Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 503 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
In faith, I will not. By JUNO, I would not see him. I'll not hinder you. You know, he will not be kept out, madame. No, Nor shall not, careful GALLA, by my means. As I do live, SEMPRONIA— What needs this? Go, say, I am asleep, and ill at ease. So does the Senate, too, know, you can bear. By all the gods, that Senate will smart deep For your upbraidings. I should be right sorry To have the means so to be venged on you, (At least, the will) as I shall shortly on them. But, go you on still; fare you well, dear lady: You could not still be fair unless you were proud. You will repent these moods, and ere't be long, too. I shall ha' you come about, again. Do you think so? Yes, and I know so. By what augury? By the fair entrails of the matrons chests, Gold, pearl, and jewels, here in Rome, which FULVIA Will then (but late) say that she might have shared: And, grieving, miss. Tut, all your promised mountains, And seas, I am so stalely acquainted with— But, when you see the universal flood Run by your coffers; that my lords, the Senators, Are sold for slaves, their wives for bondwomen, Their houses, and fine gardens given away, And all their goods, under the spear, at out cry, And you have none of this; but are still FULVIA, Or perhaps less, while you are thinking of it: You will advise then, Coyness, with your cushion. And look o' your fingers; say, how you were wished; And so, he left you. Call him again, GALLA: This is not usual! something hangs on this That I must win out of him. How now, melt you? Come, you will laugh, now, at my easiness! But, 'tis no miracle: Doves, they say, will bill, After their pecking, and their murmuring. Yes, And then 'tis kindly. I would have my love Angry, sometimes, to sweeten off the rest Of her behaviour. You do see, I study How I may please you, then. But you think, CURIUS, 'Tis covetise hath wrought me: if you love me, Change that unkind conceit. By my loved soul, I love thee, like to it; and 'tis my study, More than mine own revenge, to make thee happy. And 'tis that just revenge doth make me happy To hear you prosecute: and which, indeed, Hath won me, to you, more, than all the hope Of what can else be promised. I love valour Better, than any lady loves her face, Or dressing: than myself does. Let me grow Still, where I do embrace. But, what good means Ha'you t'effect it? Shall I know your project? Thou shalt, if thou'lt be gracious. As I can be. And wilt thou kiss me, then? As close as shells Of cockles meet. And print 'em deep? Quite through Our subtle lips. And often? I will sow 'em, Faster, than you can reap. What is your plot?
seed 43: T1 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
In faith, I will not. By IVNO, I would not see him. Ile not hinder you. You know, he will not be kept out, madame. No, Nor shall not, carefull GALLA, by my meanes. As I doe liue, SEMPRONIA — What needs this? Goe, say, I am a-sleepe, and ill at ease. So do's the Senate, too, know, you can beare. By all the gods, that Senate will smart deepe For your vpbraidings. I should be right sorry To haue the meanes so to be veng'd on you, (At least, the will) as I shall shortly on them. But, goe you on still; fare you well, deare lady: You could not still be faire'vnlesse you were proud. You will repent these moodes, and ere't be long, too. I shall ha' you come about, againe. Doe you thinke so? Yes, and I know so. By what augurie? By the faire entrailes of the matrons chests, Gold, pearle, and iewells, here in Rome, which FVLVIA Will then (but late) say that shee might haue shar'd: And, grieuing, misse. Tut, all your promis'd mountaynes, And seas, I am so stalely acquainted with— But, when you see the vniuersall floud Runne by your coffers; that my lords, the Senators, Are sold for slaues, their wiues for bond-women, Their houses, and fine gardens giuen away, And all their goods, vnder the speare, at out cry, And you haue none of this; but are still FVLVIA, Or perhaps lesse, while you are thinking of it: You will aduise then, Coynesse, with your cushion. And looke o' your fingers; say, how you were wish'd; And so, he left you. Call him againe, GALLA: This is not vsuall! something hangs on this That I must winne out of him. How now, melt you? Come, you will laugh, now, at my easinesse! But, 'tis no miracle: Doues, they say, will bill, After their pecking, and their murmuring. Yes, And then 'tis kindly. I would haue my loue Angrie, sometimes, to sweeten off the rest Of her behauiour. You doe see, I studie How I may please you, then. But you thinke, CVRIVS, 'Tis couetise hath wrought me: if you loue me, Change that vnkinde conceipt. By my lou'd soule, I loue thee, like to it; and 'tis my studie, More then mine owne reuenge, to make thee happy. And 'tis that iust reuenge doth make me happy To heare you prosequute: and which, indeed, Hath wonne me, to you, more, then all the hope Of what can else be promis'd. I loue valour Better, then any lady loues her face, Or dressing: then my selfe do's. Let me grow Still, where I doe embrace. But, what good meanes Ha'you t'effect it? Shall I know your proiect? Thou shalt, if thou'lt be gracious. As I can be. And wilt thou kisse me, then? As close as shells Of cockles meet. And print 'hem deepe? Quite through Our subtle lips. And often? I will sow 'hem, Faster, then you can reape. What is your plot?