Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.84 · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Breath you my friends, well fought, we are come off, Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retire: Believe me Sirs, We shall be charged again. Whiles we have strooke By Interims and conveying gusts, we have heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods, Lead their successes, as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountering, May give you thankful Sacrifice. Thy News? The Citizens of Corioles have issued, And given to Lartius and to Martius' Battle: I saw our party to their Trenches driven, And then I came away. Though thou speakest truth, Me thinks thou speakest not well. How long is't since? Above an hour, my Lord. 'Tis not a mile: briefly we heard their drums. How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy News so late? Spies of the Volces Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel Three or four miles about, else had I sir Half an hour since brought my report. Whos's yonder, That does appear as he were Flayed? O Gods, He has the stamp of Martius, and I have Before time seen him thus. Come I too late? The Shepherd knows not Thunder from a Taber, More than I know the sound of Martius Tongue From every meaner man. Come I too late? I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. Oh! let me clip ye In Arms as sound, as when I wooed in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptial day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius? As with a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome, Even like a fawning Greyhound in the Leash, To let him slip at will. Where is that Slave Which told me they had beat you to your Trenches? Where is he? Call him hither. Let him alone, He did inform the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse ne'er shunned the Cat, as they did budge From Rascals worse than they. But how prevailed you? Will the time serve to tell, I do not think: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords o' th' Field? If not, why cease you till you are so? Martius, we have at disadvantage fought, And did retire to win our purpose. How lies their Battle? Know you on which side They have placed their men of trust? As I guess Martius, Their Bands i' th' Vanguard are the Ancients Of their best trust: O'er them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope. I do beseech you, By all the Battles wherein we have fought, By th' Blood we have shed together, By th' Vows we have made To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Assiduous, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the present (but Filling the air with Swords advanced) and Darts, We prove this very hour.
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)
Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off, Like Romans, neither fooliſh in our ſtands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs, We ſhall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue ſtrooke By Interims and conueying guſts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods, Leade their ſucceſſes, as we wiſh our owne, That both our powers, with ſmiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes? The Cittizens of Corioles haue yſſued, And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: I ſaw our party to their Trenches driuen, And then I came away. Though thou ſpeakeſt truth, Me thinkes thou ſpeak'ſt not well. How long is't ſince? Aboue an houre, my Lord. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes. How could'ſt thou in a mile confound an houre, And bring thy Newes ſo late? Spies of the Ʋolces Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele Three or foure miles about, elſe had I ſir Halfe an houre ſince brought my report. Whoſe yonder, That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods, He has the ſtampe of Martius, and I haue Before time ſeene him thus. Come I too late? The Shepherd knowes not Thunder frō a Taber, More then I know the ſound of Martius Tongue From euery meaner man. Come I too late? I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your owne. Oh! let me clip ye In Armes as ſound, as when I woo'd in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius? As with a man buſied about Decrees: Condemning ſome to death, and ſome to exile, Ranſoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome, Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leaſh, To let him ſlip at will. Where is that Slaue Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches? Where is he? Call him hither. Let him alone, He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouſe ne're ſhunn'd the Cat, as they did budge From Raſcals worſe then they. But how preuail'd you? Will the time ſerue to tell, I do not thinke: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a' th Field? If not, why ceaſe you till you are ſo? Martius, we haue at diſaduantage fought, And did retyre to win our purpoſe. How lies their Battell? Know you on wc ſide They haue plac'd their men of truſt? As I gueſſe Martius, Their Bands i' th Vaward are the Antients Of their beſt truſt: O're them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope. I do beſeech you, By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought, By th' Blood we haue ſhed together, By th' Vowes we haue made To endure Friends, that you directly ſet me Againſt Affidious, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the preſent (but Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts, We proue this very houre.