The Brazen Age (The Age of Brass) · chunk 38 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 0.81 · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T20: hercules, hercles, ioue, deianeira, alcides, hand, lo, death, skies, hell.
Why this is well, once more repair Ioues Altar. Kindle these holy Tapers and proceed. To pluck the Thunderer from his Crystal throne And throw the Gallaxia, by the locks, And amber tresses, drag the Queen of heaven. Alcides. Princes, Iason, Telamon, Help me to tear of this infernal shirt, Which raws me where it cleaves, unskin my brawns, And like one naked rolled in a Tun of spikes Of thousands, make one universal wound, And such is mine: oh Deianeira false, Treacherous, unkind, disloyal; pluck, tear, rend Though you my bones leave naked, and my flesh Frying with poison you cast hence to dogs. Dread Neptune, let me plunge me in thy seas, To cool my body, that is all on flame. Or with thy trisulc thunder strike me Ioue, And so let fire quench fire, unhand me Lords, Let me spurn mountains down, and tear up rocks Rend by the roots huge Oaks, till I have digged A way to hell, or found a scale to heaven. Something I must, my torments are so great, To quench this flame and qualify this heat. Let us not leave him Princes lest this outrage Make him lie violent hands upon himself. If Deianeira's heart, were with her hand, She is her sex's scandal, and her shame Even whilst Time lives, shall every tongue proclaim. I'll follow to, and with what Art I can, Strive this his rage and torture to allay. What's in this shirt unknown to me that brought it? Or what hath jealous Deianeira done? To employ me, an unwilling messenger, In her Lords death: well, whosoe'er it prove My innocence I know, I'll, if I may Look to my life, and keep out of his way. Lychas, Lychas, where's he that brought this poisoned shirt, That I may tear the villain limb from limb. And flake his body small as Winter's snow, His shattered flesh shall play like parched leaves, And dance in th'air, tossed by the summer winds. Defend me heaven. Oh that with stamping thus, I could myself beneath the Centre sink, And tomb my tortured body beneath hell. Had I heavens massy columns in my gripes, Then with one sway I would o'erturn yond frame, And make the marble Elemental sky My tomb-stone to enter dead Hercules. Oh father Ioue thou layst upon thy son Torments above supporture, Lichas, oh! I'll chase the villain o'er Oeta's rocks, Till I have naked those hills, and left no shade To hide the Traitor. Which way shall I fly To scape his fury? if I stay I die. Stay, stay, what's he that creeps into yond cave? Is not that Lycas Deianeira's squire, That brought this poisoned shirt to Hercules? I thank thee Ioue, yet this is some allayment And moderation to the pangs I feel, Nay, you shall out fir Lychas by the heels.
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)
Why this is well, once more repaire Ioues Altar. Kindle these holy Tapers and proceed. To plucke the Thunderer from his Christall thron And throw the Gallaxia, by the locks, And amber tresses, drag the Queene of heauen. Alcides. Princes, Iason, Tellamon, Helpe me to teare of this infernall shirt, Which rawes me where it cleaues, vnskin my brawnes, And like one nak't rowl'd in a Tun of spikes Of thousands, make one vniuersall wound, And such is mine: oh Deyaneira false, Treacherous, vnkind, disloyall; plucke, teare, rend Though you my bones leaue naked, and my flesh Frying with poyson you cast hence to dogs. Dread Neptune, let me plundge me in thy seas, To coole my body, that is all on flame. Or with thy tri-sulke thunder strike me Ioue, And so let fire quench fire, vnhand me Lords, Let me spurne mountaines downe, and teare vp rocke Rend by the roots huge Okes, till I haue dig'd Away to hell, or found a skale to heauen. Something I must, my torments are so great, To quench this flame and qualify this heate. Let vs not leaue him Princes least this out-rage Make him lay violent hands vpon him selfe. If Deyaneiraes heart, were with her hand, She is her sexes scandall, and her shame Euen whilst Time liues, shall euery tongue proclaime. I'le follow to, and with what Art I can, Striue this his rage and torture to allay. What's in this shirt vnknowne to me that brought it? Or what hath iealous Deyaneira done? To employ me, an vnwilling messenger, In her Lords death: well, whosoe're it proue My innocence I know, I'le, if I may Looke to my life, and keepe out of his way. Lychas, Lychas, where's he that brought this poyson'd shirt, That I may teare the villaine lim from lim. And flake his body small as Winters snow, His shattered flesh shall play like parched leaues, And dance in th'aire, tost by the sommer winds. Defend me heauen. Oh that with stamping thus, I could my selfe beneath the Center sinke, And tombe my tortured body beneath hell. Had I heauens massy columnes in my gripes, Then with one sway I would or'e-turne yon frame, And make the marble Elementall sky My Tombe-stone to enterre dead Hercules. Oh father Ioue thou laist vpon thy sonne Torments aboue supporture, Lichas, oh! I'le chase the villaine o're Oetaes rockes, Till I haue nak't those hils, and left no shade To hide the Traytor. Which way shall I flye To scape his fury? if I stay I dye. Stay, stay, what's he that creeps into yon caue? Is not that Lycas Dyaneiraes squire, That brought this poysoned shirt to Hercules? I thanke thee Ioue, yet this is some allayment And moderation to the pangues I feele, Nay, you shall out fir Lychas by the heeles.