Hercules Oetaeus (Hercules on Mount Oeta) (Seneca's Tenth Tragedy) · chunk 23 of 44
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm typicality 0.85 · 550 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
It will be quit whereas th'infernal fiends shall stint the strife And quit my guilty ghost: my conscience doth my hands condemn. But Pluta Prince of glummy gulf shall purge from slaughter them: Before thy banks I will appear forgetful Lethe's Lake, And being then a doleful ghost my husband will I take. But thou that wields the sceptre black of dark internal skies Apply thy toil: the heinous guilt that none durst enterprise, This ignorance hath overcome, Dame Iuno never dare To take away our Hercules. Thy plunging plagues prepare, Let Sisyphus' stone on my neck force my stooping shoulders shrink, And let the fleeting liquor from my gaping gums to sink. Yea let it mock my thirsty throat whenas I mean to drink, And thou that racks Ixion King of Thessayle O thou Wheel, My heinous hands deserved have thy swinging sway to feel, And let the greedy gripe scratch out these guts on either side, If Danaus' pitchers cease: by me the room shallbe supplied. Set open hell, take me Medea as partner of thy guilt. This hand of mine, than both of thine more cruel blood hath spilled More than thou did as in respect of mother to thy thylde. Or looking to thy brother's ghost whose gore hath thee defiled, Have with the Lady thou of Thrace for such a cruel wife, And the Althe that burned the brand of Meleager's life. Receive thy daughter now, deny me not thy babe to be: Why such a one should quail by you, some reason let us see: Ye honest matrons that enjoy the groves of holy wood Against me shut the heavens, or such whose hands with husbands blood Have been imbrued, if any of the fifty sisters dire Defying honest duty all that wedlock did require: But desperate dames with gory blades stood armed: in me let them See and allow their bloody hands that other will condemn. I will go get myself among the troop of cruel wives But they will shun such guilty hands as shred their husbands lives. O valiant spouse, a guiltless ghost, but guilty hands I have Ah silly woman, woe is me, that given light credit have O traitor Nessus while I meant by centaurs subtle charm To draw from Iole Hercles' love myself sustain the harm. Hence Phoebus hence, and thou O flickering life of her that lacks Her Hercules and givest day to wretches in their wracks. This is a dismal day: to thee Small penance yield I will And life with all: my woeful fate shall I continue still Deferring death, O spouse that of thy hand I may be slain, And doth their any spark of life yet in thy breast remain? Or can thy hand yet draw the bow Sarmacian shaft to cast, Do weapons cease, and have thy feeble hands given up at last Thy bow? but if thy hardy wife to thee a tool may reach I long to perish of thy hand, mine hour yet will I stretch Like guiltless Licas mangle me disperse in other towns My corpses, and hurl me to a world beyond the travails bounds. Trounce me like monster Arcady or aught that did rebel, And yet thou shalt do nought but that becomes an husband well.
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)
It wilt be quit whereas th'infernall endes ſhall ſtint the ſtryfe And quit my guilty ghoſt: my conſcience doth my hands condem. But Pluta Prince of glummy goulph ſhall purge from ſlaughter them: Before thy bankes I will appeare forgetfull Lethes Lake, And being then a dolefull ghoſt my huſband will I take. But thou that wields the ſcepter blacke of darke internall ſkies Apply thy toyle: the haynous guilt that nons durſt enterpryſe, This ignoraunce hath ouercom, Dame Iuno neuer dare To take away our Hercules. Thy plunging plagues prepare, Let Siſiphs ſtone on my neck force my ſtouping ſhoulders ſhrynke, And let the fleeting licour from my gaping gums to ſynke. Yea let it mock my thyrſty throate when as I meane to drynke, And thou that rackes Ixion King of Theſſayle O thou Wheele, My haynous handes deſerued haue thy ſwinging ſway to feele, And let the greedy gripe ſcratch out theſe guts on eyther ſide, If Danaus pitchers ceaſe: by mee the rome ſhalbe ſupplide. Set open hell, take mee Medea as of thy giult. This hand of myne, then both of thyne more cruell bloud hath ſpilt More then thou did as in reſpect of mother to thy thylde. Or loking to thy brothers ghoſt whoſe gore hath thee defylde, Haue with the Lady thou of Thrace for ſuch a cruel wyfe, And the Althe that burnt the brand of Meleagers life. Receyue thy daughter now, denye me not thy babe to bee: Why ſuch a one ſhould quayle by you, ſome reaſon let vs ſee: Ye honeſt matrons that enioy the groues of holy wood Agaynſt me ſhut the heauens, or ſuch whoſe handes wt huſbandes blood Haue bene imbrewde, if any of the fifty ſiſters dyre Defying honeſt duty all that wedlocke did require: But deſprat dames with goary blades ſtood armde: in me let them See and allow theyr bloudy handes that other wil condem. I wil go get my ſelfe among the troupe of cruel wyues But they wil ſhunne ſuch gylty handes as ſhred their huſbandes liues. O valiant ſpouſe, a guilſſe ghoſt, but gylty handes I haue Ah ſilly woman, woe is me, that giuen light credite haue O traytor Neſſus while I ment by Centaures ſubtil charme To draw from Iole Hercles loue my ſelfe ſuſtayne the harme. Hence Phoebus hence, and thou O ſlickring life of her that lackes Her Hercules and giueſt day to wretches in their wrackes. This is a diſmal day: to thee Small penaunce yeld I will And life with all: my woeful fate ſhal I continue ſtil Deferryng death, O ſpouſe that of thy hand I may be ſlayne, And doth their any ſparke of life yet in thy breaſt remayne? Or can thy hand yet draw the bow Sarmacian ſhaft to caſt, Do weapons ceaſe, and haue thy feble handes giuen vp at laſt Thy bow? but if thy hardy wyfe to thee a toole may reache I long to peryſh of thy hand, myne hower yet wil I ſtretche Like gyltleſſe Licas mangle me diſperſe in other townes My corpes, and hurle me worlde beyond the trauayles bownes. Trounce mee like monſter Arcadie or ought that did rebell, And yet thou ſhalt do nought but that becommes an huſband wel.