Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
May Thebes prove gentle when Argia enters. Now I am free to act what I design. Shall I expect the doubtful grant of Creon, Or Theseus lingering aid, whilst thou, dear Lord, Art food for vultures? whilst thy funeral Decreases daily, and thy wandering Ghost Perchance complaining to th'infernal gods Callest me unkind, and cruel? I will lose No longer time, no danger shall withstand That act, which love, and my chaste fires command. Move me no more in that, can Aemon find No match 'mongst all the noble Theban Maids, Nor foreign princess, but Antigone? To mix the fortune of our house with that Incestuous, dire, and fatal family? Move me no more I say. but good, my Lord, Weigh not alone her hapless parentage, (Though that were royal, and allied to you In near degrees) but her admired virtue, In which the general voice of people speaks her As much excelling, as the worst of all Her wretched race were infamous for vice. What real virtue ever could proceed From such an impious stock? or being borne, Could ever prosper? Do not tax so far The justice of the gods, that they should punish In good Antigone her kindred's crimes: They have already with dire punishments Paid for their proper guilt; and her rare virtues By the same law may challenge, as a due, The greatest blessings that the gods can grant. No act of hers can recompense the guilt Her birth alone has brought into the world, And now we'll purge the city, Aephytus, Go find out Oedipus, and in our name Confine him to Cithaeron; speak it death, If ere he show within the walls of Thebes His ominous head. That banishment, my liege, Is come too late, he is confined already Unto his latest home, grief for his sons Has broke at last his great and stubborn heart. The queen Iocasta hearing that sad news Beating her breast, tearing her hoary hair, And uttering sad complaints against the gods, And fates severe decrees, at last espied That fatal sword by which old Laius died On which she fell, and ended her sad life. We have no tears for her, although our sister; Let all the plagues, that Thebes so long has felt, Take end with them. None but Antigone Is now remaining of that family. Go thou, Ianthus, in our name command her To keep her house in Thebes, nor stir from thence, Until our farther pleasure shall be known. Be good to her, my Lord, for Aemons sake. whate'er mishap befall Antigone he'll deeply share in, for I fear his love Is too too constant ere to be removed. Rather than lose him, grant his lawful suit. I'll rather grant him death then marriage there. Remember he's our son, our only son, And virtuous too, of whom the Kingdom boasts. Blast not their hopes in him, the fate of love Is irresistible.
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)
May Thebes prooue gentle when Argia enters. Now I am free to act what I deſigne. Shall I expect the doubtfull grant of Creon, Or Theſeus lingringe aide, whileſt thou, deare Lord, Art foode for Vulturs? whilſt thy funerall Decreaſes daily, and thy wandering Ghoſt Perchance complayning to th'infernall gods Cal'ſt me vnkinde, and cruell? I will loſe No longer time, no danger ſhall withſtand That act, which loue, and my chaſt fires command. Mooue me no more in that, can Aemon finde No match'mongſt all the noble Theban Maides, Nor forreigne Princes, but Antigone? To mixe the fortune of our houſe with that Inceſtuous, dire, and fatall family? Mooue me no more I ſay. but good, my Lord, Weigh not alone her hapleſſe parentage, (Though that were royall, and ally'd to you In neere degrees) but her admired vertue, In which the generall voyce of people ſpeakes her As much excelling, as the worſt of all Her wretched race were infamous for vice. What reall vertue euer could proceede From ſuch an impious ſtock? or being borne, Could euer proſper? Doe not taxe ſo farre The iuſtice of the gods, that they ſhould puniſh In good Antigone her kindreds crimes: They haue already with dire puniſhments Pay'd for their proper guilt; and her rare vertues By the ſame law may challenge, as a due, The greateſt bleſſings that the gods can grant. No act of hers can recompence the guilt Her birth alone has brought into the world, And now we'll purge the city, Aephytus, Goe finde out Oedipus, and in our name Confine him to Cythaeron; ſpeake it death, If ere he ſhew within the walls of Thebes His ominous head. That baniſhment, my liege, Is come too late, hee is confin'd already Vnto his lateſt home, griefe for his ſonnes Has broke at laſt his great and ſtubborne heart. The queene Iocaſta hearing that ſad newes Beating her breaſt, tearing her hoary haire, And vttering ſad complaints againſt the gods, And fates ſeuere decrees, at laſt eſpy'd That fatall ſword by which old Laius dy'd On which ſhe fell, and ended her ſad life. We haue no teares for her, although our ſiſter; Let all the plagues, that Thebes ſo long has felt, Take end with them. None but Antigone Is now remaining of that family. Goe thou, Ianthus, in our name command her To keepe her houſe in Thebes, nor ſtirre from thence, Vntill our farther pleaſure ſhall be knowne. Be good to her, my Lord, for Aemons ſake. What ere miſhap befall Antigone Hee'll deepely ſhare in, for I feare his loue Is too too conſtant ere to be remoou'd. Rather then looſe him, grant his lawfull ſuite. Ile rather grant him death then marriage there. Remember hee's our ſonne, our only ſonne, And vertuous too, of whom the Kingdome boaſts. Blaſt not their hopes in him, the fate of loue Is irreſiſtable.