Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.75 · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Let me have War say I, it exceeds peace as far as day does night: It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargy, mulled, deaf, sleep, insensible, a getter of more bastard. Children, than wars a destroyer of men. 'Tis so, and as wars in some sort may be said to be a Ravishen, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of Cuckolds. I, and it makes men hate one another. Reason, because they then less need one another: The Wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volcians. They are rising, they are rising. In, in, in, in. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him, His remedies are tame, the present peace, And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry. here do we make his Friends Blush, that the world goes well: who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, then see Our Tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their Functions friendly. We stood too't in good time. Is this Menenius? 'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown most kind of late: Hail Sir. Hail to you both. Your Coriolanus is not much mist, but with his Friends: the Commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, were he more angry at it. All's well, and might have been much better, if he could have temporised. Where is he, hear you? Nay I hear nothing: His Mother and his wife, hear nothing from him. The Gods preserve you both. Gooden our Neighbours. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. Live, and thrive. Farewell kind Neighhours: We wished Coriolanus had loved you as we did. Now the Gods keep you. Farewell, farewell. This is a happier and more comely time, Then when these Fellows ran about the streets, Crying Confusion. Caius Martius' was A worthy Officer i' th' War, but Insolent, O'ercome with Pride, Ambitious, past all thinking Self-loving. And affecting one sole Throne, without assistance I think not so. We should by this, to all our Lamention, If he had gone forth Consul, found it so. The Gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still, without him. Worthy Tribunes, There is a Slave whom we have put in prison, Reports the Volces with two several Powers Are entered in the Roman Territories, And with the deepest malice of the War, Destroy, what lies before 'em. 'Tis Auffidius, Who hearing of our Martius Banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world Which were In-shelled, when Martius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out. Come, what talk you of Martius. Go see this Rumourer whipped, it cannot be, The Volces dare break with us.
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)
Let me haue Warre ſay I, it exceeds peace as farre as day do's night: It's ſprightly walking, audible, and full of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargie, mull'd, deafe, ſleepe, inſenſible, a getter of more baſtard. Children, then warres a deſtroyer of men. 'Tis ſo, and as warres in ſome ſort may be ſaide to be a Rauiſhen, ſo it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of Cuckolds. I, and it makes men hate one another. Reaſon, becauſe they then leſſe neede one another: The Warres for my money. I hope to ſee Romanes as cheape as Volcians. They are riſing, they are riſing. In, in, in, in. We heare not of him, neither need we fear him, His remedies are tame, the preſent peace, And quietneſſe of the people, which before Were in wilde hurry. Heere do we make his Friend Bluſh, that the world goes well: who rather had, Though they themſelues did ſuffer by't, behold Diſſentious numbers peſtring ſtreets, then ſee Our Tradeſmen ſinging in their ſhops, and going About their Functions friendly. We ſtood too't in good time. Is this Menenius? 'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown moſt kind of late: Haile Sir. Haile to you both. Your Coriolanus is not much miſt, but with his Friends: the Commonwealth doth ſtand, and ſo would do, were he more angry at it. All's well, and might haue bene much better, if he could haue temporiz'd. Where is he, heare you? Nay I heare nothing: His Mother and his wife, heare nothing from him. The Gods preſerue you both. Gooden our Neighbours. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all. Our ſelues, our wiues, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. Liue, and thriue. Farewell kinde Neighhours: We wiſht Coriolanus had lou'd you as we did. Now the Gods keepe you. Farewell, farewell. This is a happier and more comely time, Then when theſe Fellowes ran about the ſtreets, Crying Confuſion. Caius Martius was A worthy Officer i' th' Warre, but Inſolent, O'recome with Pride, Ambitious, paſt all thinking Selfe-louing. And affecting one ſole Throne, without aſſiſtāce I thinke not ſo. We ſhould by this, to all our Lamention, If he had gone forth Conſull, found it ſo. The Gods haue well preuented it, and Rome Sits ſafe and ſtill, without him. Worthy Tribunes, There is a Slaue whom we haue put in priſon, Reports the Volces with two ſeuerall Powers Are entred in the Roman Territories, And with the deepeſt malice of the Warre, Deſtroy, what lies before 'em. 'Tis Auffidius, Who hearing of our Martius Baniſhment, Thruſts forth his hornes againe into the world Which were In-ſhell'd, when Martius ſtood for Rome, And durſt not once peepe out. Come, what talke you of Martius. Go ſee this Rumorer whipt, it cannot be, The Volces dare breake with vs.