Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1573 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla typicality 0.80 · 471 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
Our noble King no sooner heard this vaunt, But forth as fast he priest his princely steps, With eager mind, as hovering falcon wonts To make her stoop, when prey appears in fight: At all assays they both were bravely armed, To either's side his sword fast being girt, In either's hand was put a sturdy lance: About Eteocles our soldiers clung, To comfort him, and put him then in mind, He fought for safety of his country soil, And that in him consisted all their hope. To Polynice the king Adrastus swore, If he escaped victor from the field, As his return he would in Greece erect A golden Image unto mighty Ioue In sign of his triumphing victory: But all this while seek you (O noble queen) To hinder this your furious sons attempt. Entreat that Gods it may not take effect, Else must you needs ere long deprived be Of both your sons, or of the one at least. ANtigone my sweet daughter, come forth Out of this house, that nought but woe retains, Come forth I say, not for to sing or dance, But to prevent (if in our powers it lie) That thy malicious brethren (swollen with ire) And I alas, their miserable mother, Be not destroyed by stroke of dreadful death. Ah sweet mother, ah my beloved mother, Alas alas what cause doth move ye now From trembling voice to send such careful cries? What painful pang? what grief doth gripe you now? O dear daughter, thy most unhappy brethren That sometimes lodged within these wretched loins Shall die this day, if Ioue prevent it not. Alas what say you? alas what do you say? Can I (alas) endure to see him dead, Whom I thus long have sought to see alive? They both have vowed (I quake alas to tell) With trenchant blade to spill each other's blood. O cruel Eteocles, ah ruthless wretch, Of this outrage thou only art the cause, Not Pollinice, whom thou with hateful spite Hast reaved first of crown and country soil, And now dost seek to reave him of his life. Daughter no more delay, let's go, let's go. Ah my sweet mother, whither shall I go? With me, dear daughter, to the greekish host, Alas how can I go? unless I go In danger of my life, or of good name? Time serves not now (my well-beloved child) To way the loss of life or honest name, But rather to prevent (if so we may) That wicked deed, which only but to think, Doth hale my heart out of my heavy breast. Come then, let's go, good mother let us go, But what shall we be able for to do, You a weak old woman for worn with years, And I God knows a silly simple maid?
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)
Our noble King no soner heard this vaunt, But forth as fast he prest his princely steppes, With eger mind, as hoouering falcon wonts To make hir stoope, when pray appeares in fight: At all assayes they both were braely armed, To eithers side his sword fast being girt, In ithers hand was put a sturdy launce: About Eteocles our souldiers cloong, To comforte him, and put him then in mind, He fought for safetie of his country soile, And that in him consisted all their hope. To Polinice the king Adrastus swore, If he escaped victor from the fielde, As his retourn he would in Greece erecte A golden Image vnto mightie Ioue In signe of his triumphing victorie: But all this while séeke you (O noble quéene) To hinder this your furious sonnes attempte. Intreat that Gods it may not take effecte, Els must you néedes ere long depriued be Of both your sonnes, or of the one at least. ANtigone my swete daughter, come forth Out of this house, that nought but woe retaines, Come forth I say, not for to sing or daunce, But to preuent (if in our powers it lie) That thy malicious brethren (swolne with ire) And I alas, their miserable mother, Be not destroide by stroke of dreadfull death. Ah swete mother, ah my beloued mother, Alas alas what cause doth moue ye now From trembling voice to send such carefull cries? What painefull pang? what griefe doth gripe you nowe? O deare daughter, thy most vnhappie brethren That sometimes lodgde within these wretched loynes Shall die this daye, if Ioue preuent it not. Alas what say you? alas what do you say? Can I (alas) endure to sée him dead, Whom I thus long haue sought to sée aliue? They both haue vowde (I quake alas to tell) With trenchant blade to spill ech others blood. O cruell Eteocles, ah ruthlesse wretch, Of this outrage thou only art the cause, Not Pollinice, whom thou with hatefull spight Hast reaued first of crowne and countrie soyle, And now doest séeke to reaue him of his life. Daughter no more delay, lets go, lets go. Ah my swéete mother, whither shall I go? With me, déere daughter, to the gréekish host, Alas how can I go? vnles I go In daunger of my life, or of good name? Time serues not now (my welbeloued childe) To way the losse of life or honest name, But rather to preuent (if so we may) That wicked déede, which only but to thinke, Doth hale my hart out of my heauie brest. Come then, lets go, good mother let vs go, But what shall we be able for to doe, You a weake old woman for worne with yeares, And I God knowes a silly simple mayde?