Hercules Furens (Mad Hercules) (Seneca's First Tragedy) · chunk 22 of 28
Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1561 · first performed or written 1561 (Annals) tragedy; literary play T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.89 · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
His other br●…ods I overthrow will quite, And corners all. What stay I yet? to me a greater fight Remains then all Mycenes lo, that rocky stones should all Of Cyclops being overturnde with hand of mine, down fall. Let shake both here: and there the house, with all stays overthrown, Let break the posts: and quite let shrink the shaken pillar down: Let all the palace fall at once. I here yet hidden see The son of wicked father. Lo his flattering hands to thee applying to thy knees doth crave his life with piteous moan. O wicked guilt, full sad, and eke abhorred to look upon, His humble right hand caught he hath, and raging round about Him r●…lled twice, or thrice hath cast. his head resoundeth out, The sprinkled houses with the brain of him thrown out are wet. But she poor wretch her little son in bosom hiding yet Lo Megara, like one in rage doth from the corners flee. although runagate in bosom of the thunder hid thou be, This right hand shall from every where Thee seek, and bring to sight. where goest thou wretch? what lurking dens, seek●…e thou to take, or flight? No place of safeguard is if once be Hercles stirred with ire: But do thou rather him embrace, and with thy meek desire Assay t' assuage him. Husband spare us I beseech thee now, And know thy Megara, this son thy cowntenaunce doth show, And bodies pitch: beholdest thou how his hands up lifteth he? I hold my stepdame: follow on dew penawnce pay to me, And bownden Ione from filthy bond●… deliver free away: But I before the mother will this little monster slay. Thou mad man whither goest thou? wilt thou thine own blood shed? Th'infant with father's fiery face astonnyde all for dread, Died even before the wownde: his fear●… hath took away his life. And now likewise his heavy club is shaken toward his wife: He broken hath the bones, her head from blocklike body gone Is quite, nor any where it stays. dar'st thou this look upon To long lived age? if mourning do thee grieve, thou hast then lo The death prepared. Do thou thy breast upon his weapon's throw, Or else this club with slaughter stained of monsters slain that be, Now hither turn. thy parent false, unfit for name of thee kid hens away, lest he should be to thy renown a let. Which way the father toward thy death dost thou thyself cast yet? Or whither goest thou mad man? flee, and lie thou closely hid, And yet from hands of Hercules this only mischief rid. 'tis well, the house of shameful king is now quite overthrown. To thee O spouse of greatest Ioue I have lo beaten down This offered flock: I gladly have fulfyllde my wishes all Full meet for thee, and Argos now give other offerings shall. Thou hast not son yet all performed, fill up the sacrifice. Loeth offering doth at th'altars stand, it waits thy hand likewise
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)
His other brods I ouerthrowe wyll quyght, And corners all. What stay I yet? to me a greater fyght Remaynes then all Mycenes loe, that rockye stones shoulde all Of Cyclops beeyng ouerturnde with hande of myne, downe fall. Let shake bothe here: and there the house, with all stayes ouerthrowne, Let breake the poasts: and quight let shrinke the shaken pyller downe: Let all the palayce fall at once. I here yet hydden see The sonne of wycked father. Loe his flattryng handes to thee Applyeng to thy knees doothe craue his lyfe with pyteous mone. O wycked gylte, full sadde, and eke abhorde to looke vppone, His humble ryght hande caught he hath, and ragyng rownde abowt Him rlled twyse, or thryse hath cast. his head resoundeth owt, The sprynkled howses with the brayne of hym throwne owt are wet. But shee poore wretche her lyttle sonne in bosome hydyng yet Loe Megara, lyke one in rage doothe from the corners flee. Thowgh runnagate in bosome of the thundrer hydde thou bee, This ryght hande shall from euery where Thee seeke, and bryng to syght. wher goest thow wretch? what lurkyng denns, seeke thou to take, or flyght? No place of sauegarde ys yf once bee Hercles styrde with yre: But doo thou rather hym enbrace, and with thy meeke desyre Assaye t' asswage hym. Husbande spare vs I beseeche thee nowe, And knowe thy Megara, this sonne thy cowntenaunce doothe showe, And bodyes pytche: beholdst thow how his hands vp lyfteth hee? I holde my stepdame: followe on dewe penawnce paye to mee, And bownden Ione from fylthy bond delyuer free awaye: But I before the mother wyll this lyttell monster slaye. Thou mad man whither goest thow? wylte thou thyne owne bloode sheade? Th'infant with fathers fyry face astonnyde all for dreade, Dyed euen before the wownde: his fear hath tooke away his lyfe. And nowe lykewyse his heauy clubbe is shaken towarde his wyfe: He broaken hath the bones, her head from blocklyke bodye gone Is quight, nor any where it stayes. darste thow this looke vppone To long lyude age? yf mournyng doo thee greue, thou hast then loe The deathe preparde. Doo thou thy breast vppon his weapons throe, Or ells this clubbe with slaughter staynde of monsters slayne that bee, Nowe hyther turne. thy parent false, vnfytte for name of thee Kyd hens away, least he shoulde be to thy renowne a let. Which waie y• father toward thy death dooste thow thy selfe caste yet? Or whyther goest thou madde man? flee, and lye thow cloasely hyd, And yet from handes of Hercules this onely myschiefe ryd. Tis well, the howse of shameful kyng ys nowe quyght ouerthrowne. To thee O spowse of greattest Ioue I haue loe beaten downe This offred flocke: I gladly haue fulfyllde my wyshes all Full meete for thee, and Argos nowe geeue other offryngs shall. Thow hast not sonne yet al performde, fyll vp the sacrifyse. Loeth offryng doothe at th'aultars stande, it waytes thy hande lykewyse