Four Tragedies and Octavia Book

I grew my beard out and wore my mourning toga while I read these plays. Seneca doesn't hold back, does he? He seemed to enjoy describing the gory moments more than the greeks did.

Here are some parts that I liked a lot:





"[Enter Phaedra]

THESEUS: What is this madness, woman, crazed with grief,
Why come you with a sword and loud lament Over a body which you hate?

PHAEDRA: On me, On me let the deep ocean's angry lord Let fall his wrath!
Let all the blue sea's monsters,
All that were ever brought to birth afar
In the deep lap of Tethys, all that Ocean Bears in the farthest tides of his wild waters,
Come against me. O Theseus, ever cruel!
Never a bringer of joy on your return
To those that waited for you; first a father,
And now a son, have, died for your homecoming.
For love of one wife, hatred of another,
Guilty in both, you have destroyed your house


CHORUS: You, sir, shall set in order these remains Of your son's broken body, and restore
The mingled fragments to their place.
Put here His strong right hand… and here the left,
Which used to hold the reins so skilfully.…
I recognize the shape of this left side.
Alas, how much of him is lost, and lies
Far from our weeping!


THESEUS:  Trembling hands, be firm
For this sad service; cheeks, dry up your tears!
Here is a father building, limb by limb,
A body for his son.… Here is a piece,
Misshapen, horrible, each side of it
Injured and torn.
What part of you it is I cannot tell, but it is part of you. So… put it there… not where it ought to be,
But where there is a place for it.
Was this the face that shone as brightly as a star,
The face that turned all enemies' eyes aside?
Has so much beauty come to this?
O cruelty Of Fate! O kindness, ill-bestowed, of gods!
See how a father's prayer brought back his son!… Receive these last gifts from your father's hand;
These, as each part of you is borne to burial,
Shall go into the fire.…"                                     
-----





"HECUBA: An aged lingering relic, now lament
Over the ruins of a fallen city?
Troy's doom is now old history.
Remember, Unhappy woman, what you have lately seen: The execrable murder of a king - Achilles' son (who could believe such sin?)
At the king's altar, sword in hand, his left
Clutching the king's hair - how he savagely
Forced the head back and drove the foul blade deep
Into the old man's throat; and when in triumph
He drew it out again, it came out dry.
What other man would not have stayed his rage,
What man would not have spared an aged life
Already at the door of death, or feared
The witnessing gods and the divine respect
Of royalty overthrown?
There Priam lies,
Father of many kings, and has no tomb;
Troy blazes, but there is no fire for him


CHORUS: We have loosed our hair, as for many a death before;
Tangled it falls from its knot;
We have smeared warm ash on our faces.
We have bared our shoulders and tied our fallen garments round our loins;
Our naked bosoms cry for the beating hand.
Work, Grief, with all your might!
Let our cries be heard on the Rhoetian shore
Let Echo throw them back from her mountain caves - Not only our last syllables as at other times,
But every word of our lament for Troy.
Let us be heard on every sea,
And in all the sky.
Hands, spare not your strength;
Heavily beat the breast;
What was enough before is not sufficient now.
This is for Hector.

HECUBA: Yes, Hector, for you I am striking these arms, For you these bleeding shoulders;
For you a mother's hands tear at her breast;
For you I beat my head.
Here, where I scarred my flesh at your funeral,
Let the wound open again and the blood pour down.
You were our country's tower,
Her stay against the Fates,
Shield of the Trojans when they wearied.
You were our wall,
On your shoulders for ten years our city stood;
With you she fell.
Hector's last day of life
Was the end of his country's life…


CHORUS: Is it the truth, or but an idle tale     
To give false comfort to our fears,
That the soul lives on when the body is laid to rest,
When the wife has sealed the husband's eyes,         
When the last sun has set,
When the ashes are shut into the solemn urn?
Do we in vain give up our life to death?
Has the poor mortal still more time to live?         
Or do we wholly die?         
Does nothing remain of us
After the breath has fled and the spirit of life
Gone, to be mingled with the air above us,
After the fire has been laid to the naked body?"
----





"NERO: Let him be just who has no need to fear.

SENECA: Best antidote to fear is clemency.

NERO: A king's best work is to put enemies down.

SENECA: Good fathers of the state preserve their sons.

NERO: Soft-hearted greybeards should be teaching children.

SENECA: Headstrong young men need to be sent to school.

NERO: Young men are old enough to know their minds.

SENECA: May yours be ever pleasing to the gods.

NERO: I, who make gods, would be a fool to fear them.

SENECA: The more your power, greater your fear should be.

NERO: I, thanks to Fortune, may do anything.

SENECA: Fortune is fickle; never trust her favours.

NERO: A man's a fool who does not know his strength.

SENECA: Justice, not strength, is what a good man knows.

NERO: Men spurn humility.

SENECA: They stamp on tyrants.

NERO: Steel is the emperor's guard.

SENECA: Trust is a better.

NERO: A Caesar should be feared.

SENECA: Rather be loved.

NERO: Fear is a subject's duty."