Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla · 496 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
O worthy imp sprung out of worthy race, renowned Prince, whom we have looked for long, And now in happy hour art come to us, Some quiet bring to this unquiet realm. O queen, O queen, come forth and see thy son, The gentle fruit of all thy joyful seed. My faithful friends, my dear beloved maids, I come at call, and at your words I move My feebled feet with age and agony: Where is my son? O tell me where is he, For whom I sighed have so often sith, For whom I spend both nights and days in tears? Here noble mother, here, not as the king, Nor as a Citizen of stately Thebes, But as a stranger now, I thank my brother. O son, O sweet and my desired son, These eyes they see, these hands of mine thee touch, Yet scarcely can this mind believe the same, And scarcely can this bruised breast sustain The sudden joy that is enclosed therein: O gladsome glass, wherein I see myself. So grant the Gods, for our common good, You friendly may your sons both friends behold. At thy depart, O lovely child, thou left My house in tears, and me thy wretched dame, Mirror of martyrdom, waymenting still Th'unworthy exile thy brother to thee gave: Ne was there ever son or friend far off, Of his dear friends or mother so desired, As thy return, in all the town of Thebes. And of myself more than the rest to speak, I have as thou mayst see, clean cast aside My princely robes, and thus in woeful weed, Bewrapped have these lustless limbs of mine: 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 mothers 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.
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)
O woorthie impe ſprong out of worthie race, Renoumed Prince, whom wée haue lookt for long, And nowe in happie houre arte come to vs, Some quiet bring to this vnquiet realme. O quéene, O quéene, come foorth and ſée thy ſonne, The gentle frute of all thy ioyfull ſéede. My faithfull frends, my deare beloued maydes, I come at call, and at your wordes I moue My féebled féete with age and agonie: Where is my ſonne? O tell me where is he, For whome I ſighed haue ſo often ſyth, For whom I ſpende both nightes and dayes in teares? Here noble mother, here, not as the king, Nor as a Citizen of ſtately Thebes, But as a ſtraunger nowe, I thanke my brother. O ſonne, O ſwéete and my deſyred ſonne, Theſe eyes they ſée, theſe handes of myne thée touche, Yet ſcarſly can this mynde beléeue the ſame, And ſcarſly can this bruſed breaſt ſuſteyne The ſodeyne ioye that is incloſde therein: O gladſome glaſſe, wherein I ſée my ſelfe. So graunt the Gods, for our common good, You frendly may your ſonnes both frendes beholde. At thy departe, O louely chylde, thou lefte My houſe in teares, and mée thy wretched dame, Myrrour of martirdome, waymenting ſtill Th'vnworthie exile thy brother to thée gaue: Ne was there euer ſonne or friende farre off, Of his deare frendes or mother ſo deſyred, As thy returne, in all the towne of Thebes. And of my ſelfe more than the reſt to ſpeake, I haue as thou mayſte ſée, cleane caſt aſyde My princely roabes, and thus in wofull wéede, Bewrapped haue theſe luſtleſſe limmes of myne: 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 bloudie 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 greeues 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 likewiſe to mée: Ne can the cruell ſworde ſo ſlightly touche Your tender fleſhe, but that the ſelfe ſame wounde Shall déepely bruſe this aged breſt of myne.