Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-c.1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 478 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
You undergo too strict a Paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair: Your words have took such pains, as if they laboured To bring Manslaughter into form, and set Quarrelling Upon the head of Valour; which indeed Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions were newly borne. he's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, And make his Wrongs, his Out-sider, To wear them like his Raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If Wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for iii. My Lord. You cannot make gross sins look clear, To revenge is no Valour, but to bear. My Lords, then under favour, pardon me, If I speak like a Captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to Battle, And not endure all threats? Sleep upon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such Valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant That stay at home, if Bearing carry it: And the Ass, more Captain than the Lion? The fellow loaden with Irons, wiser than the judge? If Wisdom be in suffering, Oh my Lords, As you are great, be pitifully Good, Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most just. To be in Anger, is impiety: But who is Man, that is not Angry. Weigh but the Crime with this. You breath in vain. In vain? His service done at Lacedaemon, and Byzantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life. What's that? Why say my Lords has done fair service, And slain in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he bear himself In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds? He has made too much plenty with him: He's a sworn Riotor, he has a sin That often drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no Foes, that were enough To overcome him. In that Beastly fury, He has been known to commit outrages, And cherish Factions. 'Tis inferred to us, His days are foul, and his drink dangerous. He dies. Hard fate: he might have died in war. My Lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arm might purchase his own time, And be in debt to none: yet more to move you, Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both. And for I know, your reverend Ages love Security, I'll pawn my Victories, all my Honour to you Upon his good returns. If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the War receiueed in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and War is nothing more.
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)
You vndergo too ſtrict a Paradox, Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire: Your words haue tooke ſuch paines, as if they labour'd To bring Man-ſlaughter into forme, and ſet Quarrelling Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede Is Valour miſ-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions were newly borne. Hee's truly Valiant, that can wiſely ſuffer The worſt that man can breath, And make his Wrongs, his Out-ſider, To weare them like his Rayment, careleſſely, And ne're preferre his iniuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill. My Lord. You cannot make groſſe ſinnes looke cleare, To reuenge is no Valour, but to beare. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me, If I ſpeake like a Captaine. Why do fond men expoſe themſelues to Battell, And not endure all threats? Sleepe vpon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant That ſtay at home, if Bearing carry it: And the Aſſe, more Captaine then the Lyon? The fellow loaden with Irons, wiſer then the Iudge? If Wiſedome be in ſuffering, Oh my Lords, As you are great, be pittifully Good, Who cannot condemne raſhneſſe in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is ſinnes extreameſt Guſt, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis moſt iuſt. To be in Anger, is impietie: But who is Man, that is not Angrie. Weigh but the Crime with this. You breath in vaine. In vaine? His ſeruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium, Were a ſufficient briber for his life. What's that? Why ſay my Lords ha's done faire ſeruice, And ſlaine in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he beare himſelfe In the laſt Conflict, and made plenteous wounds? He has made too much plenty with him: He's a ſworne Riotor, he has a ſinne That often drownes him, and takes his valour priſoner. If there were no Foes, that were enough To ouercome him. In that Beaſtly furie, He has bin knowne to commit outrages, And cherriſh Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs, His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous. He dyes. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre. My Lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arme might purchaſe his owne time, And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you, Take my deſerts to his, and ioyne 'em both. And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security, Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you Vpon his good returnes. If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is ſtrict, and Warre is nothing more.