Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.83 · 503 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.
Peace, lewd traitor, Or wash thy mouth. He is an honest man And loves his country, would thou didst so, too. CATO, you are too zealous for him. No; Thou art too impudent. CATILINE, be silent. Nay then, I easily fear, my just defence Will come too late, to so much prejudice. Will he sit down?) Yet, let the world forsake me, My innocence must not. Thou innocent? So are the Furies. Yes, and Ate, too. Dost thou not blush, pernicious. CATILINE? Or, hath the paleness of thy guilt drunk up Thy blood, and drawn thy veins, as dry of that, As is thy heart of truth, thy breast of virtue? Whither at length wilt thou abuse our patience? Still shall thy fury mock us? To what licence Dares thy unbridled boldness run itself? Do all the nightly guards, kept on the palace, The cities watches, with the people's fears, The concourse of all good men, this so strong And fortified seat here of the Senate, The present looks upon thee, strike thee nothing? Dost thou not feel thy counsels all laid open? And see thy wild conspiracy bound in With each man's knowledge? which of all this order Canst thou think ignorant (if they'll but utter Their conscience to the right) of what thou didst Last night, what on the former, where thou wert, Whom thou didst call together, what your plots were? O age, and manners! This the Consul sees, The Senate understands, yet this man lives! Lives? ay, and comes here into counsel with us; Partakes the public cares: and with his eye Marks, and points out each man of us to slaughter. And we, good men, do satisfy the state, If we can shun but this man's sword, and madness. There was that virtue, once, in Rome, when good men Would, with more sharp coercion, have restrained A wicked citizen, than the deadliest foe. We have that law still, CATILINE, for thee; An act as grave, as sharp: The state's not wanting, Nor the authority of this Senate; we, We, that are Consuls, only fail ourselves. This twenty days, the edge of that decree We have let dull, and rust; kept it shut up, As in a sheath, which drawn should take thy head. Yet still thou liv'st: and liv'st not to lay by Thy wicked confidence, but to confirm it. I could desire, Fathers, to be found Still merciful, to seem, in these main perils Grasping the state, a man remiss, and slack; But then, I should condemn myself of sloth, And treachery. Their camp's in Italie, Pitched in the jaws, here, of Hetruria; Their numbers daily increasing, and their general Within our walls: nay, in our counsel! plotting Hourly some fatal mischief to the public. If, CATILINE, I should command thee, now, Here, to be taken, killed; I make just doubt, Whether all good men would not think it done Rather too late, than any man too cruel. Except he were of the same meal, and batch.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1294–1360 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 37 in this edition
Length
503 words · 692 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T2 — Roman politics: senate, consuls and civil warcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.826 (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)
Peace, leud traytor, Or wash thy mouth. He is an honest man And loues his countrey, would thou didst so, too. CATO, you are too zealous for him. No; Thou art too impudent. CATILINE, be silent. Nay then, I easily feare, my iust defence Will come too late, to so much preiudice. Will he sit downe?) Yet, let the world forsake me, My innocence must not. Thou innocent? So are the Furies. Yes, and Ate, too. Dost thou not blush, pernicious. CATILINE? Or, hath the palenesse of thy guilt drunke vp Thy bloud, and drawne thy veines, as drie of that, As is thy heart of truth, thy brest of vertue? Whither at length wilt thou abuse our patience? Still shall thy furie mocke vs? To what licence Dares thy vnbridled boldnesse runne it selfe? Doe all the nightly guards, kept on the palace, The cities watches, with the peoples feares, The concourse of all good men, this so strong And fortified seate here of the Senate, The present lookes vpon thee, strike thee nothing? Do'st thou not feele thy counsells all laid open? And see thy wild conspiracie bound in With each mans knowledge? which of all this order Canst thou thinke ignorant (if they'll but vtter Their conscience to the right) of what thou didst Last night, what on the former, where thou wert, Whom thou didst call together, what your plots were? O age, and manners! This the Consul sees, The Senate vnderstands, yet this man liues! Liues? I, and comes here into counsell with vs; Partakes the publique cares: and with his eye Markes, and points out each man of vs to slaughter. And we, good men, doe satisfie the state, If we can shunne but this mans sword, and madnesse. There was that vertue, once, in Rome, when good men Would, with more sharpe coërcion, haue restrain'd A wicked citizen, then the deadliest foe. We haue that law still, CATILINE, for thee; An act as graue, as sharpe: The state's not wanting, Nor the authoritie of this Senate; we, We, that are Consuls, onely faile our selues. This twentie dayes, the edge of that decree We haue let dull, and rust; kept it shut vp, As in a sheath, which drawne should take thy head. Yet still thou liu'st: and liu'st not to lay by Thy wicked confidence, but to confirme it. I could desire, Fathers, to be found Still mercifull, to seeme, in these maine perills Grasping the state, a man remisse, and slacke; But then, I should condemne my selfe of sloth, And trecherie. Their campe's in Italie, Pitch'd in the iawes, here, of Hetruria; Their numbers daily increasing, and their generall Within our walls: nay, in our counsell! plotting Hourely some fatall mischiefe to the publique. If, CATILINE, I should command thee, now, Here, to be taken, kill'd; I make iust doubt, Whether all good men would not thinke it done Rather too late, then any man too cruell. Except he were of the same meale, and batch.