Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
Oh General: Here is the Steed, we the Caparison: Hadst thou beheld— Pray now, no more: My Mother, who has a Charter to extol her Blood, When she does praise me, grieves me: I have done as you have done, that's what I can, Induced as you have been, that's for my Country: He that has but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act. You shall not be the Grave of your deserving, Rome must know the value of her own: 'Twere a Concealment worse than a Theft, No less than a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top of praises vouched, Would seem but modest: therefore I beseech you, In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done, before our Army hear me. I have some Wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves remembered. Should they not: Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselves with death: of all the Horses, Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store of all, The Treasure in this field achieved, and City, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'en forth, Before the common distribution, At your only choice. I thank you General: But cannot make my heart consent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I do refuse it, And stand upon my common part with those, That have beheld the doing. May these same Instruments, which you profane, Never sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I' th' field prove flatterers, let Courts and Cities be Made all of false-faced soothing: When Steel grows soft, as the Phrasites Silk, Let him be made an Overture for th' Wars: No more I say, for that I have not washed My Nose that bled, or foiled some debile Wretch, Which without note, here's many else have done, You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolical, As if I loved my little should be dieted In praises, sawc'st with Lies. Too modest are you: More cruel to your good report, then grateful To us, that give you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you (Like one that means his proper harm) in Manacles, Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it known, As to us, to all the World, That Caius Martius Wears this War's Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, known to the Camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th' applause and Clamour of the Host, Bear th' addition Nobly ever? I will go wash: And when my Face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush, or no: howbeit, I thank you, I mean to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder-crest your good Addition, To th' fairness of my power.
seed 43: T47 · seed 44: T45 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh Generall: Here is the Steed, wee the Capariſon: Hadſt thou beheld— Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When ſhe do's prayſe me, grieues me: I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can, Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act. You ſhall not be the Graue of your deſeruing, Rome muſt know the value of her owne: 'Twere a Concealement worſe then a Theft, No leſſe then a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to ſilence that, Which to the ſpire, and top of prayſes vouch'd, Would ſeeme but modeſt: therefore I beſeech you, In ſigne of what you are, not to reward What you haue done, before our Armie heare me. I haue ſome Wounds vpon me, and they ſmart To heare themſelues remembred. Should they not: Well might they feſter 'gainſt Ingratitude, And tent themſelues with death: of all the Horſes, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good ſtore of all, The Treaſure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth, Before the common diſtribution, At your onely choyſe. I thanke you Generall: But cannot make my heart conſent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuſe it, And ſtand vpon my common part with thoſe, That haue beheld the doing. May theſe ſame Inſtruments, which you prophane, Neuer ſound more: when Drums and Trumpets ſhall I' th' field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be Made all of falſe-fac'd ſoothing: When Steele growes ſoft, as the Phraſites Silke, Let him be made an Ouerture for th' Warres: No more I ſay, for that I haue not waſh'd My Noſe that bled, or foyl'd ſome debile Wretch, Which without note, here's many elſe haue done, You ſhoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little ſhould be dieted In prayſes, ſawc'ſt with Lyes. Too modeſt are you: More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience, If 'gainſt your ſelfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then reaſon ſafely with you: Therefore be it knowne, As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th' applauſe and Clamor of the Hoaſt, Beare th' addition Nobly euer? I will goe waſh: And when my Face is faire, you ſhall perceiue Whether I bluſh, or no: howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to ſtride your Steed, and at all times To vnder-creſt your good Addition, To th' faireneſſe of my power.