Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T60 Imperial Rome: rulers, favour and politi · 490 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T60: caesar, rome, emperor, empire, honour, lord, lucius, great, palsgrave, kings.
How can this be? When came he to this Town? To day my Lord: and for three months before, No interim, not a minute's vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company. here comes the Countess, now heaven walks on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madness, Three months this youth hath tended upon me, But more of that anon. Take him aside. What would my Lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. Madam: Gracious Olivia. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord. My Lord would speak, my duty hushes me. If it be aught to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after Music. Still so cruel? Still so constant Lord. What to perverseness? you uncivil Lady To whose ingrate, and unauspicious Altars My soul the faithfullest offerings have breathed out That ere devotion tendered. What shall I do? Even what it please my Lord, that shall become him Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian thief, at point of death Kill what I love: (a savage jealousy, That sometime savours nobly) but hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour: Live you the Marble-breasted Tyrant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I'll sacrifice the Lamb that I do love, To spite a Raven's heart within a Dove. And I most jocund, apt, and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye. Where goes Cesario? After him I love, More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More by all moor, then ere I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesss above Punish my life, for tainting of my love. Ay me detested, how am I beguiled? Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Hast thou forgot thyself? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father. Come, away. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay. Husband? I Husband. Can he that deny? Her husband, sirrah? No my Lord, not I Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Fear not Cesario, take thy fortunes up, Be that thou knowst thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fearest. O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reverence here to unfold, though lately we intended To keep in darkness, what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly passed, between this youth, and me.
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)
How can this be? When came he to this Towne? To day my Lord: and for three months before, No intrim, not a minutes vacancie, Both day and night did we keepe companie. Heere comes the Counteſſe, now heauen walkes on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madneſſe, Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aſide. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein Oliuia may ſeeme ſeruiceable? Ceſario, you do not keepe promiſe with me. Madam: Gracious Oliuia. What do you ſay Ceſario? Good my Lord. My Lord would ſpeake, my dutie huſhes me. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulſome to mine eare As howling after Muſicke. Still ſo cruell? Still ſo conſtant Lord. What to peruerſeneſſe? you vnciuill Ladie To whoſe ingrate, and vnauſpicious Altars My ſoule the faithfull'ſt offrings haue breath'd out That ere deuotion tender'd. What ſhall I do? Euen what it pleaſe my Lord, that ſhal becom him Why ſhould I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill what I loue: (a ſauage iealouſie, That ſometime ſauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to non-regardance caſt my faith, And that I partly know the inſtrument That ſcrewes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the Marble-breſted Tirant ſtill. But this your Minion, whom I know you loue, And whom, by heauen I ſweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare out of that cruell eye, Where he ſits crowned in his maſters ſpight. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in miſchiefe: Ile ſacrifice the Lambe that I do loue, To ſpight a Rauens heart within a Doue. And I moſt iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you reſt, a thouſand deaths would dye. Where goes Ceſario? After him I loue, More then I loue theſe eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then ere I ſhall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witneſſes aboue Puniſh my life, for tainting of my loue. Aye me deteſted, how am I beguil'd? Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Haſt thou forgot thy ſelfe? Is it ſo long? Call forth the holy Father. Come, away. Whether my Lord? Ceſario, Husband, ſtay. Husband? I Husband. Can he that deny? Her husband, ſirrah? No my Lord, not I. Alas, it is the baſeneſſe of thy feare, That makes thee ſtrangle thy propriety: Feare not Ceſario, take thy fortunes vp, Be that thou know'ſt thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'ſt. O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkeneſſe, what occaſion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou doſt know Hath newly paſt, betweene this youth, and me.