Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T20 Hercules: labours, suffering and virtue typicality 0.83 · 529 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.
Have here Tiphoias flesh, that doth in Aetna's Furnace groan, That shook with battery violent king Ioues assaulted throne. This is the centaurs poisoned blood which Nessus villain vile Who made a rape of Deianire intending her to file, Bequeathed her when newly wound he gasping lay for breath, While Hercles' shaft stack in his Ribs, whose lance did work his death: Behold the Funeral cinders here which up the poison dried Of Hercules who in his fire on Oeta mountain died: Lo here the fatal brand, which late the fatal sisters three Conspired at Meleager's birth, such should his destiny be, To save alive his breathing corpses, while that might whole remain, Which safe his mother Althe kept, till he his uncles twain, (That from Atlanta would have had the head of conquered Boar,) Had reft of life whose spiteful death Althaea took so sore, That both she showed her ferventness in sisters godly love, When to revenge her brother's death mere nature did her move, But yet as mother most unkind, of nature most unmild, To hasten the untimely grave of her beloved child, While Meleager's fatal brand she wasted in the flame, Whose swelting guts and bowels moult consumed as the same, These plumes the Harpies ravening fowls for haste did leave behind, In hidden hole whose close access no mortal wight can find. When fast from Zethes chasing them with speedy flight they fled. Put unto these the feathers which the Stymphal bird did shed, Whom dusking Phoebus dimmed light sir Hercules did sting, And galied with the shaft, that he in Hydra's hide did fling. You Aares have yield a clattering noise I know, I know of old, How unto me my Oracles are wonted to be told, That when the trembling flower doth shake then hath my Gods great, Vouchsafe to grant me my request as I did her entreat, I see Diana's wagon swife, not that whereon she glides, When all the night in darkened Sky with Face full ope she rides: With countenance bright and blandishing but when with heavy cheer, With dusky shimmering wanny globe, her lamp doth pale appear. Or when she trots about the heavens with horsecheade rained straight, When Thessayle Witches with the threats of charming her do bait. So with thy dampish dulled blaze, thy cloudy fainting light, Send out, amid the lowering sky, the heart of people smite With agonies of sudden dread, in strange and fearful wise, Compel the precious brazen pans with jarring noise to rise Through Corinth country everywhere, to shield them from this harm, lest headlong drawn thou be from heaven to earth by force of charm. An holy solemn sacrifice to worship thee we make, embrewed with a bloody turf the kindled Torch doth take Thy sacred burning night fire at the dampish mory grave. Sore charged with thy troubled ghost my head I shaken have, And ducking down my Neck allow with shrieking loud have shrigh And groveling flat on floor in trance have lain in dedman's plight. My ruffled Locks about mine ears down dangling have been bound. Tucked up about my temples twain with gladsome garland crowned:
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1149–1198 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 24 of 30 in this edition
Length
529 words · 721 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T20 — Hercules: labours, suffering and virtuecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.828 (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)
Haue here Tiphoias fleſhe, that doth in Aetnas Foruace grone, That ſhoke with baitery violent king Ioues aſſaulted trone. This is the Centaures poyſoned bloud which Neſſus villayne vyle Who made a rape of Dianire entending her to fyle, Bequethed her when newly wounde he gaſping lay for breath, While Hercles ſhaft ſtack in his Ribs, whoſe laūce did worke his death: Beholde the Funerall cinders heere which vp the poyſon dryed Of Hercules who in his fyre on Oeta mountayne dyed: Loe heere the fatall brand, which late the fatall ſiſters three Conſpyred at Meleagers byrth, ſuch ſhould his deſny bee, To ſaue alyue his brethyng corpes, while that might whole remayne, Which ſaufe his mother Althe kept, till he his vncles twyne, (That from Atlanta would haue had the head of coquered Bore,) Had reft of lye whoſe ſpightfull death Althea tooke ſo ſore, That both ſhe ſhewed her feruentneſſe in ſyſters godly loue, When to reuenge her brothers death meere nature did her moue, But yet as mother moſt vnkynde, of nature moſt vnmylde, To haſten the vntymely graue of her beloued chylde, Whyle Meleagers fatall brande ſhe waſted in the flame, Whoſe ſwelting guts and bowels moult conſumed as the ſame, Theſe plumes the Harpyes rauening fowles for haſt did leaue behinde, In hidden hole whoſe cloaſe acceſſe no mortall wight can fynd. When faſt from Zethes chaſing them with ſpeedy flight they fled. Put vno theſe the fethers which the Symphal byrde did ſhed, Whom duſkyng Phoebus dymned lyght ſyr Hercules did ſtynge, And galied with the ſhafte, that he in Hydraes hyde did flynge. You Aares haue yeelde a clattring noyſe I knowe, I knowe of olde, How vnto mee my Oracles are wonted to bee toulde, That when ye tremlng flowre doth ſhake then hath my Goddes great, Vouchſafe to graunt mee my requeſt as I did her intreate, I ſee Dianas waggon ſwife, not that whereon ſhee glydes, When all the night in darkned Sky with Face full ope ſhee rydes: With countnaunce bright and blandiſhing but when with heauy cheare, With duſky ſhimmering wanny globe, her lampe doth pale appeare. Or when ſhee trots bout the heauens wyth horſecheade rayned ſtrayte, When Theſſayle Witches with threats of charming her doe bayte. So with thy dumpiſh dulled blaſe, thy cloudy faynting lght, Sende out, amid the lowring ſky, the heart of people ſmyght Wyth agonies of ſuddeyne dread, in ſtraung and fearfull wyſe, Compell the pretious braſen pannes with iarrig noyſe to ryſe Through Corinth countrey uery where, to ſhielde the frō tie harme, Leaſt headlong rawne thou be from heauen to earth by force of charme. An holy ſolempne ſacryfice to worſhip thee wee make, Imbrewed with a bloudy turphe the kindled Torche doth take Thy ſacred burning night fyre at the dampiſhe mory graue. Sore charged with thy troubled ghoſt my head I ſhaken haue, And ducking downe my Necke alowe wt ſhryking lowde haue ſhrigh And groueling flat on floore in traunce haue lyen in deadmans plight. My ruffled Lockes about myne eares downe dagling haue ben bownd. Tuckt vp about my temples twayne with gladſome garland crownde▪