Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T2 Roman politics: senate, consuls and civi typicality 0.67 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Then with your will go on: we'll along Ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And Nature must obey Necessity, Which we will niggard with a little rest: There is no more to say. No more, good night, Early to morrow will we rise, and hence. Lucius my Gown: farewell good Messala, Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. O my dear Brother: This was an ill beginning of the night: Never come such division between our souls: Let it not Brutus. Every thing is well. Good night my Lord. Good night good Brother. Good night Lord Brutus. Farewell every one. Give me the Gown. Where is thy Instrument? here in the Tent. What, thou speakest drowsily? Poor knave I blame thee not, thou art ore-watched. Call Claudio, and some other of my men, I'll have them sleep on Cushions in my Tent. Varrus, and Claudio. Calls my Lord? I pray you sirs, lie in my Tent and sleep, It may be I shall raise you by and by On business to my Brother Cassius. So please you, we will stand, And watch your pleasure. I will it not have it so: Lie down good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look Lucius, here's the book I sought for so: I put it in the pocket of my Gown. I was sure your Lordship did not give it me. Bear with me good Boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy Instrument a strain or two. I my Lord, an't please you. It does my Boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. It is my duty Sir. I should not urge thy duty past thy might, I know young bloods look for a time of rest. I have slept my Lord already. It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again: I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee. This is a sleepy Tune: O murderous slumbler! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace upon my Boy, That plays thee Music? Gentle knave good night: I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy Instrument, I'll take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the Leaf turned down Where I left reading? here it is I think. How ill this Taper burns. Ha! Who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition. It comes upon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou some God, some Angel, or some Devil, That makest my blood cold, and my hair to stare? Speak to me, what thou art. Thy evil Spirit Brutus? Why comest thou? To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
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)
Then with your will go on: wee'l along Our ſelues, and meet them at Philippi. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke, And Nature muſt obey Neceſſitie, Which we will niggard with a little reſt: There is no more to ſay. No more, good night, Early to morrow will we riſe, and hence. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Meſſala, Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Caſſius, Good night, and good repoſe. O my deere Brother: This was an ill beginning of the night: Neuer come ſuch diuiſion 'tweene our ſoules: Let it not Brutus. Euery thing is well. Good night my Lord. Good night good Brother. Good night Lord Brutus. Farwell euery one. Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Inſtrument? Heere in the Tent. What, thou ſpeak'ſt drowſily? Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd. Call Claudio, and ſome other of my men, Ile haue them ſleepe on Cuſhions in my Tent. Varrus, and Claudio. Cals my Lord? I pray you ſirs, lye in my Tent and ſleepe, It may be I ſhall raiſe you by and by On buſineſſe to my Brother Caſſius. So pleaſe you, we will ſtand, And watch your pleaſure. I will it not haue it ſo: Lye downe good ſirs, It may be I ſhall otherwiſe bethinke me. Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I ſought for ſo: I put it in the pocket of my Gowne. I was ſure your Lordſhip did not giue it me. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull. Canſt thou hold vp thy heauie eyes a-while, And touch thy Inſtrument a ſtraine or two. I my Lord, an't pleaſe you. It does my Boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. It is my duty Sir. I ſhould not vrge thy duty paſt thy might, I know yong bloods looke for a time of reſt. I haue ſlept my Lord already. It was well done, and thou ſhalt ſleepe againe: I will not hold thee long. If I do liue, I will be good to thee. This is a ſleepy Tune: O Murd'rous ſlumbler! Layeſt thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy, That playes thee Muſicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee ſo much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'ſt nod, thou break'ſt thy Inſtrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me ſee, let me ſee; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke. How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the weakeneſſe of mine eyes That ſhapes this monſtrous Apparition. It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou ſome God, ſome Angell, or ſome Diuell, That mak'ſt my blood cold, and my haire to ſtare? Speake to me, what thou art. Thy euill Spirit Brutus? Why com'ſt thou? To tell thee thou ſhalt ſee me at Philippi.