Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
LEt go this wicked hand; oh daughter leave me, Leave me while thou art virtuous, before Th' infection of my crimes do blast thy goodness Or draw some plague upon thee; this dire head Abhorred by heaven and earth, living in Thebes Brought forth a pestilence, which help of art Could never cure, until, by heaven's decree, Most hateful I was banished from the City. Oh Daughter leave me. Never, never Sir. While you are here, Cythaeron's craggy mount Is my abode, and far preferred before Labdacus' stately palace, or the towers Of wealthy Thebes, for which my brothers strive, What there I loved, I am possessed of here, My Father's presence; do not banish me Thither again; that place is banishment, While you are here; what but impiety, And brother's hatred shall I there behold? Thou art too good, Antigone, thy birth Would make me Ioue my crimes, but that all sense Of virtue, as of light, is dead in me. If thou wilt guide me, guide me to that high And fatal cliff, from whence unhappy Ino Pursued, leapt down into the seas, and met The danger which she fled, there let me lie Concealed for ever from the eye of heaven Ah could I kill my memory as well, That no succeeding ages might relate The name and story of sad Oedipus! Be not unjust unto yourself to think You have deserved death; the gods call that Mishap and error, which your cruel self Against yourself call crime; love would not hold His vengeful thunder, if he judged it so. The age were good, were men as penitent For true and real faults, as you for that, Which ignorance hath wrought, and was the crime Of fate itself, not yours: you could not think That Theban Laius and Iocasta were Your hapless parents; and too great a fear Of being guilty, made you what you feared. Remembering what the oracle foretold, You left a kingdom's glory, and forsook Good Polybus and loving Merope, Your then supposed parents, and betook yourself unto a willing banishment. What more than this could you have done? to keep Your goodness, you forsook a crown, which others Strive to attain by all impiety. Yet cruel fate pursued you still, and made Your virtuous mind the way to your offence; As if the Gods themselves had punished you For striving to be innocent, when they Had fore-decree'd decreed your guilt, take comfort Sir, No man offends, but where the will consents. How well canst thou, Antigone, that bear'st, A magazine of virtuous thoughts within thee, Speak words of comfort, but accursed I Am most uncapable, there's nought in me, But horror, grief, despair and misery. Show me some way of death, or let me go. I cannot leave you Sir, nor show your death, But where I mean to bear you company. I never should have had a virtuous child But to afflict me more; nature will work A miracle to make my sufferings greater. The Sun shall bring black night, the Evening star Usher the day, and seas shall meet the sky To make addition to my misery! good Sir, go take some rest; do not destroy That life, on which another life depends.
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)
LEt go this wicked hand; oh daughter leaue me, Leaue me while thou art vertuous, before Th' infection of my crimes do blaſt thy goodneſſe Or draw ſome plague vpon thee; this dire head Abhorr'd by heauen and earth, liuing in Thebes Brought forth a peſtilence, which helpe of art Could neuer cure, vntill, by heauens decree, Moſt hatefull I was baniſh'd from the City. Oh Daughter leaue me. Neuer, neuer Sir. While you are heere, Cythaeron's craggy mount Is my abode, and farre prefern'd before Labdacus ſtately palace, or the towers Of wealthy Thebes, for which my brothers ſtriue, What there I lou'd, I am poſſeſt of heere, My Father's preſence; doe not baniſh me Thither againe; that place is baniſhment, While you are heere; what but impiety, And brothers hatred ſhall I there behold? Thou art too good, Antigone, thy birth Would make me Ioue my crimes, but that all ſenſe Of vertue, as of light, is dead in me. If thou wilt guide me, guide me to that high And fatall cliffe, from whence vnhappy Ino Purſu'd, leap'd downe into the ſeas, and mett The danger which ſhee fled, there let me ly Conceal'd for euer from the eye of heauen Ah could I kill my memory as well, That no ſucceeding ages might relate The name and ſtory of ſad Oedipus! Be not vniuſt vnto your ſelfe to thinke You haue deſerued death; the gods call that Miſ-hap and errour, which your cruell ſelfe Againſt your ſelfe call crime; loue would not hold His vengefull thunder, if he iudg'd it ſo. The age were good, were men as penitent For true and reall faults, as you for that, Which ignorance hath wrought, and was the crime Of fate it ſelfe, not yours: you could not thinke That Theban Laius and Iocaſta were Your happleſſe parents; and too great a feare Of beeing guilty, made you what you fear'd. Remembring what the oracle foretold, You left a Kingdomes glory, and forſooke Good Polybus and louing Merope, Your then ſuppoſed parents, and betooke Your ſelfe vnto a willing baniſhment. What more then this could you haue done? to keepe Your goodneſſe, you forſooke a crowne, which others Striue to attaine by all impiety. Yet cruell fate purſu'd you ſtill, and made Your vertuous minde the way to your offence; As if the Gods themſelues had puniſh'd you For ſtriuing to be innocent, when they Had-fore decree'd your guilt, take comfort Sir, No man offends, but where the will conſents. How well canſt thou, Antigone, that bea'ſt, A Magazen of vertuous thoughts within thee, Speake words of comfort, but accurſed I Am moſt vncapable, there's nought in me, But horrour, greife, deſpaire and miſery. Shew me ſome way of death, or let me goe. I cannot leaue you Sir, nor ſhew your death, But where I meane to beare you company. I neuer ſhould haue had a vertuous childe But to afflict me more; nature will worke A miracle to make my ſufferings greater. The Sunne ſhall bring blacke night, the Euening ſtarre Vſher the day, and ſeas ſhall meete the sky To make addition to my miſery! good Sir, goe take ſome reſt; doe not deſtroy That life, on which another life depends.