Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T34 Thebes and royal catastrophe: siege, sla typicality 0.78 · 471 words · other edition — not in the analysis
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 sight: 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 Polynices the king Adrastus swore, If he escaped victor from the field, At 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 the Gods it may not take effect, Else must you needs ere long deprived be Of both your sons, or of the one at lest. ANtigone my sweet daughter, come forth Out of this house, that naught 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 sand 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 Polynices, 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 foworn 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 woonts To make hir ſtoope, when pray appeares in ſight: At all aſſayes they both were brauely armed, To eithers ſide his ſword faſt being girt, In eithers 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 Polynice the king Adraſtus ſwore, If he eſcaped victor from the fielde, At his returne 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 the 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 now? O deare daughter, thy moſt vnhappie brethren That ſometimes lodgde within theſe wretched loynes Shall die this day, 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 eche others blood. O cruell Eteocles, ah ruthleſſe wretch, Of this outrage thou only art the cauſe, Not Polynice, 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 well beloued 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 forworne with yeares, And I God knowes a ſilly ſimple mayde?