Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T34: thebes, antigone, polynices, creon, eteocles, war, theban, gods, dear, country.
Why did the tyrant thus divide our sufferings? The tomb, where thou art closed, had been to me More pleasing than a palace. Heaven forefend; May the just gods hereafter recompense Argia's virtue with a happier love Than Polynices was, and happier friends Than Thebes can give, do not lament for me, Not fear the torments of my lingering death. I am provided of a remedy That shall delude the cruelty of Creon. Farewell my dearest Aemon, whose loved presence More than the sight of day afflicts my soul To lose so soon, farewell where ere thou art, Till in the other world we meet again. No news of comfort, or discomfort yet? Forgive me faithful Dircus, if my soul My lovesick soul unjustly do accuse Thy diligent care, and think thee slack; my heart Till thy return is stretched upon the wrack, A rack of torturing thoughts, more painful far Than tyranny could wish, or foes invent To punish foes, dost thou delay, because The news thou bring'st is ill? if my fair love Be dead, or doomed to death, why dost thou keep My soul from her Celestial company? If all be well— but oh presumptuous soul check that too happy thought again; I know My father's nature is unmovable In all resolves, and this bound by an oath So deep, so solemn, and inviolable As ere't be broke will break this heart of mine. See here he comes, speak man, what news? Ay me, Thy very looks have blasted me before Thy tongue can be their sad interpreter. No news but black could force a soldier's tears. Antigone is dead. Not dead, my Lord, But lives among the dead. How man? Expound This enigmatic sorrow. In a tomb, Where never more she shall behold the day Nor Phoebus splendour, by the king's command, Is fair Antigone enclosed alive— To famish there and die. Enough, enough. Shut up alive to starve, oh horrid doom! As if that death alone, though ne'er so gentle, Had not been punishment enough for her For such a cause as that; but yet this sentence Gives respite to her death, and leaves a way To our prevention; I must spend no time In thinking now; all action is required. Thus it must be; be speedy faithful friend, Run to my mother, and with all the vows, And vehement protestations that thou canst From me assure her, if Antigone Be not released in time, it shall not lie In all the power of earth to save my life. Her love I fear not, though my father now Have cast his frown upon me, to this place Return again with all thy speed, whilst I device some other means if that should fail.
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)
Why did the tyrant thus diuide our ſufferings? The tombe, where thou art cloſ'd, had beene to me More pleaſing then a palace. Heauen forefend; May the iuſt gods hereafter recompence Argiaes vertue with a happyer loue Then Polynices was, and happier friends Then Thebes can giue, doe not lament for me, Not feare the torments of my lingring death. I am prouided of a remedy That ſhall delude the cruelty of Creon. Farewell my deareſt Aemon, whoſe lou'd preſence More then the ſight of day afflicts my ſoule To looſe ſo ſoone, farewell where ere thou art, Till in the other world we meete againe. No newes of comfort, or diſcomfort yet? Forgiue me faithfull Dircus, if my ſoule My loue-ſicke ſoule vniuſtly doe accuſe Thy diligent care, and thinke thee ſlacke; my heart Till thy returne is ſtretch'd vpon the wracke, A racke of torturing thoughts, more painefull farre Then tyranny could wiſh, or foes inuent To puniſh foes, doſt thou delay, becauſe The newes thou bring'ſt is ill? if my faire loue Be dead, or doom'd to death, why doo'ſt thou keepe My ſoule from her Celeſtiall company? If all be well—but oh preſumptous ſoule Checke that too happy thought againe; I know My fathers nature is vnmoouable In all reſolues, and this bound by an oath So deepe, ſo ſolemne, and inuiolable As ere't be broke will break this heart of mine. See here he comes, ſpeake man, what newes? Ay me, Thy very lookes haue blaſted me before Thy tongue can be their ſad interpreter. No newes but black could force a ſouldiers teares. Antigone is dead. Not dead, my Lord, But liues among the dead. How man? Expound This Aenigmatike ſorrow. In a tombe, Where neuer more ſhe ſhall behold the day Nor Phoebus ſplendour, by the Kings command, Is faire Antigone encloſ'd aliue— To famiſh there and dy. Enough, enough. Shut vp aliue to ſtarue, oh horrid doome! As if that death alone, though nere ſo gentle, Had not beene puniſhment enough for her For ſuch a cauſe as that; but yet this ſentence Giues reſpite to her death, and leaues a way To our preuention; I muſt ſpend no time In thinking now; all action is requir'd. Thus it muſt be; be ſpeedy faithfull friend, Runne to my mother, and with all the vowes, And vehement proteſtations that thou can'ſt From me aſſure her, if Antigone Be not releaſt in time, it ſhall not ly In all the power of earth to ſaue my life. Her loue I feare not, though my father now Haue caſt his frowne vpon me, to this place Returne againe with all thy ſpeed, whileſt I Deuiſe ſome other meanes if that ſhould faile.