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 · 514 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
O Iocasta, miserable mother, What hapless end thy life alas hath hent? Percase the heavens purveyed had the same, Moved thereto by the wicked wedlock Of Oedipus thy son, yet might thy 'scuse Be justly made, that knew not of the crime. But tell me messenger, oh tell me yet The death of these two brethren, driven thereto, Not thus all only by their dreary fate, But by the banning and the bitter curse Of their cruel sire, borne for our annoy, And here on earth the only source of evil. Then know my Lord, the battle that begun Under the walls, was brought to lucky end, Eteocles had made his foemen flee Within their trenches, to their foul reproach: But herewithal the brethren straightway Each other challenge forth into the field, By combat so to stint their cruel strife, Who armed thus amid the field appeared. First Polynices' turning toward Gréece His lovely looks, 'gan Iuno thus beseech: O heavenly queen, thou seest, that since the day I first did wed Adrastus' daughter dear, And stayed in Gréece, thy servant have I been: Then (be it not for mine unworthiness) Grant me this grace, the victory to win, Grant me, that I with high triumphant hand, May bathe this blade within my brother's breast: I know I crave unworthy victory, Unworthy triumphs, and unworthy spoils, Lo he the cause, my cruel enemy. The people wept to hear the woeful words Of Pollinice, foreseeing eke the end Of this outrage and cruel combat ta'en, Each man 'gan look upon his drooping mate, With minds amazed, and trembling hearts for dread, Whom pity pierced for these youthful knights. Eteocles with eyes up cast to heaven. Thus said: O mighty love his daughter grant to me, That this right hand with this sharp armed lance Passing amid my brother's cankered breast, It may eke pierce that coward heart of his, And so him slay that thus unworthily Disturbs the quiet of our common weal. So said Eteocles, and trumpets blown, To send the summons of their bloody fight, That one the other fiercely did encounter, Like Lions two yfraught with boiling wrath, Both couched their lances full against the face, But heaven it nolde that there they should them taint: Upon the battered shields the mighty spears Are both ybroke, and in a thousand shivers Amid the air flown up into the heavens: Behold again, with naked sword in hand, Each one the other furiously assaults. Here they of Thebes, there stood the Greeks in doubt, Of whom doth each man feel more chilling dread, lest any of the twain should lose his life, Than any of the twain did feel in fight. Their angry looks, their deadly daunting blows, Might witness well, that in their hearts remained As cankered hate, disdain, and furious mood, As ever bred in bear or tigers breast. The first that happed to hurt was Polynice, Who smote the right thigh of Eteocles: But as we deem, the blow was nothing deep, Then cried the Greeks, and leapt with lightened hearts,
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)
O Iocasta, miserable mother, What haplesse ende thy life alas hath het? Percase the heauens purueyed had the same, Moued therto by the wicked wedlocke Of Oedipus thy sonne, yet might thy scuse Be iustly made, that knewe not of the crime. But tell me messanger, oh tel me yet The death of these two brethren, driuen therto, Not thus all onely by their drearie fate, But by the banning and the bitter cursse Of their cruell sire, borne for our annoy, And here on earth the onely soursse of euil. Then know my Lorde, the battell that begonne Under the walles, was brought to luckie ende, Eteocles had made his foemen flée Within their trenches, to their foule reproche: But herewithall the bretheren streightway Eche other chalenge foorth into the fielde, By combate so to stinte their cruell strife, Who armed thus amid the field appeard. First Pollinices turning towarde Gréece His louely lookes, gan Iuno thus beséeche: O heauenly quéene, thou séest, that since the day I first did wedde Adrastus daughter deare, And stayde in Gréece, thy seruaunt haue I bene: Then (be it not for mine vnworthinesse) Graunt me this grace, the victorie to winne, Graunt me, that I with high triumphant hande, May bathe this blade within my brothers brest: I know I craue vnworthy victorie, Unworthy triumphes, and vnworthy spoyles, Lo he the cause, my cruell enimie. The people wept to heare the wofull wordes Of Pollinice, foreséeing eke the ende Of this outrage and cruell combate tane, Eche man gan looke vpon his drouping mate, With mindes amazde, and trembling hearts for dread, Whom pitie perced for these youthfull knightes. Eteocles with eyes vp cast to heauen. Thus sayde: O mightie loue his daughter graunt to me, That this right hande with this sharpe armed launce Passing amid my brothers cankred brest, It may eke pierce that cowarde harte of his, And so him slea that thus vnworthily Disturbes the quiet of our common weale. So sayde Eteocles, and trumpets blowne, To sende the summens of their bloudy fighte, That one the other fiercely did encounter, Like Lions two yfraught with boyling wrath, Bothe coucht their launces full agaynst the face, But heauen it nolde that there they should them teinte: Upon the battred shields the mightie speares Are bothe ybroke, and in a thousande shiuers Amid the ayre flowne vp into the heauens: Beholde agayne, with naked sworde in hande, Eche one the other furiously assaultes. Here they of Thebes, there stoode the Greekes in doubt, Of whom doth eche man féele more chilling dread, Least any of the twayne should lose his life, Than any of the twayne did féele in fight. Their angry lookes, their deadly daunting blowes, Might witnesse well, that in their heartes remaynde As cankred hate, disdayne, and furious moode, As euer bred in beare or tygers brest. The first that hapt to hurt was Polinice, Who smote the righte thighe of Eteocles: But as we déeme, the blow was nothing déepe, Then cryed the Gréekes, and lepte with lightned harts,