Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 473 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Is Brutus sick? And is it Physical To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours Of the dank Morning? What, is Brutus sick? And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the Night? And tempt the Rheumy, and unpurged Air, To add unto hit sickness? No my Brutus, You have some sick Offence within your mind, Which by the Right and Virtue of my place I ought to know of: And upon my knees, I charm you, by my once commended Beauty, By all your vows of Love, and that great Vow Which did incorporate and make us one, That you unfold to me, yourself; your half Why you are heavy: and what men to night Have had resort to you: for here have been Some six or seven, who did hide their faces Even from darkness. Kneel not gentle Portia. I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. Within though Bond of Marriage, tell me Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets That appertain to you? Am I yourself, But as it were in sort, or limitation? To keep with you at Meals, comfort your Bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the Suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus' Harlot, not his Wife. You are my true and honourable Wife, As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. If this were true, then should I know this secret. I grant I am a Woman; but withal, A Woman that Lord Brutus took to Wife: I grant I am a Woman; but withal, A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter. Think you, I am no stronger than my Sex Being so Fathered, and so Husbanded? Tell me your Counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I have made strong proof of my Constancy, Giving myself a voluntary wound here, in the Thigh: Can I bear that with patience, And not my Husband's Secrets? O ye Gods! Render me worthy of this Noble Wife. Hark, hark, one knocks: Portia go in a while, And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my Heart. All my engagements, I will construe to thee, All the Charractery of my sad brows: Leave me with haste. Lucius, who's that knocks. here is a sick man that would speak with you. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spoke of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how? Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. O what a time have you chose out brave Caius To wear a Kerchief? Would you were not sick. I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand Any exploit worthy the name of Honor. Such an exploit have I in hand Ligarius, Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.
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)
Is Brutus ſicke? And is it Phyſicall To walke vnbraced, and ſucke vp the humours Of the danke Morning? What, is Brutus ſicke? And will he ſteale out of his wholſome bed To dare the vile contagion of the Night? And tempt the Rhewmy, and vnpurged Ayre, To adde vnto hit ſickneſſe? No my Brutus, You haue ſome ſicke Offence within your minde, Which by the Right and Vertue of my place I ought to know of: And vpon my knees, I charme you, by my once commended Beauty, By all your vowes of Loue, and that great Vow Which did incorporate and make vs one, That you vnfold to me, your ſelfe; your halfe Why you are heauy: and what men to night Haue had reſort to you: for heere haue beene Some ſixe or ſeuen, who did hide their faces Euen from darkneſſe. Kneele not gentle Portia. I ſhould not neede, if you were gentle Brutus. Within tho Bond of Marriage, tell me Brutus, Is it excepted, I ſhould know no Secrets That appertaine to you? Am I your Selfe, But as it were in ſort, or limitation? To keepe with you at Meales, comfort your Bed, And talke to you ſometimes? Dwell I but in the Suburbs Of your good pleaſure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus Harlot, not his Wife. You are my true and honourable Wife, As deere to me, as are the ruddy droppes That viſit my ſad heart. If this were true, then ſhould I know this ſecret. I graunt I am a Woman; but withall, A Woman that Lord Brutus tooke to Wife: I graunt I am a Woman; but withall, A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter. Thinke you, I am no ſtronger then my Sex Being ſo Father'd, and ſo Husbanded? Tell me your Counſels, I will not diſcloſe 'em: I haue made ſtrong proofe of my Conſtancie, Giuing my ſelfe a voluntary wound Heere, in the Thigh: Can I beare that with patience, And not my Husbands Secrets? O ye Gods! Render me worthy of this Noble Wife. Harke, harke, one knockes: Portia go in a while, And by and by thy boſome ſhall partake The ſecrets of my Heart. All my engagements, I will conſtrue to thee, All the Charractery of my ſad browes: Leaue me with haſt. Lucius, who's that knockes. Heere is a ſicke man that would ſpeak with you. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus ſpake of. Boy, ſtand aſide. Caius Ligarius, how? Vouchſafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. O what a time haue you choſe out braue Caius To weare a Kerchiefe? Would you were not ſicke. I am not ſicke, if Brutus haue in hand Any exploit worthy the name of Honor. Such an exploit haue I in hand Ligarius, Had you a healthfull eare to heare of it.