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 · 482 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.
Shall I be then the murderer of mine own? Ne blame not me, but blame the stars for this. Can heavens condemn but him alone to die? We aught believe the cause is good and just. Unjust is he condemns the innocent. A fool is he accuseth heavens of wrongs. There can no ill thing come from heavens above. Then this that heaven commands can not be ill. I not believe that thou hast talked with God. Because I tell thee that doth thee displease. Out of my sight accursed lying wretch. Go daughter go, o what fool is he That puts in ure to publish prophecies? For if he do foretell a froward fate, Though it be true, yet shall he purchase hate: And if he silence keep, or hide the truth, The heavy wrath of mighty Gods ensueth. Apollo he might well tell things to come, That had no dread the angry to offend. But high we daughter hence some other way. O my dear child, well hast thou heard with ear These weary news, or rather wicked tales That this divine of thee divined hath: Yet will thy father never be thy foe, With cruel doom thy death for to consent. You rather aught, O father, to consent Unto my death, since that my death may bring Unto this town both peace and victory. Ne can I purchase more praise worthy death Than for my country's wealth to loose my breath I cannot praise this witless will of thine. You know dear father, that this life of ours Is brittle, short, and nothing else in deed But tedious toil and pangs of endless pain: And death, whose dart to some men seems so fell, Brings quiet end to this unquiet life. Unto which end who soon doth arrive, Fi●●s soon rest of all his restless grief. And were it so, that here on earth we felt Not prick of pain, nor that our flattering days Were never dashed by froward fortunes frown, Yet being borne (as all men are) to die, Were not this worthy glory and renown, To yield the country soil where I was borne, For so long time, so short a time as mine? I can not think that this can be denied. Then if to shun this haughty high behest, Mine only cause, O father, doth you move, Be sure, you seek to take from me your son, The greatest honour that I can attain: But if your own commodity you move, So much the less you aught the same allow: For look, how much the more you have in Thebes, So much the more you aught to love the same: Here have you Haemon, he that in my stead (O my dear father) may with you remain, So that, although you be deprived of me Yet shall you not be quite deprived of heirs.
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)
Shall I be then the murtherer of mine owne? Ne blame not me, but blame the ſtarres for this. Can heauens condemne but him alone to dye? We ought beléeue the cauſe is good and iuſt. Vniuſt is he condemnes the innocent. A foole is he accuſeth heauens of wrongs. There can no ill thing come from heauēs aboue. Then this that heauen commaunds can not be ill. I not beléeue that thou haſt talkt with God. Bicauſe I tell thée that doth thée diſpleaſe. Out of my ſight accurſed lying wretch. Go daughter go, oh what foole is he That puts in vre to publiſh prophecies? "For if he do fore tell a froward fate, "Though it be true, yet ſhall he purchaſe hate: "And if he ſilence kéepe, or hide the truth, "The heauy wrath of mightie Gods enſuth. Appollo he might well tell things to come, That had no dread the angry to offende. But hye we daughter hence ſome other way. OH my deare childe, well haſt thou heard with eare Theſe wéery newes, or rather wicked tales That this deuine of thée deuined hath: Yet will thy father neuer be thy foe, With cruell doome thy death for to conſent. You rather ought, O father, to conſent Vnto my death, ſince that my death may bring Vnto this towne both peace and victorie. "Ne can I purchaſe more prayſe worthy death "Than for my countries wealth to loſe my breath I cannot prayſe this witleſſe will of thine. "You know deare father, that this life of ours "Is brittle, ſhort, and nothing elſe in déede "But tedious toyle and pangs of endleſſe payne: "And death, whoſe darte to ſome men ſéemes ſo fell, "Brings quiet ende to this vnquiet life. "Vnto which ende who ſooneſt doth arriue, "Fis ſooneſt reſt of all his reſtleſſe griefe. "And were it ſo, that here on earth we felte "No pricke of paine, nor that our flattring dayes "Were neuer daſht by froward fortunes frowne, "Yet béeing borne (as all men are) to dye, "Were not this worthy glory and renowne, "To yéelde the countrey ſoyle where I was borne, "For ſo long time, ſo ſhorte a time as mine? I can not thinke that this can be denied. Then if to ſhunne this haughtie high beheſt, Mine onely cauſe, O father, doth you moue, Be ſure, you ſéeke to take from me your ſonne, The greateſt honor that I can attayne: But if your owne commoditie you moue, So much the leſſe you ought the ſame allowe: For looke, how much the more you haue in Thebes, So much the more you ought to loue the ſame: Here haue you Hemone, he that in my ſteade (O my deare father) may with you remaine, So that, although you be depriued of me Yet ſhall you not be quite depriued of heires.