Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi · 498 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Most willingly: but yet my Caution was more pertinent than the rebuke you give it. He loves your People, but tie him not to be their Bed-fellow: Worthy Cominius speak. Nay, keep your place. Sat Coriolanus: never shame to hear What you have Nobly done. Your Honour's pardon: I had rather have my Wounds to heal again, Then hear say how I got them. Sir, I hope my words dis-benched you not? No Sir: yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but your People, I love them as they weigh— Pray now sit down. I had rather have one scratch my Head i' th' Sun, When the Alarm were struck, then idly sit To hear my Nothings monstered. Masters of the People, Your multiplying Spawn, how can he flatter? That's thousand to one good one, when you now see He had rather venture all his Limbs for Honour, Then on ones Ears to hear it. Proceed Cominius. I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be uttered feebly: it is held, That Valour is the chiefest Virtue, And most dignifies the haver: if it be, The man I speak of, cannot in the World Be singly counter-poysed. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a Head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others: our then Dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian Shin he drove The brizled Lips before him: he bestrid An o'erpress Roman, and i' th' Consul's view Slew three Opposers: Tarquin's self he met, And struck him on his Knee: in that day's feats, When he might act the Woman in the Scene, He proved best man i' th' field, and for his meed Was Brow-bound with the Oak. His Pupil age Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea, And in the brunt of seventeen Battles since, He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this last, Before, and in Corioles, let me say I cannot speak him home: he stopped the flyers, And by his rare example made the Coward Turn terror into sport: as Weeds before A Vessel under sail, so men obeyed, And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took from face to foot: He was a thing of Blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying Cries: alone he entered The mortal Gate of th' City, which he painted With shunlesse destiny: aydelesse came off, And with a sudden re-inforcement struck Carioles like a Planet: now all's his, When by and by the din of War 'gan pierce His ready sense: then strait his doubled spirit Requickned what in flesh was fatigate, And to the Battle came he, where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 'twere A perpetual spoil: and till we called Both Field and City ours, he never stood To ease his Breast with panting.
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)
Moſt willingly: but yet my Caution was more pertinent then the rebuke you giue it. He loues your People, but tye him not to be their Bed-fellow: Worthie Cominius ſpeake. Nay, keepe your place. Sit Coriolanus: neuer ſhame to heare What you haue Nobly done. Your Honors pardon: I had rather haue my Wounds to heale againe, Then heare ſay how I got them. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not? No Sir: yet oft, When blowes haue made me ſtay, I fled from words. You ſooth'd not, therefore hurt not: but your People, I loue them as they weigh— Pray now ſit downe. I had rather haue one ſcratch my Head i' th' Sun, When the Alarum were ſtrucke, then idly ſit To heare my Nothings monſter'd. Maſters of the People, Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter? That's thouſand to one good one, when you now ſee He had rather venture all his Limbes for Honor, Then on ones Eares to heare it. Proceed Cominius. I ſhall lacke voyce: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be vtter'd feebly: it is held, That Valour is the chiefeſt Vertue, And moſt dignifies the hauer: if it be, The man I ſpeake of, cannot in the World Be ſingly counter-poys'd. At ſixteene yeeres, When Tarquin made a Head for Rome, he fought Beyond the marke of others: our then Dictator, Whom with all prayſe I point at, ſaw him fight, When with his Amazonian Shinne he droue The brizled Lippes before him: he beſtrid An o're-preſt Roman, and i' th' Conſuls view Slew three Oppoſers: Tarquins ſelfe he met, And ſtrucke him on his Knee: in that dayes feates, When he might act the Woman in the Scene, He prou'd beſt man i' th' field, and for his meed Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupill age Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea, And in the brunt of ſeuenteene Battailes ſince, He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this laſt, Before, and in Corioles, let me ſay I cannot ſpeake him home: he ſtopt the flyers, And by his rare example made the Coward Turne terror into ſport: as Weeds before A Veſſell vnder ſayle, ſo men obey'd, And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Deaths ſtampe, Where it did marke, it tooke from face to foot: He was a thing of Blood, whoſe euery motion Was tim'd with dying Cryes: alone he entred The mortall Gate of th' Citie, which he painted With ſhunleſſe deſtinie: aydeleſſe came off, And with a ſudden re-inforcement ſtrucke Carioles like a Planet: now all's his, When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce His readie ſence: then ſtraight his doubled ſpirit Requickned what in fleſh was fatigate, And to the Battaile came he, where he did Runne reeking o're the liues of men, as if 'twere A perpetuall ſpoyle: and till we call'd Both Field and Citie ours, he neuer ſtood To eaſe his Breſt with panting.