Dekker, Thomas / Massinger, Philip · published 1622 · first performed or written 1620 [licensed for stage, Oct 6; revised and re-licensed for stage, Jul 7, 1624] (Annals) tragedy · Red Bull (Revels) Company (first) T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi typicality 0.74 · 467 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
Again, what dainty relish on my tongue This fruit hath left, some Angel hath me fed, If so toothful, I will be banqueted. Hold. Not for Caesar. But for me thou shalt. Thou art no Twin to him that Last was here. You powers whom my soul bids me reverence Guard me: What art thou? I'm thy Master. Mine. And thou my everlasting slave; that Harpax, Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy Hell Am I. avaunt. I will not, cast thou down That Basket with the things in't, and fetch up What thou hast swallowed, and then take a drink Which I shall give thee, and i'm gone. My Fruit! Does this offend thee? see Spit it toth' earth, And tread upon it, or i'll piecemeal tear thee. Art thou with this affrighted? see, here's more. Fling them away, i'll take thee else & hang thee In a contorted Chain of icicles I'th' frigid Zone: down with them. At the bottom, One thing I found not yet, see. Oh, I'm tortured. Can this do't? hence thou Fiend infernal hence. Clasp Jupiter's Image, and away with that. At thee i'll fling that Iupiter, for methinks I serve a better Master, he now checks me For murdering my two daughters, put on by thee, By thy damned Rhetoric did I hunt the life Of Dorothea, the holy Virgin Martyr, She is not angry with the Axe nor me, But sends these presents to me, and its 〈◊〉 o'er world to find her, and from her white hand To beg a forgiveness. No, i'll bind thee here. I set up a strength above thine: this small weapon methinks is Armour hard enough. Keep from me. Art posting to thy centre? down hellhound, down, Me hast thou lost; that arm which hurls thee hence Save me, and set me up the strong defence In the fair Christians' quarrel. Exit thy foot there, Nor be thou shaken with a Caesar's voice, Though thousand deaths were in it: and I then Will bring thee to a River that shall wash Thy bloody hands clean, and more white than Snow, And to that Garden where these blessed things grow, And to that martyred Virgin, who hath sent That heavenly token to thee; Spread this brave wing And serve then Caesar, a far greater King. It is, it is some Angel, vanished again! Oh come back ravishing Boy, bright Messenger, Thou hast (by these mine eyes fixed on thy beauty) Illumined all my soul, now look I back On my black Tyrannies, which as they did. Out dare the bloodiest, thou blessed spirit that leads me, Teach me what I must do, and to do well, That my last act, the best may Parallel. Glory and Conquest still attend upon Triumphant Caesar.
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)
Agen, what dainty rellish on my tongue This fruit hath left, some Angell hath me fed, If so toothfull, I will be banqueted. Hold. Not for Caesar. But for me thou shalt. Thou art no Twin to him that Last was heere. You powers whom my soule bids me reuerence Guard me: What art thou? I'me thy Master. Mine. And thou my euerlasting slaue; that Harpax, Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy Hell Am I. Auant. I will not, cast thou downe That Basket with the things in't, and fetch vp What thou hast swallowed, and then take a drinke Which I shall giue thee, and i'me gon. My Fruit! Does this offend thee? see Spet it to'th earth, And tread vpon it, or ile peece-meale teare thee. Art thou with this affrighted? see, heares more. Fling them away, ile take thee else & hang thee In a contorted Chaine of Isicles I'th frigid Zone: downe with them. At the botome, One thing I found not yet, see. Oh, I'me tortur'd. Can this doo't? hence thou Fiend infernall hence. Claspe Iupiters Image, and away with that. At thee ile fling that Iupiter, for me thinkes I serue a better Master, he now checkes me For murthering my two daughters, put on by thee, By thy damn'd Rhetoricke did I hunt the life Of Dorothea, the holy Virgin Martyr, She is not angry with the Axe nor me, But sends these presents to me, and its Ore worlde to finde her, and from her white hand To beg a forgiuenesse. No, ile bind thee heere. I set up a strength aboue thine: this small weapon me thinkes is Armour hard enough. Keepe from me. Art poasting to thy center? down hel-hound, down, Me hast thou lost; that arme which hurlesthee hence Saue me, and set me vp the strong defence In the faire Christians quarrel. Exit thy foote there, Nor be thou shaken with a Caesars voyce, Though thousand deaths were in it: and I then Will bring thee to a Riuer that shall wash Thy bloudy hands cleane, and more white then Snow, And to that Garden where these blest things grow, And to that martyr'd Virgin, who hath sent That heauenly token to thee; Spred this braue wing And serue then Caesar, a farre greater King. It is, it is some Angell, vanish'd againe! Oh come back rauishing Boy, bright Messenger, Thou hast (by these mine eyes fixt on thy beauty) Illumined all my soule, now looke I backe On my blacke Tyranies, which as they did. Out dare the bloudiest, thou blest spirit that leades me, Teach me what I must do, and to doe well, That my last act, the best may Paralell. Glory and Conquest still attend vpon Triumphant Caesar.