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 · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
Good Uncle take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil, Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, Till he be brought unto the empress face, For testimony of her foul proceed, And see the Ambush of our friends be strong, I fear the Emperor means no good to us. Some devil whisper curses in my ear, And prompt me that my tongue may utter forth, The venomous malice of my swelling heart. Away inhuman dog unhallowed slave, Sirs help our uncle to convey him in, The trumpet's show the Emperor is at hand. What hath the firmament more suns than one? What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? Rome's Emperor and Nephew break the Parley, These quarrels must be quietly debated, The feast is ready which the careful Titus, Hath ordained to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league and good to Rome, Please you therefore, draw nigh and take your places. Marcus we will. Welcome my Lord, welcome dread Queen, Welcome ye warlike Goths, welcome Lucius, And welcome all although the cheer be poor, 'twill fill your stomachs, please you eat of it. Why art thou thus attired Andronicus? Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your Empress. We are beholding to you good Andronicus, And if your highness knew my heart you were, My Lord the Emperor resolve me this, Was it well done of rash Viginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand Because she was enforced, stained, and deflowrde? It was Andronicus. Your reason mighty Lord. Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual, A pattern precedent, and lively warrant, For me most wretched to perform the like, Die, die, Lavinia and thy shame with thee, And with thy shame thy Father's sorrow die. What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind. Killed her for whom my tears have made me blind, I am as woeful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he, To do this outrage, and it now is done. What was she ravished, tell who did the deed. Will't please you eat, wilt please your highness feed. Why hast thou slain thine only Daughter thus? Not I, ttwas Chiron, and Demetrius, They Ravished her and cut away her tongue, And they, ttwas they, that did her all this wrong. Go fetch them hither to us presently. Why there they are both baked in this Pie. Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred, 'tis true, 'tis true witness my knives sharp point. Die frantic wretch for this accursed deed, Can the sons eye behold his father bleed? there's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. You sad faced men, people and sons of Rome By uproars severed as a flight of fowl, Scattered by winds and high tempestuous Oh let me teach you how to knit again, This scattered corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body.
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)
Good Vnckle take you in this barberous Moore, This rauenous tiger, this accursed diuell, Let him receaue no susnace, fetter him, Till he be brought vnto the Empresse face, For testemonie of her foule proceedings, And see the Ambush of our friends be strong, I feare the Emperour meanes no good to vs. Some diuell whisper curses in my eare, And prompt me that my tongue may vtter forth, The venemous mallice of my swelling hart. Away inhumane dogge vnhallowed slaue, Sirs help our vnckle to conuay him in, The trumpets shewe the Emperour is at hand. VVhat hath the firmament mo sunnes than one? VVhat boots it thee to call thy selfe a sunne? Romes Emperour and Nephew break the Parle, These quarrels must be quietly debated, The feast is ready which the carefull Titus, Hath ordainde to an honorable end, For peace, for loue, for league and good to Rome, Please you therefore, draw ni and take your places. Marcus we will. VVelcome my Lord, welcome dread Quene, VVelcome yee warlike Gothes, welcome Lucius, And welcome all although the cheare be poore, Twill fill your stomacks, please you eate of it. VVhy art thou thus attired Andronicus? Because I would be sure to haue all well, To entertaine your highnes and your Empresse. VVe are beholding to you good Andronicus, And if your highnes knew my hart you were, My Lord the Emperour resolue me this, VVas it well done of rash Viginius To slay his daughter with his owne right hand Because she was enforst, stainde, and deflowrde? It was Andronicus. Your reason mighty Lord. Because the girle should not suruiue her shame, And by her presence still renewe his sorrowes. A reason mighty, strong, and effectuall, A patterne president, and liuelie warrant, For me most wretched to performe the like, Die, die, Lauinia and thy shame wirh thee, And with thy shame thy Fathers sorrow die. VVhat hast thou done, vnnaturall and vnkinde. Kild her for whom my teares haue made me blind, I am as woefull as Virginius was, And haue a thousand times more cause than he, To doe this outrage, and it now is done. VVhat was she rauisht, tell who did the deede. VVilt please you eate, wilt please your highnes feed. VVhy hast thou slaine thine only Daughter thus? Not I, twas Chiron, and Demetrius, They Rauisht her and cut away her tongue, And they, twas they, that did her all this wrong. Goe fetch them hither to vs presently. VVhy there they are both baked in this Pie. VVhereof their Mother daintilie hath fed, Eating the flesh that shee her selfe hath bred, Tis true, tis true witnes my kniues sharpe point. Die franticke wretch for this accursed deede, Can the sonnes eie behold his father bleede? Ther's meede for meede, death for a deadly deede. You sad fade men, people and sons of Rome By vprores seuerd as a flight of fowle, Scatterd by winds and high tempesuous guss, Oh let me teach you how to knit againe, This scattered corne into one mutuall sheaffe, These broken limbs againe into one bodie.