Hercules Furens (Mad Hercules) (Seneca's First Tragedy) · chunk 26 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 0.85 · 498 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.
Thy grievous woe is there, The crime thy stepdames: this mischance no fault of thine hath here. From every part now father throw in wrath thy thunder's might, And of thy son forgetful now with cruel hand requite At lest thy nephews, let the world that bears the stars sound out. And let both th'one and th'other pole, fling down thy flames about: And let the banks of Caspian sea my bounden body tear, And greedy foul. Wherefore do of Prometheus' lack hear The rocks? with huge and haughty top let now prepared be, Both feeding beasts and fowls, the side of Caucas turn to see, And bare of woods, the isle that bridge of Scithe that thereby stands Simplegas joins, both here and there let it my bounden hands Stretch out abroad: and when with course returned accusstom'dly They shall together drive, and shall the rocks toss up to sky With banks together being thrust, and eke the middle seay, Let me bet ween the mountains lie unquiet restless stay But building up with wood thrown on a heaped ply on high My body thus with wicked blood besprent, why burn not I? So, so it must be done: to hell I Hercles' will restore. Not yet his heart astounded lacks his raging tumult sore, But wraths hath turned: and which of rage is property and ire Against himself he rageth now The furies places dire And dungeon deep of sprites in hell and place of tormentry To guilty ghosts and banishment if any yet do lie Beyond Erebus, yet unknown to Cerberus and me, There hide me ground to farthest bond of Tartarus to see. To tarry there I'll go. O breast of mine to fierce and stout: Who you my children thus dispersed through all my house about, May worthily enough bewail? in all my evils yet This countenance hard can never weep, a sword now hither set: My shafts reach hither, hither reach my mighty club also: To thee my weapons break I will, to thee my son a two I'll knap my bows, and eke my club, this block of heavy weight Shall to thy sprites be burned lo: this self same quiver fraught With Lerney shafts to funeral of thine shall like wise go. Let all my weapon's penance pay and you unhappy to Even with my weapons burn I will, O stepdame's hands of mine. whoever yet to ignorance hath given name of crime? Full oftentimes did error great the place of guilt obtain. 'tis need to be a Hercles' now, this heap of ill sustain. Not so, hath shame yet given place with fury drowned quite: But peoples all I rather should drive from my wicked sight. My weapons, weapons I quickly crave to me Withdraw to be restored again: if sound my mind now be, Restore to me my weapons: if yet last my rage of mind, Than father flee: for I the way to death myself shall find.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1224–1271 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 26 of 28 in this edition
Length
498 words · 638 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T20 — Hercules: labours, suffering and virtuecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.849 (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)
Thy greuous woe is ther, The cryme thy ſtepdames: this miſchaunce no falt of thyne hath here. From euery part now father throw in wrath thy thunders mighte, And of thy ſonne forgetful now with cruel hand requighte At leaſt thy nephewes, let the world that beares the ſtarrs ſounde out. And let both th'one and th'other poale, flyng downe thy flames aboute: And let the bankes of Caſpyan ſea my bounden body teare, And gredy foule. Wherfore do of Prometheus lacke heare The rockes? with huge and haughty top let now prepared be, Both feeding beaſtes and foules, the ſyde of Caucas turne to ſee, And bare of woods, the yle that bridge of Scithe that therby ſtandes Simplegas ioynes, both here and there let it my bounden handes Stretch out abroade: and when with courſe return'de accuſtomd'ly They ſhall togeather dryue, and ſhall the rockes toſſe vp to ſkye With bankes togeather beyng thruſt, and eke the middle ſeay, Let me bet weene the mountaynes lye vnquiet reſtleſſe ſtay But building vp with wood throwne on a heaped plie on he My body thus with wicked bloud eſprinct, why bute not I? So, ſo yt muſ be done: to hell I Hercles will reſtore. Not yet his hart aſtonted lackes his ragyng ſore, But wrath hath turnd: and which of rage is proprty and yre Agaynſt himſelfe he rageth now The furies places dire And dungeon depe of ſprites in hell and place of tormentry To gylty ghoſtes and baniſhment yf any yet do lye Beyond Erebus, yet vnknowen to Cerberus and mee, There hyde me ground to fartheſt bond of Tartarus to ſee. To tary there Ile goe. O breſt of myne to fierce and ſtoute: Who you my children thus diſperſt through all my houſe about, May worthely enough bewayle? in all my euils yet This countnaunce hard can neuer weepe, a ſword now hether ſet: My ſhaftes reach hether, hyther reach my mighty club alſo: To thee my weapons breake I wi, to thee my ſonne a two Ile knappe my bowes, and eke my clubbe, this blocke of heauy wayghte Shal to thy ſprites be burned loe: this ſelfe ſame quiuer frayght With Lerney ſhaftes to funerall of thyne ſhall like wyſe goe. Let all my weapons penance pay and you vnhappy to Euen with my weapons burne I wil, O ſtepdames handes of myne. Who euer yet to ignoraunce hath geuen name of cryme? Ful oftentymes did errour greate the place of gylt obtayne. T'is neede to be a Hercles now, this heape of yll ſuſtayne. Not ſo, hath ſhame yet geuen place with fury drowned quight: But peoples all I rather ſhould dryue from my wicked ſight. My weapons, weapons I quickly craue to mee Withdraw to be reſtoard agayne: if ſound my mynd now bee, Reſtore to me my weapons: if yet laſt my rage of mynd, Then father flee: for I the waye to death my ſelfe ſhalfynde.