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 T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your Oration, and let him deliver the pigeons to the Emperor from you. Tell me, can you deliver an Oration to the Emperor with a grace. Nay truly sir, I could never say grace in all my life. Sirrah come hither, make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the Emperor, By me thou shalt have justice at his hands, Hold, hold, mean while here's money for thy charges, Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver up a Supplication? I sir. Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand sir, see you do it bravely. I warrant you sir, let me alone. Sirrah hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. Here Marcus, fold it in the Oration, For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant. And when thou hast given it to the Emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. God be with you sir, I will. Come Marcus let us go, Publius' follow me. Why Lords what wrongs are these, was ever seen, An Emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent O fegall justice, used in such contempt. My Lords you know the mightful Gods, How ever these disturbers of our peace Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath past But even with law against the wilful sons Of old Andronicus. And what and if His sorrows have so overwhelmed his wits? Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress, See here's to Ioue, and this to Mercury. This to Apollo, this to the God of war: Sweet skrowles to fly about the streets of Rome, What's this but libeling against the Senate, And blazoning our unjustice every where, A goodly humour is it not my Lords? As who would say in Rome no justice were. But if I live his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages, But he and his shall know that justice lives In Saturninus health, whom if he sleep, He'll so a wake as he in fury shall, Cut off the proudest conspirator that lives. My gracious Lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee and bear the faults of Titus age, The'ffects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scared his heart, And rather comfort his distressed plight, Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts: why thus it shall become High witted Tamora to gloze with all. But Titus I have touched thee to the quick, Thy life blood out: if Aron now be wise, Then is all safe, the Anchor in the port. How now good fellow wouldst thou speak with us?
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
VVhy sir, that is as sit as can bee to serue for your Oration, and let him deliuer the pidgeons to the Emperour from you. Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Emperour with a grace. Nay truelie sir, I could neuer say grace in all my life. Sirra come hither, make no more adoo, But giue your pidgeons to the Emperour, By mee thou shalt haue iustice at his hands, Hold, hold, meane while here's money for thy charges, Giue me pen and inke. Sirra, can you with a grace deliuer vp a Supplication? I sir. Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him, at the first approch you must kneele, then kisse his foote, then deliuer vp your pidgeons, and then looke for your reward. Ile bee at hand sir, see you doe it brauelie. I warrant you sir, let me alone. Sirra hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. Here Marcus, fold it in the Oration, For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant. And when thou hast giuen it to the Emperour, Knocke at my doore, and tell me what he saies. God be with you sir, I will. Come Marcus let vs goe, Publius follow mee. VVhy Lords what wrongs are these, was euer seene, An Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne, Troubled, confronted thus, and for the extent O fegall iustice, vsde in such contempt. My Lords you know the mightfull Gods, How euer these disturbers of our peace Buz in the peoples eares, there nought hath past But euen with law against the wilfull sonnes Of old Andronicus. And what and if His sorrowes haue so ouerwhelmde his witts? Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreakes, His fits, his frencie, and his bitternes? And now he writes to heauen for his redresse, See heres to Ioue, and this to Mercurie. This to Apollo, this to the God of warre: Sweete skrowles to flie about the streets of Rome, Whats this but libelling against the Senate, And blazoning our vniustice euerie where, A goodly humor is it not my Lords? As who would say in Rome no iustice were. But if I liue his fained extasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages, But he and his shall know that iustice liues In Saturninus health, whome if he sleepe, Hele so a wake as he in furie shall, Cut off the proud'st conspiratour that liues. My gratious Lord, my louely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calme thee and beare the faults of Titus age, The'ffects of sorrow for his valiant sonnes, VVhose losse hath pearst him deepe and skard his hart, And rather comfort his distressed plight, Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts: why thus it shall become Hie witted Tamora to glose with all. But Titus I haue touched thee to the quicke, Thy life blood out: if Aron now be wise, Then is all safe, the Anchor in the port How now good fellow wouldst thou speake with vs?