Hercules Oetaeus (Hercules on Mount Oeta) (Seneca's Tenth Tragedy) · chunk 12 of 44
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.79 · 488 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
Wilt thou thy spouse destroy, On whom the stepdame's spite yet had no power to work annoy? The wraths of heavenly minds do make them blessed on whom they light So doth not spite of mortal men. Oh silly wretched wight For bear thy rage, and fear the worst, man's force may not assail Him, that against the power of hell, and death could once prevail. I'll venture on the dint of sword. Thy wrath (dear foster child) Is greater than the crime, that hath thy Hercules defiled. With equal malice measure faults. Alas why dost thou bring So great and sore, a penalty upon so small a thing? Let not thy grief be greater, than the sorrow thou sustains. Set you it light that with our wedlock linked an harlot reigns? Nay rather think it still to much, that doth thy sorrows breed. And is the Ioue of Hercules revolt from thee in deed? 'tis not revolt, dear foster Dame, fast in my bones it sticks: But ire boils hot in burning breast, when love to anger pricks. It is almost a common guise, that wedded wives do haunt, Their husband's hearts by magic Art, and witchcraft to enchant. In winter could I charmed have the woods, to make them sprout. And forced the thunder dint recoil, that hath been bolting out. With waltering surges I have shook the seas amid the calm. I smoothed have the wrestling waves, and laid down every walm. The dry ground gaped hath like gulfs, & out new springs have gushed. The roaring rocks have quaking stirred, & none the rest hath pushed. Hell glounimy gales I have burst cape, where grisly ghosts all hushed Have stood & answering at my charm the goblins grim have scold. The threefold headed hound of hell with barking throats hath hold. Thus both the seas, the land, the heavens, & hell bow at my beck. Noon day to midnight, to and fro turns at my charming check. At my enchantment every thing declines from nature's law. Our charm shall make his stomach stoop, & bring him more in awe. What herbs do grow in Pontus' sea? Or else on Pindus' hill? To trounce this matchless champton, where shall I find the ill? The magic verse enchants the Moon from Starry skies to ground, And fruitful harvest is thereby in barren winter found. The whisking flames of lightning leams oft sorcery doth stay. And noontide topsy-turvy lost doth dim the dusky day. And leave the welkin to the stars, and yet not cause him stxsoupe. The Gods themselves by charm of love have forced been to droop. Perhaps he shall be won by one, and yield to her the spoil. So love shall be to Hercules the last and latest toil. By all the host of heavenly powers, and as thou seest me fear, The secrets that I shall attempt, in council see thou bear:
seed 43: T17 · seed 44: T19 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Wilt thou thy ſpouſe deſtroy, On whom y• ſtepdames ſpite yet had no power to work annoy? The wrathes of heauenly mindes do make thē bleſt on whō they light So doth not ſpite of mortall men. Oh ſilly wretched wight For beare thy rage, and feare the worſt, mans force may not aſſayle Him, that agaynſt the power of hell, and death coulde once preuayle. Ile venter on the dint of ſwerd. Thy wrath (deare foſter child) Is greater then the crime, that hath thy Hercules defilde. With egall mallice meaſure ſaultes. Alas why doſt thou bring So great and ſore, a penalty vpon ſo ſwale a thinge? Let not thy griefe be greater, then the ſorrow thou ſuſtaynes. Set you it light that with our wedlocke linkt an harlot raygnes Nay rather thinke it ſtill to much, that doth thy ſorrows breede. And is the Ioue of Hercules reuolt from thee in deede? T'is not reuolt, deare foſter Dame, faſt in my bones it ſtickes: But yre boyles hoate in burning breaſt, when loue to anger prickes. It is almoſt a common guiſe, that wedded wyues doe haunte, Theyr huſbands hearts by magicke Arte, and witchcraft to enchaunte. In winter coulde I charmed haue the woods, to make them ſprout. And forſt the thunder dint recoyle, that hath bin boulting out. With waltring ſurges I haue ſhooke the ſeas amid the calme. I ſmoothed haue the wraſtling waues, and lade downe euery walme. The dry groūd gaped hath like gulphs, & out new ſprings haue guſht. The roring rocks haue quaking ſturd, & none therest hath puſht. Hell glounimy gales I haue braſt cape, where griſly ghoſts all huſht Haue ſtood & aunſwering at my charme the goblins grim haue ſcoulde. The threefolde headed hounde of hell wt barking throates hath houlde. Thus both the ſeas, the lande, the heauens, & hell bowe at my becke. Noone day to midnight, to and froe turnes at my charming checke. At my enchauntment euery thing declynes from natures lawe. Our charme ſhall make his ſtomacke ſtoupe, & bring him more in awe. What hearbes doe grow in Pontus ſea? Or els on Pindus hill? To trownce this macheleſſe champton, where ſhall I finde the ill? The magicke vearſe uchaunts the Moone from Starry ſkies to groūd, And fruictfull harueſt is thereby in barren winter found. The whiſking flames of lightning leames oft ſorcery doth ſtay. And noonetyde ropſy tury oſt doth dim the duſky day. And leaue the welkin to the ſtarres, and yet not cauſe him ſtxsoupe. The Gods them ſelues by charme of loue haue forced bin to droupe. Perhap hee ſhall be woon by one, and yeelde to her the ſpoyle. So loue ſhall be to Hercules the laſt and lateſt toyle. By all the hoſte of heauenly powers, and as thou ſeeſt mee feare, The ſecrets that I ſhall attempt, in councell ſee thou beare: