Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.72 · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
So did I, I'll be sworn: He is simply the rarest man i' th' world. I think he is: but a greater soldier than he, You wots one. Who my Master? Nay, it's no matter for that. Worth six on him. Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater Soldier. Faith look you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the Defence of a Town, our General is excellent. I, and for an assault too. Oh Slaves, I can tell you News, News you Rascals What, what, what? Let's partake. I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as live be a condemned man. Wherefore? Wherefore? Why here's he that was wont to thwack our General, Caius Martius'. Why do you say, thwack our General? I do not say thwack our General, but he was always good enough for him. Come we are fellows and friends: he was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself. He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth on't before Corioles, he scotched him, and notched him like a Carbinado. And he had been Cannibal given, he might have boiled and eaten him too. But more of thy News. Why he is so made on here within, as if he were Son and Heir to Mars, set at upper end o' th' Table: No question asked him by any of the Senators, but they stand bald before him. Our General himself makes a Mistress of him, Sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his Discourse. But the bottom of the News is, our General is cut i' th' middle, & but one half of what he was yesterday. For the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole Table. he'll go he says, and sole the Porter of Rome Gates by th' ears. He will mow all down before him, and leave his passage pouled. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine. Do't? he will do't: for look you sir, he has as many Friends as Enemies: which Friends sir as it were, durst not (look you sir) show themselves (as we term it) his Friends, whilst he's in Directitude. Directitude? What's that? But when they shall see sir, his Crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their Burrougheses (like Coneys after Rain) and revel all with him. But when goes this forward: To morrow, to day, presently, you shall have the Drum strooke up this afternoon: 'Tis as it were a parcel of their Feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. Why then we shall have a stirring World again: This peace is nothing, but to rust Iron, increase Tailors, and breed Ballad-makers.
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)
So did I, Ile be ſworne: He is ſimply the rareſt man i' th' world. I thinke he is: but a greater ſoldier then he, You wot one. Who my Maſter? Nay, it's no matter for that. Worth ſix on him. Nay not ſo neither: but I take him to be the greater Souldiour. Faith looke you, one cannot tell how to ſay that: for the Defence of a Towne, our Generall is excellent. I, and for an aſſault too. Oh Slaues, I can tell you Newes, News you Raſcals What, what, what? Let's partake. I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as liue be a condemn'd man. Wherefore? Wherefore? Why here's he that was wont to thwacke our Generall, Caius Martius. Why do you ſay, thwacke our Generall? I do not ſay thwacke our Generall, but he was alwayes good enough for him▪ Come we are fellowes and friends: he was euer too hard for him, I haue heard him ſay ſo himſelfe. He was too hard for him directly, to ſay the Troth on't before Corioles, he ſcotcht him, and notcht him like a Carbinado. And hee had bin Cannibally giuen, hee might haue boyld and eaten him too. But more of thy Newes. Why he is ſo made on heere within, as if hee were Son and Heire to Mars, ſet at vpper end o' th' Table: No queſtion askt him by any of the Senators, but they ſtand bald before him. Our Generall himſelfe makes a Miſtris of him, Sanctifies himſelfe with's hand, and turnes vp the white o' th' eye to his Diſcourſe. But the bottome of the Newes is, our Generall is cut i' th' middle, & but one halfe of what he was yeſterday. For the other ha's halfe, by the intreaty and graunt of the whole Table. Hee'l go he ſayes, and ſole the Porter of Rome Gates by th' eares. He will mowe all downe before him, and leaue his paſſage poul'd. And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine. Doo't? he will doo't: for look you ſir, he has as many Friends as Enemies: which Friends ſir as it were, durſt not (looke you ſir) ſhew themſelues (as we terme it) his Friends, whileſt he's in Directitude. Directitude? What's that? But when they ſhall ſee ſir, his Creſt vp againe, and the man in blood, they will out of their Burroughes (like Conies after Raine) and reuell all with him. But when goes this forward: To morrow, to day, preſently, you ſhall haue the Drum ſtrooke vp this afternoone: 'Tis as it were a parcel of their Feaſt, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. Why then wee ſhall haue a ſtirring World againe: This peace is nothing, but to ruſt Iron, encreaſe Taylors, and breed Ballad-makers.