Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1573 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea typicality 0.78 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
The Mariner amid the swelling seas Who seeth his bark with many a billow beaten, Now here, now there, as wind and waves best please, When thundering Ioue with tempest list to threaten, And dreads in deepest gulf for to be eaten, Yet learns a mean by mere necessity To save himself in such extremity: For when he seeth no man hath wit nor power To fly from fate when fortune list to lower, His only hope on mighty Ioue doth cast, Whereby he wins the wished haven at last. How fond is that man in his fantasy, Who thinks that Ioue the maker of us all, And he that tempers all in heaven on high, The sun, the moan, the stars celestial, So that no leaf without his leave can fall, Hath not in him omnipotence also To guide and govern all things here below? O blinded eyes, O wretched mortal wights, O subject slaves to every evil that lights, To scape such woe, such pain, such shame and scorn, Happy were he that never had been borne. Well might duke Creon driven by destiny, If true it be that old Tiresias saith, Redeem our city from this misery, By his consent unto Meneceus' death, Who of himself would feign have lost his breath, " But every man is loath for to fulfil The heavenly hest that pleaseth not his will: " That public weal must needs to ruin go Where private profit is preferred so. Yet mighty God, thy only aid we crave, This town from siege, and us from sorrow save. O Sage and sober dames, O shamefast maids, O faithful servants of our aged Queen, Come lead her forth, sith unto her I bring Such secret news as are of great import. Come forth, O Queen, surcease thy woeful plaint, And to my words vouchsafe a willing ear. My servant dear, dost thou yet bring me news Of more mishap? ah weary wretch, alas, How doth Eteocles? whom heretofore In his increasing years, I wonted ay From dangerous hap with favour to defend, Doth he yet live? or hath untimely death In cruel fight bereft his flowering life? He lives (O Queen) hereof have ye no doubt, From such suspect myself will quite you soon. The venturous Greeks have haply ta'en the town. The Gods forbid. Our soldiers then, perchance, Dispersed been and yelden to the sword. Not so, they were at first in danger sure, But in the end obtained victory. Alas, what then becomes of Polynice? Oh canst thou tell? is he dead or alive? You have (O Queen) yet both your sons alive. Oh, how my heart is eased of this pain. Well, then proceed, and briefly let me hear, How ye repulsed your proud presuming foes, That thereby yet at least I may assuage The swelling sorrows in my doleful breast, In that the town is hitherto preserved: And for the rest, I trust that mighty Ioue Will yield us aid.
seed 43: T47 · seed 44: T45 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Mariner amidde the swelling seas Who séeth his barke with many a billowe beaten, Now here, now there, as wind and waues best please, When thundring Ioue with tempest list to threaten, And dreades in dpest gulfe for to be eaten, Yet learnes a meane by mere necessitie To saue him selfe in such extremitie: For when he seeth no man hath witte nor powre To flie from fate when fortune list to lowre, His only hope on mightie Ioue doth caste, Whereby he winnes the wished hauen at last. How fond is that man in his fantasie, Who thinks that Ioue the maker of vs al, And he that tempers all in heauen on high, The sunne, the mone, the starres celestiall, So that no leafe without his leaue can fall, Hath not in him omnipotence also To guide and gouerne all things here below? O blinded eies, O wretched mortall wights, O subiect slues to euery euill that lights, To scape such woe, such paine, such shame and scorne, Happie were he that neuer had bin borne. Well might duke Creon driuen by destinie, If tr it be that olde Tyresias saith, Redeme our citie from this miserie, By his consent vnto Meneceus death, Who of him selfe wold faine haue lost his breth, "But euery man is loth for to fulfill "The heauenly hest that pleaseth not his will: "That publique weale must néedes to ruine go "Where priuate profite is preferred so. Yet mightie God, thy only aide we craue, This towne from siege, and vs from sorrowe saue. O Sage and sober dames, O shamefast maides, O faithfull seruants of our aged Quéene, Come leade hir forth, sith vnto hir I bring Such secrete newes as are of great importe. Come forthe, O Quéene, furceasse thy wofull plainte, And to my words vouchsafe a willing eare. My seruant deare, doest thou yet bring me newes Of more mishappe? ah werie wretch, alas, How doth Eteocles? whome heretofore In his encreasing yeares, I wonted ay From daungerous happe with fauoure to defend, Doth he yet liue? or hath vntimely death In cruell fight berefte his flowring life? He liues (O Quéene) hereof haue ye no doubte, From such suspecte my selfe will quite you soone. The vētrous Gréekes haue haply ta the toune▪ The Gods forbid. Our souldiers then, perchance, Dispersed bee and yelden to the sword. Not so, they were at first in daunger sure, But in the end obteined victorie. Alas, what then becōmes of Polinice? Oh canst thou tell? is he dead or aliue? You haue (O Quéene) yet both your sonnes aliue. Oh, how my harte is eased of this paine. Well, then procéede, and briefly let me heare, How ye replst your proud presuming foes, That thereby yet at least I may assuage The swelling sorrowes in my dolefull brest, In that the towne is hitherto preserude: And for the rest, I trust that mightie Ioue Will yelde vs ayde.