Hercules Oetaeus (Hercules on Mount Oeta) (Seneca's Tenth Tragedy) · chunk 38 of 44
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.84 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
Did say to me, have Philoctet, on thee I it bestow, This same is it that Hydra with his swarming heads did know. This did fetch down the stymphal fowls, and all that we have daunt, Go thou with this let victory, and happiness thee haunt, For never shall thou shoot against thy foes with these but speed. If at a bird amid the clouds thou aim she dies indeed. These certain shafts shall bring thy mark down from the azure sky, This bow shall not deceive thy hand, full oft I did it try, And made it meet to bear a shaft, and cast his level dew. Thine arrows shall not fail thine aim if that thou nock them true, I ask but only this of thee, put fire to the Stack, Bestow on me my funeral flame to bring me to my wrack. This knarry Club (quoth he) the which no hand shell ever loss Shall only with his Hercules in fire go to loss, This also (quoth he) shouldst thou have if thou could wield the same, Beside his master let it lie to help toward the flame. And then beside him down he lays the lions vayry skin To burn with him: the shaggy case hid all the pile within. The people sobbed, and none there was but sorrow strained his tears. The mother mad for eager grief her breast all bare she bears, And naked down tooth Navel stead displays her tender teats. And languishing with wringed hands her naked dugs she bears And cryeth out vpon the Gods on Ioue himselfe shee caes, Her shrieking rang through all the place so womanlike she yells, Be still (quoth he) good mother: force your showers of tears to cease. Your dreary dole disgraceth much the death of Hercules. Wail secretly unto yourself: why make ye Iuno glad, To see that you a weeping day with store of tears have had? (It doth her good to see her bawds, to stand with weeping eyes.) Forbear, forbear your malady, 'tis deadly sin for ye, To tear the tears, and rent the womb, that first did foster me. And as he blustered giving grunts when erst he led in chain The hound about the towns of Greece what time he came again Triumphing over conquered hell defying Pluto's might, And dreadful destiny: so on the fire he lay upright. What conqueror ever sat in coach with such a cheerful grace? What tyrant did control his folk by law with such a face? How hushed was all thing at his death? himself he could not weep And also we had clean forgot the wound of sorrows deep None doth lament him at his death now were it shame to wail: Alemen (whom nature ought to move) her tears now do her fail. And thus as ill as was the son the mother stood almost. But at his burning did he not call on the heavenly host, Remembering Ioue to hear his suit.
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)
Did ſay to mee, haue Philocktet, on thee I it beſtow, This ſame is it that Hydra with his ſwarming heads did know. This did fetch downe the ſtimphall foules, and all that wee haue daunt, Goe thou with this let victory, and happineſſe thee haunt, For neuer ſhall thou ſhute agaynſt thy foes with theſe but ſpeede. If at a byrde amid the clowdes thou aame ſhee dies indeede. Theſe certayne ſhaftes ſhall bring thy marke down from the azur ſky, Thys bow ſhall not deceaue thy hand, full oft I did it try, And made it meete to beare a ſhaft, and caſt his leauell dew. Thyne arrowes ſhall not fayle thyne aame if that thou nock them trew, I aſke but only this of thee, put fier to the Stack, Beſtow on mee my funerall flame to bryng me to my wrack. This knarry Club (quoth hee) the which no hand ſhell euer loſſe Shall onely with his Hercules in fier goe to loſſe, This alſo (quoth hee) ſhouldſt thou haue if thou could weild the ſame, Beſide his maiſter let it lye to help towarde the flame. And then beſide him down hee layes the Lyons vayry ſkin To burne with him: the ſhaggy caſe hid all the pyle within. The people ſobde, and none there was but ſorrow ſtraynde his teares. The mother mad for egar griefe her breaſt all bare ſhee beares, And naked downe toth Nauill ſteade diſplayes her tender teates. And languiſhing with wringed hands her naked dugges ſhee beares And cryeth out vpon the Gods on Ioue himſelfe ſhee caes, Her ſhriking rang through all place ſo womanlike ſhee yalles▪ Be ſtill (quoth hee) good mother: force your ſhowres of teares to ceaſe. Your dreary dole disgraceth much the death of Hercules. Wayle ſecretly vnto your ſelfe: why make ye Iuno glad, To ſe that you a weeping day with ſtore of teares haue had? (It doth her good to ſee her bawdes, to ſtand with weeping eyes.) Forbeare, forbeare your malady, tis deadly ſinne for yee, To teare the teares, and rent the wombe, that firſt did foſter me. And as he bluſtred giuing gruntes when carſt he led in chayne The hownd aboute the townes of Grece what tyme he came agayne Tryumphing ouer conquerd hel defying Plutoës might, And dreadful deſteny: ſo on the fyre he lay vpright. What conquerour euer ſat in coatch with ſuch a chereful grace? What tyrant did controll his folke by law with ſuch a face? How huſht was al thing at his death? himſelfe he could not weepe And alſo we had cleane forgot the wound of ſorrowes deepe None doth lament him at his death now were it ſhame to wayle: Alemen (whom nature ought to moue) her teares now do her fayle. And thus as yll as was the ſonne the mother ſtoode almoſt. But at his burning did hee not call on the heauenly hoſt, Remembring Ioue to heare his ſuite.