Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thou traitor to my father dear, what makest thee here in field, Repent the of thy wickedness, and to me straight do yield. Thou princocks boy & bastard slave, thinks thou me to subdue? It lieth not with in thy power, thou boy I tell the true. But if I take thy corpses, it shallbe a food the birds to feed. Strike up your drums & forward now, to wars let us proceed. Oh villain traitor now the gods, ne mortal man shall save Thy corpse from death for blood for blood my father's death doth crave Oh tyrant first couldst thou vouchsafe, my father so to slay? But now no force for thou hast wrought, at last thine one decay A lack a lack yet spare my life, Horestes I the pray. Thy life? nay traitor vile, that chief I do denay. For as thou hast deserved, so I shall thy fact requite. That once couldst seem to me & mine, for to work such despite Therefore come forth and for thy fact, receive due punishment Repent I say this former life, for this is my judgement. That for my father's death, the which we find the chief to be, The causer of thou shalt be hanged, where we thy death may see And as thou for my father's death, due punishment receive, So shall my mother in likewise, for that she gave the leave. Him for to slay, and eke to it, with good will condescend, Therefore come of and soon dispatch, that we had made an end. Ah heavy fate & chance most ill, woe worth this hap of mine, For give my fault you sacred gods, and to my words incline Your gracious ear for causer first, I was this is most plain, Of Agamemnon death, wherefore I must receive this pain. Pardon I crave, vouchsafe ye gods, the same to grant it me, Now soldier work thy will in haste, I pray the heartily. Ah heavy fate would god I had, in turmoil great been slain Sith nothing can Horestes hands, from shedding blood restrain How chance you did not then lament his father when you slew? But now when death doth you prevent, to late itis for to rue. Yet hope I that he will me grant, my life that I should have. even as much as thou vouchsafest, his father's life to save, Therefore come of we must not stay, all day to weight on thee. Lo mighty prince for whom ye sent, lo present here is she. Have mercy son & quite remit, this fault of mine I pray, Be merciful Horestes mine, and do not me denay. Consider that in me thou haddest, they human shape composed That thou shouldst slay thy mother son, let it not be disclosed, Spare to pierce her heart with sword, call eke unto thy mind, Oedipus' fate and as Nero, show not thyself unkind.
nodes 762–803 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 24 in this edition
Length
489 words · 636 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.779 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thou traytor to my father dere, what makeſt the here in feld, Repent the of thy wyckednes, and to me ſtrayght do yeld. Thou pryncoks boy & baſtard ſlaue, thinks thou me to ſubdew? It lyeth not with in thy powre, thou boye I tell the trew. But yf I take thy corpes, it ſhalbe a fode the byrdes to fede. Stryke vp your droums & forward now, to wars let vs proſede. Oh vyllayne trayghtor now ye gods, ne mortall man ſhall ſaue Thy corps frō death for blud for blud my fathers deth doth craue Oh tyraunt fyrſe couldeſt thou voutſafe, my father ſo to ſlaye? But now no forſe for thou haſt wrought, at laſt thine one decay A lacke a lacke yet ſpare my lyfe, Horeſtes I the praye. Thy lyfe? naye trayghtor vyle, that chefe I do denaye. For as thou haſt deſeruyd, ſo I ſhall thy facte requit. That once couldſt ſeme to me & mine, for to work ſuch diſpight Therfore com forth and for thy facte, receaue dew punniſhmēt Repent I ſay this former lyfe, for this is my iudgment. That for my fathers death, the which we finde the chefe to be, The cauſer of thou ſhalt be hanged, where we thy death may ſe And as thou for my fathers death, dew punniſhment receiue, So ſhall my mother in lykewiſe, for that ſhe gaue the leaue. Him for to ſlaye, and eke to it, with good will condyſende, Therfore com of and ſone dyſpatch, that we had made an end. Ah heauey fate & chaunce moſt yll, wo worth this hap of mine, For giue my faute you ſacryd godes, and to my wordes incline Your gracious eare for cauſer furſt, I was this is moſt plaine, Of Agamemnous death, wherefore I muſt receaue this paine. Pardon I craue, voutſafe ye godes, the ſame to graunt it me, Now ſodier worke thy wyll in haſt, I praye the harteley. Ah heauey fate would god I had, in tormoyle great byn ſlayne Syth nothing can Horeſtes hands, frō ſheding bloud reſtraine How chaunce you dyd not thē lament his father whē you ſlew? But now when death doth you preuent, to late ites for to rew. Yet hope I that he will me graunt, my lyfe that I ſhould haue. Euen as much as thou voutſafeſt, his fathers lyfe to ſaue, Therfore com of we muſt not ſtey, all daye to wayght on the. Lo myghtye prince for whom ye ſent, lo preaſent here is ſhe. Haue mercy ſonne & quight remitte, this faute of mine I pray, Be mercyfull Horeſtes myne, and do not me denaye. Conſider that in me thou hadeſt, they hewmayne ſhape cōpoſid That thou ſhouldſt ſlay thy mother ſon, let it not be diſcloſyd, Spare to perſe her harte with ſword, call eke vnto thy mynd, Edyppus fate and as Nero, ſhowe not thy ſelfe vnkynde.