Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.72 · 496 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.
What else should fright, or terrify 'em? True. In that confusion, must be the chief slaughter. Then we shall kill 'em bravest. And in heaps. Strew sacrifices. Make the earth an altar. And Rome the fire. 'Twill be a noble night. And worth all SYLLA'S days. When husbands, wives, Grandsires, and nephews, servants, and their lords, Virgins, and priests, the infant, and the nurse Go all to hell, together, in a fleet. I would have you, LONGINUS, and STATILIUS, To take the charge o' the firing, which must be, At a sign given with a trumpet, done In twelve chief places of the city, at once. The flax, and sulphur, are already laid In, at Cethegus' house. So are the weapons. GABINIUS, you, with other force, shall stop The pipes, and conduits: and kill those that come For water. What shall I do? All will have Employment, fear not: Ply the execution. For that, trust me, and CETHEGUS. I will be At hand, with the army, to meet those that scape. And LENTULUS, begird you POMPEY'S house, To seize his sons alive: for they are they Must make our peace with him. All else cut off, As Tarquin did the poppy heads: or mowers A field of thistles; or else, up, as ploughs Do barren lands; and strike together flints, And clods; th'ungrateful Senate, and the people: Till no rage, gone before or coming after, May weigh with yours, though horror leapt herself So much his lord in mischief? when all these, Shall, like the brethren sprung of dragon's teeth, Ruin each other; and he fall amongst 'em: With CRASSUS, POMPEY, or who else appears, But like, or near a great one. May my brain desolve to water, and my blood turn phlegm, My hands drop off, unworthy of my sword, And that b'inspired, of itself, to rip My breast, for my lost entrails; when I leave A soul, that will not serve: and who will, are The same with slaves, such clay I dare not fear. The cruelty, I mean to act, I wish Should be called mine, and tarry in my name; Whilst, afterages do toil out themselves, In thinking for the like, but do it less: And, were the power of all the fiends let loose, With fate to boot, it should be, still, example. When, what the Gaul, or Moore could not effect, Nor emulous Carthage, with their length of spite, Shall be the work of one, and that my night. I Thank your vigilance. Where's my brother, QVINTUS? Call all my servants up. Tell noble CURIUS, And say it to yourself, you are my savers; But that's too little for you, you are Rome's: What could I then, hope less? O brother! now, The engines I told you of, are working; The machine 'gins to move. Where are your weapons? Arm all my household presently. And charge The porter, he let no man in, till day. Not clients, and your friends?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1000–1067 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 15 of 37 in this edition
Length
496 words · 723 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T2 — Roman politics: senate, consuls and civil warcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.723 (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)
What else should fright, or terrifie 'hem? True. In that confusion, must be the chiefe slaughter. Then we shall kill 'hem brauest. And in heaps. Strew sacrifices. Make the earth an altar. And Rome the fire. 'Twill be a noble night. And worth all SYLA'S dayes. When husbands, wiues, Grandfires, and nephewes, seruants, and their lords, Virgins, and priests, the infant, and the nurse Goe all to hell, together, in a fleet. I would haue you, LONGINVS, and STATILIVS, To take the charge o' the firing, which must be, At a signe giuen with a trumpet, done In twelue chiefe places of the citie, at once. The flaxe, and sulphure, are alreadie laid In, at CETHEGVS house. So are the weapons. GABINIVS, you, with other force, shall stop The pipes, and conduits: and kill those that come For water. What shall I doe? All will haue Employment, feare not: Ply the execution. For that, trust me, and CETHEGVS. I will be At hand, with the armie, to meet those that scape. And LENTVLVS, begirt you POMPEY'S house, To seize his sonnes aliue: for they are they Must make our peace with him. All else cut off, As TARQVINE did the poppy heads: or mowers A field of thistles; or else, vp, as ploughes Doe barren lands; and strike together flints, And clods; th'vngratefull Senate, and the people: Till no rage, gone before or comming after, May weigh with yours, though horror leapt her selfe So much his lord in mischiefe? when all these, Shall, like the brethren sprung of dragons teeth, Ruine each other; and he fall amongst 'hem: With CRASSVS, POMPEY, or who else appeares, But like, or neere a great one. May my braine esolue to water, and my bloud turne phlegme, My hands drop off, vnworthy of my sword, And that b'inspired, of it selfe, to rip My brest, for my lost entraills; when I leaue A soule, that will not serue: and who will, are The same with slaues, such clay I dare not feare. The cruelty, I meane to act, I wish Should be call'd mine, and tarry in my name; Whil'st, after-ages doe toile out themselues, In thinking for the like, but doe it lesse: And, were the power of all the fiends let loose, With fate to boot, it should be, still, example. When, what the Gaule, or Moore could not effect, Nor emulous Carthage, with their length of spight, Shall be the worke of one, and that my night. I Thanke your vigilance. Where's my brother, QVINTVS? Call all my seruants vp. Tell noble CVRIVS, And say it to your selfe, you are my sauers; But that's too little for you, you are Romes: What could I then, hope lesse? O brother! now, The engines I told you of, are working; The machine 'gin's to moue. Where are your weapons? Arme all my house-hold presently. And charge The porter, he let no man in, till day. Not clients, and your friends?