Hercules Furens (Mad Hercules) (Seneca's First Tragedy) · chunk 25 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 0.80 · 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.
Could pluck away? who taken hath the spoils so great as these And who was he that feared not even sleep of Hercules? To see my conqueror me likes, it likes me him to know Rise victor up, what new son hath my father gotten now Heaven being left? at birth of whom might ever stayed be A longer night then, was in mine? what mischief do I see? My children lo do lie on ground with bloody slaughter slain? My wife is killed: what Lycus doth the kingdom yet obtain? Who durst so heinous guilts as these at Thebes take in hand When Hercles' is returned? who so Ismenus waters land, Who so Actaeon's fields or who with double seas beset The shaken Pelops kingdoms dost of Dardan dwell on yet Help me: of cruel slaughter show who may the author be. Let rage my ire and all: my foe he is who so to me Shows not my foe dost thou yet hide Alcides victory? Come forth, even whether thou revenge the cruel chariots high Of Bloody Thracian king or if thou Gerion's cattle quite Or lords of Libya, no delay there is with thee to fight. Behold I naked stand, although even with my weapons lo Thou me unarmed set upon. Wherefore fleeth Theseus so, And eke my father from my sight? their faces why hide they? Defer your weepings, and who did my wife and children slay Thus all at once, me tell. Wherefore O father dost thouwhusht? But tell thou Theseus, but Theseus with thy accustomed trust. Each of them silent hides away their bashful countenances, And privily they shed their tears in so great ills as these, Of what ought we ashamed to be? doth ruler yet of might Of Argos town, or hateful band of soldiers apt to fight Of Lycus dying, us oppress with such calamity? By praise of all my noble acts I do desire of thee O father, and of thy great name approved to me always The prosperous power declare to me, who did my household flay? Whose prey lay I? Let thus thine ills in silence overpass. That I should unrevenged be? Am, Revenge oft hurtful was. Did ever man so grievous ills without revenge sustain? Who's ever greater feared. Then these O father yet again May any greater thing, or else more grievous feared be? How great apart is it thou wotst of thy calamity? Take mercy father, lo I lift to thee my humble hands. What meaneth this? my hand fleeth back, some privy guilt their stands Whence comes this blood? or what doth mean flowing with death of child The shaft imbrued with slaughter once of Lerney monster killed? I see my weapons now, the hand I seek no more to wit. Whose hand could bend this bow but mine? or what right at me but it, Could string the bow that unto me even scantly doth obey? To you I turn: O father dear, is this my guilt I pray? They held their peace: it is mine own.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1175–1223 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 28 in this edition
Length
514 words · 663 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T20 — Hercules: labours, suffering and virtuecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.800 (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)
Could plucke away? who taken hath the ſpoyles ſo great as theſe And who was he that feared not euen ſleepe of Hercules? To ſee my conquerour me lykes, yt lykes me hym to know Ryſe victor vp, what new ſonne hath my father gotten now Heauen beynge left? at byrth of whom myght euer ſtayd bee A longer night then, was in myne? what miſchiefe do I ſee? My children loe do lye on ground with bloudy ſlaughter ſlayne? My wyfe is kild: what Lycus doth the kingdome yet obtayne? Who durſt ſo haynous giltes as theſe at Thebes take in hand When Hercles is returnd? who ſo Iſmenus waters land, Who ſo Acteons fieldes or who with double ſeas beſet The ſhaken Pelops kingdomes doſt of Dardan dwell on yet Helpe me: of cruel ſlaughter ſhow who may the author bee. Let rage my yre and all: my foe he is who ſo to me Shewes not my foe doſt thou yet hyde Alcides victorly? Come forth, euen whether thou reuenge the cruel charyots hye Of Bloudy Thracian king or yf thou Gerions catell quight Or lordes of Lybia, no delay there is with thee to fight. Beholde I naked ſtande, although euen with my weapons loe Thou me vnarmed ſette vppon. Wherfore fleeth Theſeus ſoe, And eke my father from my ght? theyr faces why hyde they? Deferre your weepings, and who did my wyfe and children ſley Thus all at once, me tell. Wherfore O father doſt thou whuſh? But tell thou Theſeu, but Theſeu with thy accuſtom'd truſte. Ech of them ſylent hydes away their baſhefull countnaunces, And priuily they ſhed their teares in ſo great ils as theſe, Of what ought wee aſham'de to be? doth ruler yet of might Of Argos towne, or hateful band of ſowldiars apt to fight Of Lycus dying, vs oppreſſe with ſuch calamity? By prayſe of all my noble actes I do deſyre of thee O father, and of thy great name approu'de to me alway The proſperous powre declare to mee, who did my houſhold flay? Whoſe pray lay I? Let thus thyne ylles in ſylens ouerpas. That I ſhould vnreuenged bee? Am, Reuenge oft hurtful was. Did euer man ſo greeuous yls without reuenge ſuſtayne? Whoſ euer greater fearde. Then theſe O father yet agayne May any greater thing, or els more greuous feared be? How great apart is it thou woſt of thy calamity? Take mercy father, lo I lift to thee my humble hands. What meaneth this? my hand fleeth backe, ſome priuy gyt their ſtandes Whence comes this bloud? or what doth mean flowing wt death of child The ſhaft imbrewd with ſlaughter once of Lerney monſter kilde? I ſee my weapons now, the hand I ſeeke no more to witte. Whoſe hand could bend this bow but myne? or what right at me but it▪ Could ſtring the bow that vnto mee euen ſcantly doth obay? To you I turne: O father deare, is this my gylt I pray? They held their peace: it is myne own.