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 (?) unassigned nearest T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi · 492 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
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 guilt, And sends the 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, was't 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 insinuate, 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 lack's but you 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 Emperor's trumpets flourish thus? Belike for joy the Emperor hath a son. Soft, who comes here? Good morrow Lords: O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, here Aaron is, and what with Aaron now? Oh gentle Aaron, 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 thine arms? O that which I would hide from heaven's 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 Devil's Dam: a joyful issue. A joyless, dismal, black &, sorrowful issue, here is the babe as loathsome as a toad, Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime, The Empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christian it with thy dagger's point. Out you 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. And therein hellish dog, thou hast undone, 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. Aaron it must, the mother will it so. What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood. I'll broach the Tadpole on my Rapier's point: Nurse give it me, my sword shall soon dispatch it.
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)
I iuſt, a verſe in Horace: right, you haue it, Now what a thing it is to be an Aſſe? Heer's no ſound ieſt, the old man hath found their guilt, And ſends the weapons wrapt about with lines, That wound (beyond their feeling) to the quick: But were our witty Empreſſe well a foot, She would applaud Andronicus conceit: But let her reſt, in her vnreſt a while. And now young Lords, wa'st not a happy ſtarre Led vs to Rome ſtrangers, and more then ſo; Captiues, to be aduanced 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 Baſely inſinuate, and ſend vs gifts. Had he not reaſon Lord Demetrius? Did you not vſe his daughter very friendly? 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. Heere lack's but you mother for to ſay, Amen. And that would ſhe for twenty thouſand more. Come, let vs go, and pray to all the Gods For our beloued mother in her paines. Pray to the deuils, the gods haue giuen vs ouer. Why do the Emperors trumpets flouriſh thus? Belike for ioy the Emperour hath a ſonne. Soft, who comes heere? Good morrow Lords: O tell me, did you ſee Aaron the Moore? Well, more or leſſe, or nere a whit at all, Heere Aaron is, and what with Aaron now? Oh gentle Aaron, we are all vndone, Now helpe, or woe betide thee euermore. Why, what a catterwalling doſt thou keepe? What doſt thou wrap and fumble in thine armes? O that which I would hide from heauens eye, Our Empreſſe ſhame, and ſtately Romes diſgrace, She is deliuered Lords, ſhe is deliuered. To whom? I meane ſhe is brought a bed? Wel God giue her good reſt. What hath he ſent her? A deuill. Why then ſhe is the Deuils Dam: a ioyfull iſſue. A ioyleſſe, diſmall, blacke &, ſorrowfull iſſue, Heere is the babe as loathſome as a toad, Among'ſt the faireſt breeders of our clime, The Empreſſe ſends it thee, thy ſtampe, thy ſeale, And bids thee chriſten it with thy daggers point. Out you whore, is black ſo baſe a hue? Sweet blowſe, you are a beautious bloſſome ſure. Villaine what haſt thou done? That which thou canſt not vndoe. Thou haſt vndone our mother. And therein helliſh dog, thou haſt vndone, Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choyce, Accur'ſt the off-ſpring of ſo foule a fiend. It ſhall not liue. It ſhall not die. Aaron it muſt, the mother wils it ſo. What, muſt it Nurſe? Then let no man but I Doe execution on my fleſh and blood. Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point: Nurſe giue it me, my ſword ſhall ſoone diſpatch it.