Hercules Oetaeus (Hercules on Mount Oeta) (Seneca's Tenth Tragedy) · chunk 20 of 44
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.89 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
By dying first for fainting fear, and while Alcydes held The quaking Carcase in his hand thou shalt (quoth he) be quelled And beaten with this fist of mine, O Gods eternal reign, Wretch Licas killeth Hercules, and hath his conqueror slain, But to another slaughter yet: for Hercules again Kills Lycas: thus the sacrifice of Gods with blood they stain, With Lycas thus his labours and thrown up to heaven they say, That with his dropping blood the clouds he stained all the way. even as the pitched dart of Gete with pith doth score the skies, Or as the whirling sting of Crete doth make the pellet rise: So swift he mounted up to heaven, but down his body dropped, And as his Carcase fell, among the rocks his neck it chopped. The grave prepared for their corpse (quoth Hercules) be still, I am no brainsteke frantic man, but lo this desperate ill More noisome is then rage or wrath, it calleth much my will To wreck my rage upon myself, his malady he scant bewrays: but fareth franticly: and he himself doth rent His limbs, and rifling them, with mighty hand asunder tears, And strives to strip himself of all th'apparel that he wears, And only this was it, of all the things that I do know, That past the power of Hercules yet stands he pulling so And plucketh of his limbs withal the vesture doth not lin To bring of lumps of filthy flesh the shirt sticks to the skin But what should ail the poison rank none knoweth what, nor why And yet there is good cause it oer of: now grovelling doth he lie And beats his face against the ground to water now he hies, But water cannot cool his heat, and now to shore he plies. And for his succour seckes to seas, at lengri, his men him calth We holding him (alas the whilst were able him to match Now in a keel amid the seas we launched were aloof, And Hercles' poise was hosted with a little southern puff My Ghost then left my careful corpse and darkness dimmed my sight Why stay I wretch? why doth this dreary deed make me affright. Her cope-fellow dame Iuno doth reclaim, and Ioue his son, The world must render him: then do as much as may be done, And boar my body with a sword such sour sauce is dew To her, whose cursed caitiff hand her love so lightly slew. O Ioue with fire and lightning flash destroy thy wretched Niece. Let not thy mighty hand be armed with a slender piece. Let burst the boult from skies wherewith thou wouldest Hydra burn. If Hercles' had not been thy son thereof to serve the turn Strike me with uncouth pestilence, and with such weapon smite, As may be far more irksome plague then all my stepdame's spite. drive forth those deadly darts that erst young Phaëthon overthrew
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)
By dying firſt for faynting feare, and while Alcyde▪ helde The quaking Carkas in his hand thou ſhalt (quoth he) be queld And beaten with this fiſt of myne, O Gods eternall raygne▪ Wretch Licas killeth Hercules, and hath his conqueroure ſlayne, But o another ſlaughter yet: for Hercules agayne Killes Lycas: thus the ſacrifyce of Gods with bloud they ſtayne, With Lycas thus his labours and throwne vp to heauen they ſay, That with his dropping bloud the cloudes he ſtayned all the way. Euen as the pitched dart of Gete with pith doth ſcore the ſkyes, Or as the whirling ſting of Creete doth make the pller ryſe: So ſwift he mounted vp to heauen, but downe his body dropte, And as his Carkas fel, among the rockes his necke it chopt. The graue prepared for their corps (quoth Hercules) beſtill, I am no brainſteke franticke man, but loe this defpret ill More noylome is theu rage or wrath, it caleth much my will To wrecke my rage vppon my ſelfe, his mallady he ſcant Bewryes: but fareth franttkly: and he himſelfe doth rent His limmes, and ryflyng them, with mighty hand a ſunder teares, And ſtriues to ſtrip him ſelfe of all th'apparell that he weares, And onely this was it, of all the thinges that I do know, That paſt the power of Hercules yet ſtandes he pulling ſo And plucketh of his limmes withall the veſture doth not linne To bring of lumpes of filthy fleſh the ſhyrt ſtickes to the ſkyne But what ſhould ayl the poyon ranke none knoweth what, nor whye And yet there is good cauſe it er of: now grouelyng doth he lye And beates his face agaynſt the ground to water now he hyes, But water cannot coole his heate, and now to ſhore he plyes. And for his ſucoure ſeckes to ſeas, at lengri, his men him calth We holding him (alas the whil'ſt were able him to match Now in a keele amid the ſeas we launched were aloofe, And Hercles payſe was hoſted with a litle ſoutherne puffe My Ghoſt then left my careful coarſe and darkneſſe dimd my ſight Why ſtay I wreche? why doth this dreary deede make mee afright. Her coapefellow dame Iuno doth reclayme, and Ioue his ſonne, The world muſt render him▪ then doe as much as may be donne, And boare my body with a ſworde ſuch ſower ſauce is dew To her, whoſe curſed caytiffe hand her loue ſo lightly ſlew. O Ioue with fier and lightning flaſh deſtroy thy wretched Neece. Let not thy mighty hand be armed with a ſlender peece. Let braſt the boult from ſkies wherewith thou wouldeſt Hydra burne. If Hercles had not bin thy ſonne thereof to ſerue the turne Strike mee with vcouth peſtilence, and with ſuch weapon ſmite, As may be farre more yrkeſome plague then all my ſtepdames ſpite. Driue forth thoſe deadly dartes that earſt young Phaëthon ouerthrew