Herbert, Mary Sidney / Garnier, RobertSidney Herbert, Mary · published 1595 · first performed or written 1590 (Annals) tragedy T54 Antony and Cleopatra: love, death and mo typicality 0.76 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T54: antony, caesar, anthony, cleopatra, antonius, love, death, die, heart, breast.
O Erisychthon thanks (quoth Antony) for this Most noble act, who powerless me to kill, On thee hast done, what I on me should do. Of speaking thus he scarce had made an end, And taken up the bloody sword from ground, But he his body pierced; and of red blood A gushing fountain all the chamber filled. He staggered at the blow, his face grew pale, And on a couch all feeble down he fell, Sounding with anguish: deadly cold him took, As if his soul had then his lodging left But he revived, and marking all our eyes, Bathed in tears, and how our breasts we beat For pity, anguish, and for bitter grief, To see him plunged in extreme wretchedness: He prayed us all to haste his lingering death: But no man willing, each himself withdrew. Then fell he new to cry and vex himself, Until a man from Cleopatra came, Who said from her he had commandment To bring him to her to the monument. The poor soul at these words even rapt with joy Knowing she lived, prayed us him to convey Unto his Lady. Then upon our arms We bore him to the Tomb, but entered not. For she who feared captive to be made, And that she should to Rome in triumph go, Kept close the gate but from a window high Cast down a cord, wherein he was impact. Then by her women's help the corpse she raised, And by strong arms into her window drew. So pitiful a sight was never seen. Little and little Antony was pulled, Now breathing death: his beard was all unkempt, His face and breast all bathed in his blood. So hideous yet, and dying as he was, His eyes half-closed upon the Queen he cast: Held up his hands, and holp himself to raise, But still with weakness back his body fell. The miserable lady with moist eyes, With hair which careless on her forehead hung, With breast which blows had bloodily benumbed, With stooping head, and body downward bent, Enlaced her in the cord, and with all force This life-dead man courageously upraised, The blood with pain into her face did flow, Her sinews stiff, herself did breathless grow. The people which beneath in flocks beheld, Assisted her with gesture, speech, desire: Cried and encouraged her, and in their souls Did sweat, and labour, no whit less than she. Who never tired in labour, held so long Helped by her women, and her constant heart, That Antony was drawn into the tomb, And there (I think) of dead augments the sum. The city all to tears and sighs is turned, To plaints and outcries horrible to hear: Men, women, children, hoary-headed age Do all pell-mell in house and street lament, Scratching their faces, tearing of their hair, Wringing their hands, and martyring their breasts Extreme their dole: and greater misery
seed 43: T51 · seed 44: T48 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O Eros thankes (quoth Antony) for this Most noble acte, who pow'rles me to kill, On thee hast done, what I on mee should do. Of speaking thus he scarsce had made an end, And taken vp the bloudy sword from ground, But he his bodie piers'd; and of red bloud A gushing fountaine all the chamber fill'd. He staggred at the blow, his face grew pale, And on a couche all feeble downe he fell, Sounding with anguish: deadly cold him tooke, As if his soule had then his lodging left But he reuiu'd, and marking all our eies, Bathed in teares, and how our breasts we beate For pittie, anguish, and for bitter griefe, To see him plong'd in extreame wretchednes: He prai'd vs all to haste his lingring death: But no man willing, each himselfe withdrew. Then fell he new to cry and vexe himselfe, Vntill a man from Cleopatra came, Who said from hir he had commaundement To bring him to hir to the monument. The poore soule at these words euen rapt with ioy Knowing she liu'd, prai'd vs him to conuey Vnto his Lady. Then vpon our armes We bare him to the Tombe, but entred not. For she who feared captiue to be made, And that she should to Rome in triumph goe, Kept close the gate but from a window high Cast downe a corde, wherein he was impackt. Then by hir womens help the corps she rais'd, And by strong armes into hir window drew. So pittifull a sight was neuer seene. Little and little Antony was pull'd, Now breathing death: his beard was all vnkempt, His face and brest al bathed in his bloud. So hideous yet, and dieng as he was, His eies half-clos'd vppon the Queene he cast: Held vp his hands, and holpe himselfe to raise, But still with weaknes back his bodie fell. The miserable ladie with moist eies, With haire which careles on hir forhead hong, With brest which blowes had bloudily benumb'd, With stooping head, and body down-ward bent, Enlast hir in the corde, and with all force This life-dead man couragiously vprais'd, The bloud with paine into hir face did flowe, Hir sinewes stiff, her selfe did breathles grow. The people which beneath in flocks beheld, Assisted her with gesture, speach, desire: Cride and incourag'd her, and in thier soules Did sweate, and labor, no whit lesse then she. Who neuer tir'd in labor, held so long Helpt by her women, and hir constant heart, That Antony was drawne into the tombe, And there (I thinke) of dead augments the summe. The cittie all to teares and sighes is turn'd, To plaints and outcries horrible to heare: Men, women, children, hoary-headed age Do all pell mell in house and streete lament, Scratching their faces, tearing of their haire, Wringing their hands, and martyring their brests Extreame their dole: and greater misery