Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1573 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T51 Parents and children: blessing, birthrig · 523 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T51: esau, iacob, father, son, isaac, god, love, birthright, parents, thing.
nought else but tears have trickled from mine eyes, And eke thy wretched blind and aged sire, Since first he heard what war 'tween you there was, As one that did his bitter curse repent, Or that he prayed to Ioue for your decay, With stretching string, or else with bloody knife Hath sought full oft to end his loathed life. Thou this mean while my son, hast lingered long In far and foreign coasts, and wedded eke, By whom thou mayst, (when heavens appoints it so) Strange issue have by one a stranger borne, Which grieves me sore, and much the more dear child, Because I was not present at the same, There to perform thy loving mother's due. But for I find thy noble match so meet, And worthy both for thy degree and birth, I seek to comfort thee by mine advise, That thou return this city to inhabit, Which best of all may seem to be the bower, Both for thyself and for thy noble spouse. Forget thou then thy brother's injuries, And know dear child, the harm of all mishap, That haps twixt you, must hap likewise to me: Ne can the cruel sword so slightly touch Your tender flesh, but that the self same wound Shall deeply bruise this aged breast of mine. " There is no love may be compared to that▪ The tender mother bears unto her child: " For even so much the more it doth increase, As their grief grows, or contentations cease. I know not mother, if I praise deserve, (That you to please, whom I ought not displease) Have trained myself among my trustless foes: But Nature draws (whether he will or nill) Each man to love his native country soil: And who should say, that otherwise it were, His tongue should never with his heart agree. This hath me drawn beside my bounden due, To set full light this luckless life of mine: For of my brother, what may I else hope, But trains of treason, force and falsehood both? Yet neither peril present, nor to come, Can hold me from my due obedience: I grant I can not griefless, well behold My father's palace, the holy altars, Ne lovely lodge wherein I fostered was: From whence driven out, and chased unworthily, I have too long abode in foreign coasts: And as the growing green and pleasant plant, Doth bear fresh branches one above another, Even so amid the huge heap of my woes, Doth grows one grudge more grievous than the rest, To see my dear and doleful mother, clad In mourning tire, to tire her mourning mind, Wretched alonely for my wretchedness, So likes that enemy my brother best: Soon shall you see that in this wandering world, No enmity is equal unto that That dark disdain (the cause of every evil) Doth breed full oft in consanguinity. But Ioue, he knows what dole I do endure, For you and for my father's wretched woe, And eke how deeply I desire to know What weary life my loving sisters lead, And what annoy mine absence them hath given.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Naught else but teares haue trickled from myne eyes, And eke thy wretched blynde and aged syre, Since first he hearde what warre twéene you there was, As one that did his bitter cursse repent, Or that he prayed to Ioue for your decaye, With stretching string, or else with blouddie knyfe Hath sought full ofte to ende his loathed lyfe. Thou this meane whyle my sonne, hast lingred long In farre and forreyn coastes, and wedded eke, By whome thou mayste, (when heauens appoyntes it so) Straunge issue haue by one a stranger borne, Whiche gréeues me sore, and much the more deare chylde, Bicause I was not present at the same, There to performe thy louing mothers due. But for I fynde thy noble matche so méete, And woorthie bothe for thy degrée and byrthe, I séeke to comforte thée by myne aduise, That thou returne this citie to inhabite, Whiche best of all may séeme to be the bowre, Bothe for thy selfe and for thy noble spouse. Forget thou then thy brothers iniuries, And knowe deare chylde, the harme of all missehap, That happes twixt you, must happe likewyse to mée: Ne can the cruell swoorde so slightly touche Your tender fleshe, but that the selfe same wounde Shall déepely bruse this aged breast of myne. "There is no loue may be comparde to that▪ "The tender mother beares vnto hir chylde: "For euen so muche the more it dothe encrease, "As their griefe growes, or contentations cease. I knowe not mother, if I prayse deserue, (That you to please, whome I ought not displease) Haue traynde my selfe among my trustlesse foes: But Nature drawes (whether he will or ill) Eche man to loue his natue countrey soyle: And who shoulde say, that otherwise it were, His toung should neuer with his heart agrée. This hath me drawne besyde my bounden due, To set full light this lucklesse lyfe of myne: For of my brother, what may I else hope, But traynes of treason, force and falshoode bothe? Yet neyther perill present, nor to come, Can holde me from my due obedience: I graunte I can not grieflesse, well beholde My fathers pallace, the holie aultars, Ne louely lodge wherein I fostred was: From whence driuen out, and chaste vnworthily, I haue too long aboade in forreyn coastes: And as the growing gréene and pleasant plante, Dothe beare freshe braunches one aboue an other, Euen so amdde the huge heape of my woes, Dothe grows one grudge more gréeuous than the rest, To sée my deare and dolefull mother, cladde In mournyng tyre, to tyre hir mourning mynde, Wretched alonely for my wretchednesse, So lykes that enimie my brother best: Soone shall you see that in this wandring worlde, No enmitie is equall vnto that That darke disdayne (the cause of eery euill) Dooth bréede full ofte in consangiunitie. But Ioue, he knowes what dole I doe endure, For you and for my fathers wretched woe, And eke howe déepely I desyre to knowe What wearre lyfe my louing sisters leade, And what anoye myne absence them hath giuen.