Hercules Furens (Mad Hercules) (Seneca's First Tragedy) · chunk 24 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 0.89 · 514 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.
Let error blind, where it begun hath, go, For nought else now but only madness may Thee guiltless make: in next estate it stands To hurtless hands thy mischief not to know. Now strooken let with Hercules his hands Thy bosom sound: thine arms the world allow Were wont to bear, let grievous stripes now smite With conquering hand, and loud complaining cries, Let th'air now hear, let of dark pole and night The Queen them hear, and who ful fiercely lies That bears his necks in mighty chains fast bound, Low lurking Cerberus in deepest cave. Let Chaos all with clamour sad resound, And of broad sea wide open wafting wave. And th'air that felt thy weapons beter yet, but felt them though. The breasts with so great ills as these beset, With little stroke they must not beaten be. Let kingdoms three sound with one plaint and cry, And thou necks honour and defence to see, His arrow strong long hanged up on high, And quivers light the cruel stripes now l'myte On his fierce back his shoulders strong and stout Let oaken club now strike and post of might With knots full hard his breast load all about. Let even his weapons so great woes complain Not you poor babes mates of your father's praise, With cruel wound revenging kings again: Not you your limbs in Argos barriars plays, Are taught to turn with weapons strong to smie And strong of hand yet even now daring lo The weapons of the Scythian quiver light With steady hand to poise set out from bow. And stags to pierce that save themselves by flight And backs not yet full maned of cruel beast. To Stygian havens goeye of shade and night Go hurtless souls, whom mischief hath oppressed Even in first porch of life but lately had, And father's fury go unhappy kind O little children, by the way full sad Of journey known. Go see the angry kings. WHat place is this? what region? or of the world what coast? Where am I? under rise of sun or bond else uttermost. Of th'icy bear or else doth here of sea of Hespery The farthest ground appoint a bond for th'ocean sea to lie? What air draw we? to weary wight what ground is underset? Of truth we are returned from hell whence in my house down bet See I these bloody bodies? hath not yet my mind of cast Th'Infernal shapes? but after yet returned from hell at last Yet wander doth that belly heap before mine eyes to see? I am ashamed to grant, I quake, I know not what to me, I cannot tell what grievous ill my mind before doth know. Where is my parent? where is she with goodly children's show My noble hearty stomached spouse why doth my left side lack The lions spoil? which way is gone the cover of my back? And self same bed full soft for sleep of Hercules also? Where are my shafts? where is my bow? then from my living who
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1117–1174 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 28 in this edition
Length
514 words · 643 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T20 — Hercules: labours, suffering and virtuecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.887 (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)
Let errour blynd, where it begun hath, go, For naught elsnow but only madnes maye Thee gyltles make: in next eſtate it ſtandes To hurtles handes thy miſchiefe not to know. Now ſtroken let with Hercules his handes Thy boſome ſounde: thyne armes the worlde allow VVere wonte to beare, let greuous ſtrypes now ſmyte VVith conquering hande, and lowde complaying cryes, Let th'ayre now heare, let of darke pole and nighte The Queene them hear, and who fulfyercely lyes That beares his neckes in mighty chaynes faſt bounde, Low lurking Cerberus in deepeſt caue. Let Chaos all with clamour ſad reſound, And of broad ſea wide open wafting waue. And th'ayre that felt thy weapons beter yet, but felt them though. The breaſtes with ſo great yls as theſe beſet, VVith litle ſtroake they mnſt not beaten bee. Let kingdomes three ſound with one playnt and crye, And thou neckes honour and defence to ſee, His arrowe ſtrong longe hanged vp on hye, And quiuers light the cruell ſtripes now l'myte On his fierce backe his ſhouldars ſtrong and ſtout Let oken club now ſtrike and poaſt of might VVith knots ful hard his breee load all aboute. Let euen his weapons ſo great woes complayne Not you pore babes mates of your fathers praiſe, VVith cruell wound reuenging kinges agayne: Not you your lims in Argos barriars playes, Are taught to turne with weapons ſtrong to ſmie And ſtrong of hand yet euen now daring loe The weapons of the Scithian quiuer light VVith ſtedy hand to paiſe ſet out from bow. And ſtags to perce that ſaue them ſelues by flight And backes not yet ful maend of cruel beaſt. To Stigian hauens goeye of ſhade and night Goe hurtles ſoules, whom miſchiefe hath oppreſt Euen in fyrſt porch of lyfe but lately had, And fathers fury goe vnhappy kind O litle children, by the way ful ſad Of iourney knowen. Goe ſee the angry kynges. WHat place is this? what region? or of the world what coaſt? Where am I? vnder ryſe of ſunne or bond els vttermoſt. Of th'cy beare or els doth here of ſea of Hepery The fardeſt ground appoynt a bond for th'ocean ſea to lye? What ayre draw we? to weary wight what ground is vnderſet? Of truth we are returnd from hell whence in my houſe downe bet See I theſe bloudy bodyes? hath not yet my mynd of caſt Th'infernall ſhapes? but after yet returnd from hel at laſt Yet wander doth that belly heape before myne eys to ſee? I am aſham'de to graunt, I quake, I know not what to me, I cannot tell what greeuou yll my mynde before doth know. Where is my parent? where is ſhee with goodly childrens ſhow My noble harly ſtomackt ſpouſe why doth my left fyde lacke The lyons ſpoyle? which way is gone the couer of my backe? And ſelfe ſame bedde ful ſoft for ſlepe of Hercules alſo? Where are my ſhates? where is my bow? then from my liuing who