Peele, George / Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592] (Annals) tragedy · Pembroke's Men (?) T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.69 · 450 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
'tis sure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if she wind you once, she's with the Lion deeply still in league. And lulls him whilst she palyeth on her back, And when he sleeps will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a Gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by: the angry Northern wind Will blow these sands like Sibels leaves abroad, And where's your lesson then. Boy what say you? I say my Lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bedchamber should not be safe, For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his ungrateful country done the like. And Uncle so will I, and if I live. Come go with me into mine Armoury, Lucius I'll fit thee, and withal, my boy Shall carry from me to the Empress' sons, Presents that I intent to send them both, Come, come, thou'st do thy message, wilt thou not? I with my dagger in their bosom's Grandsire: No boy not so, I'll teach thee another course, Lavinia come, Marcus look to my house, Lucius and I'll go brave it at the Court, I marry will we sir, and we'll be waited on. O heavens! Can you hear a good man groan And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Than foeman's marks upon his battered shield, But yet so just, that he will not revenge, Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus. Demetrius here's the son of Lucius, He hath some message to deliver us. I some mad message from his mad Grandfather. My Lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Roman Gods confound you both. Gramercy lovely Lucius, what's the news? For villanie's marked with rape. May it please you, My Grandsire well advised hath sent by me, The goodliest weapons of his Armoury, To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome, for so he bade me say: And so I do and with his gifts present Your Lordships, when ever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well, And so I leave you both: like bloody villains. What's here? a scroll, & written round about? Let's see. Integer vitae scelerisque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus. O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well. I read it in the Grammar long ago.
Peele, George / Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas
Publication year (edition)
1623
First performance / composition (Annals)
1594 [Jan 23 (24); poss. written 1590-1592]
First performance (BritDrama)
1592 [1584-1594]
Company (BritDrama)
Pembroke's Men (?)
Genre (British Drama)
tragedy
Play type
Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 214 · TCP A11954 · DEEP 5081.27
Edition role
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1556–1611 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 25 of 40 in this edition
Length
450 words · 615 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T2 — Roman politics: senate, consuls and civil warcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.692 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: T2 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Tis ſure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt theſe Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if ſhe winde you once, Shee's with the Lyon deepely ſtill in league. And Iulls him whilſt ſhe palyeth on her backe, And when he ſleepes will ſhe do what ſhe liſt. You are a young huntſman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I will goe get a leafe of braſſe, And with a Gad of ſteele will write theſe words, And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde Will blow theſe ſands like Sibels leaues abroad, And wheres your leſſon then. Boy what ſay you? I ſay my Lord, that if I were a man, Their mothers bed-chamber ſhould not be ſafe, For theſe bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his vngratefull country done the like. And Vncle ſo will I, and if I liue. Come goe with me into mine Armorie, Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy Shall carry from me to the Empreſſe ſonnes, Preſents that I intend to ſend them both, Come, come, thou'ſt do thy meſſage, wilt thou not? I with my dagger in their boſomes Grandſire: No boy not ſo, Ile teach thee another courſe, Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my houſe, Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court, I marry will we ſir, and weele be waited on. O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone And not relent, or not compaſſion him? Marcus attend him in his extaſie, That hath more ſcars of ſorrow in his heart, Then foe-mens markes vpon his batter'd ſhield, But yet ſo iuſt, that he will not reuenge, Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus. Demetrius heeres the ſonne of Lucius, He hath ſome meſſage to deliuer vs. I ſome mad meſſage from his mad Grandfather. My Lords, with all the humbleneſſe I may, I greete your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Romane Gods confound you both. Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes? For villanie's markt with rape. May it pleaſe you, My Grandſire well aduiſ'd hath ſent by me, The goodlieſt weapons of his Armorie, To gratifie your honourable youth, The hope of Rome, for ſo he bad me ſay: And ſo I do and with his gifts preſent Your Lordſhips, when euer you haue need, You may be armed and appointed well, And ſo I leaue you both: like bloody villaines. What's heere? a ſcrole, & written round about? Let's ſee. Integer vitae ſceleriſque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus. O 'tis a verſe in Horace, I know it well. I read it in the Grammer long agoe.