matrons ſage of Latin land did mourne, And ſounded ſhryking ſighes as though forlorne They were, the dolefulſt wightes that liue on ground. And oft among the warlike trumpets ſound, I ſawe my huſbands mother teribly ſtand, With threatning looke berayed with boud in hand A light fyre brand ſhe bare which oft ſhe ſhooke, And made mee goe with her through feareful loke. When downe we came through op'ned earth ſhee led The way, I after went with bowing hed, And muſing much therat, marke what I ſay, My bed, me thought I ſaw, wherin I laye, When firſt eſpouſde I was to Rufe Chriſpyne▪ And hee me thought, with firſt ſonne of his lyne, With many following them agaynſt me faſt Did come, and me to cleepe did ſwift his haſt, And as he wonted was he ki me oft, Then ruſht into my houſe with pace not ſoft