Hercules Furens (Mad Hercules) (Seneca's First Tragedy) · chunk 14 of 28
Heywood, Jasper / Seneca, Lucius Annaeus · published 1581 · first performed or written 1561 (Annals) tragedy; literary play T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.84 · 503 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
I there could reign. the Chaos of eternal night of hell, And worse than night, the doleful Gods I have that there do dwell, And Fates subdued, the death contemned I am returned to light. What yet remains? I saw and showed the sprites of hell to sight: Appoint, if aught be more, dost thou my hands so long permit Iuno to cease? what thing bid'st thou to be subdued yet? But why do cruel soldiers hold the holy temples wide? And dread of armour sacred porch beset on every side? Do either else my great desires delude and mock mine eyes? Or hath the tamer of the world and Greeks renown likewise, Forsook the silent house, beset with cloud full sad to see? Is this my son? my members lo for joy amazed be. Oh son, the sure and safeguard late of Thebes in misery, See I thy body true indeed? or else deceived am I Mocked with thy sprite? art thou the same? these brawns of arms I know And shoulders, and thy noble hands from body high that grow. Whence (father) haps this ugliness, and why in mourning clad Is thus my wife? how haps it that with filth so foul bestead My children are? what misery doth thus my house oppress? The father in law is slain: the kingdom Licus doth possess. Thy sons, thy parent and thy wife to death pursueth he. Ungrateful laud, doth no man come that will an aider be. Of Hercles' house? and this beheld so great and heinous wrong Hath th'aided world? but why were, I the day in plaint so long? Let then my dye and this renown let strength obtain in haste, And of Alcider's enemies all let Lycus be the last. I driven am to go to shed the blood of enemy out. Watch Theseus that no sudden strength beset us here about: Me wars require, embracing yet defer O father dear, And wife defer them: Lycus shall to hell this message bear That I am now returned. The, Shake of O Queen on't of thine eyes This weeping face, and thou since that thy son is safe likewise Thy drupping tears refrain: if yet I Hercles' ever knew Then Lycus shall for Creon pay the pains to him full due. 'tis light, he shall, he doth and that's to light he hath it done. Now God that can them bring to pass, speed well our wishes soon, And come to help our weary woes. O noble hearted mate Of my stout son, of his renown declare us all the rate: How long away doth lead to place where sorry sprites doth dwell, And how the hard and heavy bonds the dog hath borne of hell. The deeds thou dost constrain to tell, that even to mind secure Are dreadful yet and horrible, scant yet the trust is sure Of vital air, sore blunted is the sharpness of my sight, And dulled eyes do scant sustain to see th'unwonted light.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 620–663 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 14 of 28 in this edition
Length
503 words · 649 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T20 — Hercules: labours, suffering and virtuecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.842 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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)
I there coulde raygne. the Chaos of eternall nyght of hell, And woorſe then night, the dolefull Gods I haue that there doe dwell, And Fates ſubdu'de, the death contemn'de I am return'de to light. What yet remaynes? I sawe and ſhow'de the ſpryghts of hell to ſight: Appoynt, if ought be moe, do'ſte thou my hands ſo long permit Iuno to ceaſſe? what thing byd'ſt thou to be ſubdued yet? But why doe cruell ſouldiars holde the holy temples wyde? And dread of armour ſacred porche beſet on euery ſyde? DOo eyther els my great deſyres delude and mocke myne eyes? Or hath the tamer of the world and Greekes renowme likewyſe, Forſooke the ſilent howſe, beſette with cloude full ſadde to ſee? Is this my ſonne? my members loe for ioy amaſed bee. Oh ſonne, the ſure and ſauegard late of Thebes in miſery, See I thy body true indeede? or els deceiu'de am I Mockt with thy ſprite? art thou y• ſame? theſe brawnes of armes I know And ſhoulders, and thy noble handes from body hie that grow. Whens (father) happes this vglines, and why in mourning clad Is thus my wyfe? how happes it that with filth ſo foule beſtad My children are? what miſery doth thus my houſe appreſſe? The father in law is ſlayne: the kingdome Licus doth poſſeſſe. Thy ſonnes, thy parent and thy wyfe to death purſueth hee. Vngrateful laud, doth no man come that will an ayder bee. Of Hercles houſe? and this behelde ſo great and haynous wronge Hath th'ayded world? but why were, I the day in playnt ſo long? Let then my dye and this renoume let ſtrength obtayne in haſte, And of Alcider enmies all let Lycus be the laſt. I driuen am to goe to ſhedde the bloud of enmye out. Watch Theſeu that no ſodayne ſtrength beſet vs here aboute: Me wares require, embracing yet deferre O father deare, And wyfe deferre them: Lycus ſhall to hell this meſſage beare That I am now returnd. The, Shake of O Queene ont of thyne eyes This weping face, and thou ſynce that thy ſonne is ſafe likewyſe Thy drupping teares refrayne: yf yet I Hercles euer knew Then Lycus ſhall for Creon paye the paynes to him ful due. T'is lyght, he ſhal, he doth and that's to light he hath it done. Now God that can them bring to paſſe, ſpede wel our wiſhes ſoone, And come to helpe our weary woes. O noble harted mate Of my ſtout ſonne, of his renowne declare vs all the rate: How long away doth leade to place where ſory ſprites doth dwell, And how the hard and heauy bondes the dog hath borne of hell. The deedes thou doſt conſtrayne to tell, that euen to mynde ſecure Are dredful yet and horrible, ſcant yet the truſt is ſure Of vitall ayre, ſore blunted is the ſharpneſſe of my ſight, And dulled eyes do ſcant ſuſtayne to ſee th'vnwoonted light.