Peele, George / Shakespeare, William · published 1594 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) unassigned nearest T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
what's here? a scroll, and written round about, Let's see, Integer vitae scelerisque purus, non eget mauri iaculis nee ac. O 'tis a verse in Horace I know it well, I read it in the Grammar long ago. I just, a verse in Horace, right you have it, Now what a thing it is to be an Ass. here's no sound jest, the old man hath found their gilt, And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines, That wound beyond their feeling to the quick: But were our witty Empress well a foot, She would applaud Andronicus conceit, But let her rest in her unrest a while. And now young Lords, wast not a happy star, Led us to Rome strangers, and more than so Captives, to be advanced to this height: It did me good before the Palace gate, To brave the Tribune in his brothers hearing. But me more good to see so great a Lord, Basely in sinuate and send us gifts. Had he not reason Lord Demetrius, Did you not use his daughter very friendly? I would we had a thousand Roman Dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. A charitable wish, and full of love. Here lacks but your mother for to say Amen. And that would she for twenty thousand more. Come let us go and pray to all the Gods, For our beloved mother in her pains. Pray to the devils, the Gods have given us over. Why do the emperors trumpets flourish thus. Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son. Soft who comes here. God morrow Lords, O tell me did you see Aron the Moor. Well, more or less, or near a whit at all, Here Aron is, and what with Aron now. Oh gentle Aron we are all undone, Now help, or woe betid thee evermore. Why what a caterwauling dost thou keep, what dost thou wrap and fumble in thy arms? O that which I would hide from heavens eye, Our empress shame and stately Rome's disgrace, She is delivered Lords she is delivered. To whom. I mean she is brought a bed. Well god give her good rest, what hath he sent her? A devil. Why then she is the devils Dam, a joyful issue. A Ioyles, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue, Here is the babe as loathsome as a toad, Amongst the fair fast breeders of our clime, The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christian it with thy dagger's point. Zounds ye whore, is black so base a hue? Sweet blows you are a beauteous blossom sure. villain what hast thou done? That which thou canst not undo. Thou hast undone our mother. Villain I have done thy mother. And therein hellish dog thou hast undone her, Woe to her chance, and damned her loathed choice, Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend. It shall not live, It shall not die. Aron it must, the mother wils it so. What must it Nurse? then let no man but I. Do execution on my flesh and blood.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
what's here? a scrole, and written round about, Let's see, Integer vitae scelerisque purus, non eget mauri iaculis nee ac. O tis a verse in Horace I know it well, I read it in the Grammer long agoe. I iust, a verse in Horace, right you haue it, Now what a thing it is to be an Asse. Her's no sound east, the olde man hath found their gilt, And sends them weapons wrapt about with lines, That wound beyond their feeling to the quicke But were our wittie Empresse well a foote, Shee would applaud Andronicus conceit, But let her rest in her vnrest a while. And now young Lords, wast not a happie starre, Led vs to Rome strangers, and more than so Captiues, to be aduaunced to this height: It did me good before the Pallace gate, To braue the Tribune in his brothers hearing. But me more good to see so great a Lord, Baselie in sinuate and send vs gifts. Had he not reason Lord Demetrius, Did you not vse his daughter very friendlie? I would we had a thousand Romane Dames At such a bay, by turne to serue our lust. A charitable wish, and full of loue. Here lacks but your mother for to say Amen. And that would she for twenty thousand more. Come let vs goe and pray to all the Gods, For our beloued mother in her paines. Pray to the deuills, the Gods haue giuen vs ouer. VVhy do the Emperours trumpets flourish thus. Belike for ioy the Emperour hath a sonne. Soft who comes here. God morrow Lords, O tell me did you see Aron the Moore. VVell, more or lesse, or nere a whit at all, Here Aron is, and what with Aron now. Oh gentle Aron we are all vndone, Now helpe, or woe betide thee euermore. VVhy what a caterwalling dost thou keepe, what dost tou wrap and fumble in thy armes? O that which I would hide from heauens eye, Our Empresse shame and sttely Romes disgrace, Shee is deliuered Lords she is deliuered To whome. I meane she is brought a bed. VVell god giue her good rest, what hath he sent her? A diuel. VVhy then she is the deuils Dam, a ioyfull issue. A Ioyles, dismall, blacke, and sorrowfull issue, Here is the babe as loathsome as a toade, Amongst the faire fast breeders of our clime, The Empresse sends it thee, thy stampe, thy seale, And bids thee christen it with thy daggers point. Zounds ye whore, is blacke so base a hue? Sweete blowse you are a beautious blossome sure. Vilaine what hast thou done? That which thou canst not vndoe. Thou hast vndone our mother. Villaine I haue done thy mother. And therein helish dog thou hast vndone her, VVoe to her chaunce, and damde her loathed choice, Accurst the offspring of so foule a fiend. It shall not liue, It shall not die. Aron it must, the mother wils it so. VVhat must it Nurse? then let no man but I. Doe execution on my flesh and blood.