Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1608 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.80 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
This last old man, Whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Rome, Loved me, above the measure of a Father, Nay godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him: for whose old Love I have (Though I showed sourly to him) once more offered The first Conditions which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace him only, That thought he could do more: A very little I have yielded too. Fresh Embasses, and Suits, Nor from the State, nor private friends hereafter Will I lend ear to. Ha'? what shout is this? Shout within Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not. My wife comes foremost, than the honoured mould Wherein this Trunk was framed, and in her hand The Grandchild to her blood. But out affection, All bond and privilege of Nature break; Let it be Virtuous to be Obstinate. What is that Curt'sie worth? Or those Doves eyes, Which can make God's forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others: my Mother bows, As if Olympus to a Molehill should In supplication Nod: and my young Boy Hath an Aspect of intercession, which Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces Plough Rome, and harrow Italy, I'll never Be such a Gosling to obey instinct: but stand As if a man were Author of himself, & knew no other kin My Lord and Husband. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. The sorrow that delivers us thus changed, Makes you think so. Like a dull Actor now, I have forgot my part, And I am out, even to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh, Forgive my Tyranny: but do not say, For that forgive our Romans. O a kiss Long as my Exile, sweet as my Revenge! Now by the jealous Queen of Heaven, that kiss I carried from thee dear; and my true Lip Hath Virgined it ere since. You Gods, I pray, And the most noble Mother of the world Leave unsaluted: Sink my knee i' th' earth, Of thy deep duty, more impression show Then that of common Sons. Oh stand up blessed! Whilst with no softer Cushion than the Flint I kneel before thee, and unproperly Show duty as mistaken, all this while, Between the Child, and Parent. What's this? your knees to me? To your Corrected Son? Then let the Pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the Stars: Then, let the mutinous winds Strike the proud Cedars 'gainst the fiery Sun: Murdering Impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight work. Thou art my Warrior, I hope to frame thee Do you know this Lady? The Noble Sister of Publicola; The Moon of Rome: Chaste as the Icicle That's curdied by the Frost, from purest Snow, And hangs on Diane's Temple: Dear Valeria.
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)
This laſt old man, Whom with a crack'd heart I haue ſent to Rome, Lou'd me, aboue the meaſure of a Father, Nay godded me indeed. Their lateſt refuge Was to ſend him: for whoſe old Loue I haue (Though I ſhew'd ſowrely to him) once more offer'd The firſt Conditions which they did refuſe, And cannot now accept, to grace him onely, That thought he could do more: A very little I haue yeelded too. Freſh Embaſſes, and Suites, Nor from the State, nor priuate friends heereafter Will I lend eare to. Ha? what ſhout is this? Shout within Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the ſame time 'tis made? I will not. My wife comes formoſt, then the honour'd mould Wherein this Trunke was fram'd, and in her hand The Grandchilde to her blood. But out affection, All bond and priuiledge of Nature breake; Let it be Vertuous to be Obſtinate. What is that Curt'ſie worth? Or thoſe Doues eyes, Which can make Gods forſworne? I melt, and am not Of ſtronger earth then others: my Mother bowes, As if Olympus to a Mole-hill ſhould In ſupplication Nod: and my yong Boy Hath an Aſpect of interceſsion, which Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces Plough Rome, and harrow Italy, Ile neuer Be ſuch a Goſling to obey inſtinct: but ſtand As if a man were Author of himſelf, & knew no other kin My Lord and Husband. Theſe eyes are not the ſame I wore in Rome. The ſorrow that deliuers vs thus chang'd, Makes you thinke ſo. Like a dull Actor now, I haue forgot my part, And I am out, euen to a full Diſgrace. Beſt of my Fleſh, Forgiue my Tyranny: but do not ſay, For that forgiue our Romanes. O a kiſſe Long as my Exile, ſweet as my Reuenge! Now by the iealous Queene of Heauen, that kiſſe I carried from thee deare; and my true Lippe Hath Virgin'd it ere ſince. You Gods, I pray, And the moſt noble Mother of the world Leaue vnſaluted: Sinke my knee i' th' earth, Of thy deepe duty, more impreſsion ſhew Then that of common Sonnes. Oh ſtand vp bleſt! Whil'ſt with no ſofter Cuſhion then the Flint I kneele before thee, and vnproperly Shew duty as miſtaken, all this while, Betweene the Childe, and Parent. What's this? your knees to me? To your Corrected Sonne? Then let the Pibbles on the hungry beach Fillop the Starres: Then, let the mutinous windes Strike the proud Cedars 'gainſt the fiery Sun: Murd'ring Impoſſibility, to make What cannot be, ſlight worke. Thou art my Warriour, I hope to frame thee Do you know this Lady? The Noble Siſter of Publicola; The Moone of Rome: Chaſte as the Iſicle That's curdied by the Froſt, from pureſt Snow, And hangs on Dians Temple: Deere Ʋaleria.