The Brazen Age (The Age of Brass) · chunk 37 of 40
Heywood, Thomas · published 1613 · first performed or written 1611 [1610-1611] (Annals) classical legend or myth · Queen Anne's Men T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.88 · 475 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
Never was Hercules so much himself, How will this news glad Deianeira's heart, Or how this sight enrage fair Omphale? All his dead honours he revives in this, And Greece shall once more echo with his fame. With this her present, I put on her love, Witness heaven, earth, and all you Peers of Greece, I wed her once more in this ornament, Her love and her remembrance sit to me More near by thousands then this robe can cleave. So now before Ioues Altar let us kneel, And make our peace with heaven, atone ourself With beauteous Deianeira our chaste wife And cast away the love of Omphale. Princes of Greece assist us with your thoughts, And let your prayers with ours ascend the Spears, For mortals orisons are sons to Ioue, And when none else can, they have free access Unto there father's ear, hail son of Saturn, To whom when the three lots of heaven, of sea, And hell were cast, the high Olimpus fell. Oh, oh. That with a nod canst make heavens columns bend, And th'earth's Centre tremble, whose right hand Is armed with lightning, and the left with fear. No more, are all the furies with their tortures, Their whips and lashes crept into my skin? Hath any sightless and infernal fire Laid hold upon my flesh? when did Alcides Thus shake with anguish? thus change face, thus shrink? Shall torture pale our cheek? no, Priest proceed, We will not feel the pain, thou shalt not breed, What alteration's this? a thousand pangs I see even in his visage, in his silence He doth express even hell. Thou sacred Ioue Behold us at thy Altar prostrate here To beg atonement 'tween our sins and thee, Lend us a gracious ear and eye. Priest no more, I'll rend thy Typet, hurl Ioues Altars down, Havoc his Offerings, all his Lamps extinguish, Raze his high Temples, and scale heaven itself Unless he stay my tortures. Warlike Theban, Whence comes this fury? is this madness forced, That makes Alcides thus blaspheme the Gods. Patient yourself. I will not Iason, cannot Telamon, A stiptic poison boils within my veins, Hell is within me, for my marrow fries, A vulture worse than that Promotheus feels, Fires on my entrails, and my bulk in flames. Yet be yourself, renowned Hercules, Strive with your torture, with your rage contend Seek to o'ercome this anguish. Well, I will, See Iason, see renowned Telamon I will be well, I'll feel no poison boil, Though my blood scaled me, though my hot suspires, Blast where I breathe like lightning, though my lungs seethe in my blood, I will not pale a cheek, Nor change a brow, I will not, spite of torture Anguish, and pain, I will not. What strange fury Hath late possessed him to be thus disturbed?
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)
Neuer was Hercules so much himselfe, How will this newes glad Deyaneiraes heart, Or how this sight inrage faire Omphale? All his dead honours he reuiues in this, And Greece shall once more echoe with his fame. With this her present, I put on her loue, Witnesse heauen, earth, and all you Peeres of Greece, I wed her once more in this ornament, Her loue and her remembrance sit to me More neere by thousands then this roabe can cleaue. So now before Ioues Altar let vs kneele, And make our peace with heauen, attone our selfe With beauteous Dyaneira our chast wife And cast away the loue of Omphale. Princes of Greece assist vs with your thoughts, And let your prayers with ours ascend the Speares, For mortals orions are sonnes to Ioue, And when none else can, they haue free accesse Vnto there fathers eare, haile sonne of Saturne, To whom when the three lots of heauen, of sea, And hell were cast, the high Olimpus fell. Oh, oh. That with a nod canst make heauens collomes bend, And th'earths Center tremble, whose right hand Is arm'd with lightning, and the left with feare. No more, are all the furies with their tortures, Their whips and lashes crept into my skin? Hath any sightlesse and infernall fire Laid hold vpon my flesh? when did Alcides Thus shake with anguish? thus change face, thus shrinke? Shall torture pale our cheeke? no, Priest proceed, We will not feele the paine, thou shalt not breed, What alteration's this? a thousand pangues I see euen in his visage, in his silence He doth expresse euen hell. Thou sacred Ioue Behold vs at thy Altar prostrate here To beg attonement 'tweene our sins and thee, Lend vs a gracious eare and eye. Priest no more, I'le rend thy Typet, hurle Ioues Altars downe, Hauock his Offerings, all his Lamps extinguish, Raze his high Temples, and skale heauen it selfe Vnlesse he stay my tortures. VVarlike Theban, VVhence comes this fury? is this madnes forc't, That makes Alcides thus blaspheme the Gods. Patient your selfe. I will not Iason, cannot Tellamon, A stipticke poyson boyles within my veines, Hell is within me, for my marrow fries, A vulture worse then that Promotheus feeles, Fers on my entrails, and my bulke in flames. Yet be your selfe, renowned Hercules, Striue with your torture, with yourrage contend Seek to ore-come this anguish. VVell, I will, See Iason, see renowned Tellamon I will be well, I'le feele no poison boyle, Though my bloud skal'd me, though my hot suspires, Blast where I breath like lightning, though my lungs Seeth in my bloud, I will not pale a cheeke, Nor change a brow, I will not, spight of torture Anguish, and paine, I will not. What strange fury Hath late possest him to be thus disturb'd?