Antonio's Revenge (2 Antonio and Mellida) · chunk 21 of 29
Marston, John · published 1602 · first performed or written 1602 (Annals) tragedy · Children of Paul's (second) T54 Antony and Cleopatra: love, death and mo typicality 0.89 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T54: antony, caesar, anthony, cleopatra, antonius, love, death, die, heart, breast.
Produce the devil,; let your Strotzo come: I can defeat his strongest argument, Which With what? With tears, with blushes, sighs, & clasped hands, With innocent upreared arms to heaven: With my unnookt simplicity. These, these Must, will, can only quit my heart of guilt. Heaven permits not taintless blood be spilled. If no remorse live in your savage breast Then thou must die Yet dying, I'll be blessed. accursed by me. Yet blessed, in that I strove To live, and die My hate. Antonyo's love. Antonio's love! O what vast ocean of repentant tears Can cleanse my breast from the polluting filth Of ulcerous sin! Supreme Efficient, Why cleavest thou not my breast with thunderbolts Of winged revenge? What means this passion? What villainy are they decocting now? Umh. In me convertite ferrum, O proceres. Nihil iste, nec ista. Lay hold on him. What strange portent is this? I will not flinch. Death, hell more grimly stare Within my heart, then in your threatening brows. Record, thou threefold guard of dreadest power, What I here speak, is forced from my lips, By the pulsive strain of conscience, I have a mount of mischief clogs my soul, As weighty as the high-nolled Apennine: Which I must straight disgorge, or breast will burst. I have defamed this Lady wrongfully, By instigation of Antonio: Whose reeling love, tossed on each fancy's surge, Began to loath before it fully joyed. Go, seize Antonio, guard him strongly in. By his ambition, being only bribed, Feed by his impious hand, I poisoned His aged father: that his thirsty hope Might quench their dropsy of aspiring drought, With full unbounded quaff. Seize me Antonio. O why permit you now such scum of filth As Strotzo is, to live, and taint the air, With his infectious breath! myself will be thy strangler, unmatched slave. Now change your ay, pluck Castilio: I change my humour? pluck Castilio. Die, with thy deaths entreats even in thy jaws. Now, now, now, now, now, my plot begins to work. Why, thus should Statesmen do, That cleave through knots of craggy policies, Use men like wedges, one strike out another; Till by degrees the tough and knurly trunk Be rived in sunder. Where's Antonio? O black accursed fate. Antonyo's drowned. Speak, on thy faith, on thy allegiance, speak. As I do love Piero, he is drowned. In an inundation of amazement. ay, is this the close of all my strains in love? O me most wretched maid. Antonio drowned? how? how? Antonio drowned? Distraught and raving, from a turret's top He threw his body in the high swollen sea, And as he headlong topsy-turvy dinged down, He still cried Mellida. My loves bright crown. He still cried Mellida? Daughter, methinks your eyes should sparkle joy, Your bosom rise on tiptoe at this news. ay me. How now? Ay me? why, art not great of thanks To gracious heaven, for the just revenge Upon the author of thy obloquies!
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)
Produce the diuel,; let your Strotzo come: I can defeat his strongest argument, VVhich With what? With teares, with blushes, sighes, & clasped hands, With innocent vpreared armes to heauen: With my vnnookt simplicitie. These, these Must, will, can only quit my heart of guilt. Heauen permits not taintlesse blood be spilt. If no remorse liue in your sauage breast Then thou must die Yet dying, Ile be blest. Accurst by me. Yet blest, in that I stroue To liue, and die My hate. Antonyo's loue. Antonio's loue! O what vast ocean of repentant teares Can cleanse my breast from the polluting filth Of vlcerous sinne! Supreame Efficient, Why cleau'st thou not my breast with thunderbolts Of wingd reuenge? What meanes this passion? What villanie are they decocting now? Vmh. In me conuertite ferrum, O proceres. Nihil iste, nec ista. Lay holde on him. What strange portent is this? I will not flinch. Death, hel more grimly stare Within my heart, then in your threatning browes. Record, thou threefolde garde of dreadest power, What I here speake, is forced from my lips, By the pulsiue straine of conscience, I haue a mount of mischiefe clogs my soule, As waightie as the high-nol'd Appenine: Which I must straight disgorge, or breast will burst. I haue defam'd this Ladie wrongfully, By instigation of Antonio: Whose reeling loue, tost on each fancies surge, Began to loath before it fully ioyed. Goe, seize Antonio, guard him strongly in. By his ambition, being only brib'd, Feed by his impious hand, I poysoned His aged father: that his thirstie hope Might quench their dropsie of aspiring drought, With full vnbounded quaffe. Seize me Antonio. O why permit you now such scum of filth As Strotzo is, to liue, and taint the ayre, With his infectious breath! My selfe will be thy strangler, vnmatcht slaue. Now change your I, pluck Castilio: I change my humour? plucke Castilio. Dye, with thy deathes intreats euen in thy iawes. Now, now, now, now, now, my plot begins to worke. Why, thus should States-men doe, That cleaue through knots of craggie pollicies, Vse men like wedges, one strike out another; Till by degrees the tough and knurly trunke Be riu'd in sunder. Where's Antonio? O black accursed fate. Antonyo's drown'd. Speake, on thy faith, on thy allegeance, speake. As I doe loue Piero, he is drownde. In an inundation of amazement. I, is this the clofe of all my straines in loue? O me most wretched maide. Antonio drownde? how? how? Antonio drownd? Distraught and rauing, from a turrets top He threwe his bodie in the high swolne sea, And as he headlong topsie turuie dingd downe, He still cri'd Mellida. My loues bright crowne. He still cry'd Mellida? Daughter, me thinks your eyes should sparkle ioy, Your bosome rise on tiptoe at this news. Aye me. How now? Ay me? why, art not great of thanks To gratious heauen, for the iust reuenge Vpon the author of thy obloquies!