Goffe, Thomas · published 1633 · first performed or written 1617 [c.1613-c.1618] (Annals) tragedy · at University unassigned nearest T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
Nay friends, hands off, 'tis no Physician now: See, see, old Tyndarus, dost thou know me yet? Fetch me my Crown and robes, nay, I'll ascend: Is not Atrides eldest son your King? What hast thou done, foul Viper, to eat out Thy mother's bowels, what, was this thy deed? Thy silence says 'twas thine, what Tanais Tigris or Rhenus, or what flowing sea, Should wash thee in the salt Meotis stream, Or Tethis at full tide overflow thy banks, Still would the spots of murder stick on them. Why Grandsire, I go not about to wash, By heaven, 'twas all the fruit thought to win, To think all mischief here could be no sin. See, see, thy mother, look upon her now, On her, whose eyes thou hast for ever closed, Which eyes have often wakened at thy cry, And hushed thee with a lullaby to sleep: See, see, these hands, which oft with so much care, Wrapped gently up thy unset tender limbs: See, see, this face, wont at thy signs to smile, When nature gave not leave unto thy tongue. To utter thy child's meaning. See, see these bones, these nasty rotten bones, Which had so often locked his hands in hers; Here stood the tongue which oft had called her sweet, Dear Glytemnestra, and then stopped his speech, And told his love in a more speaking sign. Here stood those eyes, which fed upon her face, And made her of thy daughter, a great Queen, And thee made him a dish for loathed worms. Suppose she did, there was but one yet dead, And with ones death again should be repaid. No, Tyndarus, had I desired but one, I should have thought I had desired none. Why, methinks, I should too have killed thee, The number is too little yet of three. Into what land, what country wilt thou fly? All earths, all lands, all countries will fly thee: The heavens will look with a more cheerful brow On Cerberus. Why, let heaven look as 'twill, it is my crown, That I have done an act shall make heaven frown: O, what earth loves so much a guilty soul, That it can bear thee? Why, Sir, this is mine, And this shall bear me. Am I not right heir? Thou heir to kingdoms! thou a subject rather, To help to make a player's Tragedy. Why, that will make me swell with greater pride, To think my name shall drop in lines of blood; From some great poets quills, who well shall paint How bravely I revenged my father's death, That is the thing I wished, and 'tis my glory, I shall be matter for so brave a story. But where's my Crown? No murderers, we'll rather join with him, This old man here to take away thy life, Than such an homicide shall frame us laws, Who hath himself razed out the laws of Nature.
seed 43: T30 · seed 44: T33 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Nay friends, hands off, 'tis no Physician now: See, see, old Tyndarus, dost thou know me yet? Fetch me my Crowne and robes, nay, I'll ascend: Is not Atrides eldest sonne your King? What hast thou done, foule Viper, to eat out Thy mothers bowells, what, was this thy deede? Thy silence saies 'twas thine, what Tanais Tygris or Rhenus, or what flowing sea, Should wash thee in the salt Meotis streame, Or Tethis at full tide o'rflow thy banks, Still would the spots of murder sticke on them. Why Grandsire, I goe not about to wash, By heauen, 'twas all the fruit thought to win, To thinke all mischiefe here could be no sinne. See, see, thy mother, looke vpon her now, On her, whose eyes thou hast for euer clos'd, Which eyes haue often wakned at thy cry, And hush'd thee with a lullaby to sleepe: See, see, these hands, which oft with so much care, Wrapt gently vp thy vnset tender limbs: See, see, this face, wont at thy signes to smile, When nature gaue not leaue vnto thy tongue. To vtter thy childs meaning. See, see these bones, these nasty rotten bones, Which had so often lock'd his hands in hers; Here stood the tongue which oft had call'd her sweet, Deare Glytemnestra, and then stopt his speech, And told his loue in a more speaking signe. Here stood those eyes, which fed vpon her face, And made her of thy daughter, a great Queene, And thee made him a dish for loathed wormes. Suppose she did, there was but one yet dead, And with ones death againe should be repaid. No, Tyndarus, had I desir'd but one, I should haue thought I had desired none. Why, me thinks, I should too haue kill'd thee, The number is too little yet of three. Into what land, what country wilt thou fly? All earths, all lands, all countries will flie thee: The heauens will look with a more cherefull brow On Cerberus. Why, let heauen looke as 'twill, it is my crowne, That I haue done an act shall make heauen frowne: O, what earth loues so much a guilty soule, That it can beare thee? Why, Sir, this is mine, And this shall beare mee. Am I not righ heire? Thou heire to kingdomes! thou a subiect rather, To helpe to make a Players Tragedie. Why, that will make me swell with greater pride, To thinke my name shall drop in lines of blood; From some great poets quils, who well shall paint How brauely I reueng'd my fathers death, That is the thing I wish'd, and 'tis my glory, I shall be matter for so braue a story. But where's my Crowne? No murderers, wee'll rather ioyne with him, This old man here to take away thy life, Then such an homicide shall frame vs lawes, Who hath himselfe rac'd out the lawes of Nature.