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 0.82 · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
So hast thou reason Oedipus, to say, And for my part I would thee counsel eke, Still to maintain the high and haughty mind, That hath bene even in thy noble heart: For this be sure, if thou wouldst kiss these knees, And practise eke by prayer to prevail, No pity could persuade me to consent That thou remain one only hour in Thebes. And now, prepare you worthy Citizens, The funerals that duly do pertain Unto the Queen, and to Eteocles, And eke for them provide their stately tombs. But Pollynice, as common enemy Unto his country, carry forth his corpse Out of the walls, ne none so hardy be On pain of death his body to engrave, But in the fields let him unburied lie, Without his honour, and without complaint, An open pray for savage beasts to spoil. And thou Antigone, dry up thy tears, Pluck up thy sprites, and cheer thy harmless heart. To marriage: for ere these two days pass, Thou shalt espouse Haemon mine only heir. Father, I see us wrapped in endless woe, And now much more do I your state lament, Than these that now be dead, not that I think Their great mishaps too little to bewail, But this, that you, you only do surpass All wretched wights that in this world remain. But you my Lord, why banish you with wrong My father thus out of his own perforce? And why will you deny these guiltless bones Of Polynice, their grave in country soil? So would not I, so would Eteocles. He cruel was, you fond to hold his hests. Is then a fault to do a king's command? When his command is cruel and unjust. Is it unjust that he unburied be? He not deserved so cruel punishment. He was his countries cruel enemy. Or else was he that held him from his right. Bare he not arms against his native land? Offendeth he that seeks to win his own? Perforce to thee he shall unburied be. Perforce to thee these hands shall bury him. And with him eke then will I bury thee. So grant the gods, I get none other grave, Then with my Polynices dear to rest. Go sirs, lay hold on her, and take her in. I will not leave this corpse unburied. Canst thou undo the thing that is decreed? A wicked foul decree to wrong the dead. The ground ne shall ne ought to cover him. Creon, yet I beseech thee for the love. Away I say, thy prayers not prevail. That thou didst bear Iocasta in her life, Thou dost but waste thy words amid the wind. Yet grant me leave to wash his wounded corpse. It can not be that I should grant thee so. O my dear Polynice, this tyrant yet With all his wrongful force can not fordo, But I will kiss these cold pale lips of thine, And wash thy wounds with my waymenting tears.
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)
So hast thou reason Oedipus, to say, And for my parte I would thee counsell eke, Still to maynteine the high and hawtie minde, That hath dene euen in thy noble heart: For this be sure, if thou wouldst kise these knées, And practise eke by prayer to prayle, No pitie coulde persuade me to consent That thou remayne one onely houre in Thbes. And nowe, prepare you worthie Citizens, The funeralls that duely doe pertayne Unto the Quéene, and to Eteocles, And eke for them prouide their stately tombes. But Pollynice, as common enimie Unto his countrey, carrie foorth his corps Out of the walles, ne none so hardie be On paine of death his bodie to engraue, But in the fieldes let him vnburied lye, Without his honour, and without complaynte, An open praie for sauage beastes to spoyle. And thou Antigone, drie vp thy teares, Plucke vp thy sprites, and chéere thy harmelesse hearte. To mariage: for ere these two dayes passe, Thou shalt espouse Hemone myne onely heire. Father, I sée vs wrapt in endlesse woe, And nowe muche more doe I your state lamente, Than these that nowe be dead, not that I thinke Theyr greate missehappes too little to bewayle, But this, that you, you onely doe surpasse All wretched wightes that in this worlde remayne. But you my Lorde, why banishe you with wrong My father thus out of his owne perforce? And why will you denye these guiltlesse boes Of Polinice, theyr graue in countrey soyle? So would not I, so woulde Eteocles. He cruel was, you fonde to hold his hestes. Is then a fault to doe a kings cōmaund? When his cōmaunde is cruel and vniust. Is it vniust that he vnburied be? He not deseru'd so cruell punishment. He was his countreys cruell enimie. Or else was he that helde him from his right. Bare he not armes against his natiue land? Offendeth he that sekes to winne his owne? Perforce to thée he shall vnburied be. Perforce to thée these hands shall burie him. And with him eke then will I burie thée. So graunt the gods, I get none other graue, Then with my Polinices deare to rest. Go sirs, lay holde on hir, and take hir in. I will not leaue this corps vnburied. Canst thou vndoe the thing that is decréed? A wicked foule decrée to wrong the dead. The ground ne shall ne ought to couer him. Creon, yet I beseche thée for the loue. Away I say, thy prayers not preuaile. That thou didst beare Iocasta in hir life, Thou dost but waste thy words amid the wind. Yet graunt me leaue to washe his wounded corps▪ It can not be that I should graunt thée so. O my deare Polinice, this tirant yet With all his wrongfull force can not fordoe, But I will kisse these colde pale lippes of thine, And washe thy wounds with my waymenting teares.