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 0.79 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T2: rome, caesar, senate, sulla, roman, consul, brutus, romans, men, marius.
Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, far thee well: It is impossible, that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends I own more tears To this dead man, than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius: I shall find time. Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body, His Funerals shall not be in our Camp, Lest it discomfort us. Lucillius come, And come young Cato, let us to the Field, Labio and Flavio set our Battles on: 'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night, We shall try Fortune in a second fight. Yet Countrymen: O yet, hold up your heads. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the Field. I am the Son of Marcus Cato, ho. A Foe to Tyrants, and my Country's Friend. I am the Son of Marcus Cato, ho. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus', I, Brutus my Country's Friend: Know me for Brutus. O young and Noble Cato, art thou down? Why now thou diest, as bravely as Titinius, And may'st be honoured, being Cato's Son. Yield, or thou diest. Only I yield to dye: There is so much, that thou wilt kill me strait: Kill Brutus, and be honoured in his death. We must not: a Noble Prisoner. Room ho: tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. I'll tell thee news. here comes the General, Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en my Lord. Where is he? Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough: I dare assure thee, that no Enemy Shall ever take alive the Noble Brutus: The Gods defend him from so great a shame, When you do find him, or alive, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himself. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you, A prize no less in worth; keep this man safe, Give him all kindness. I had rather have Such men my Friends, than Enemies. Go on, And see where Brutus be alive or dead, And bring us word, unto Octauius Tent: How every thing is chanced. Come poor remains of friends, rest on this Rock. Statillius showed the Torchlight, but my Lord He came not back: he is or ta'en, or slain. Sat thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word, It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World. Peace then, no words. I'll rather kill myself. Hark thee, Dardanius. Shall I do such a deed? O Dardanius. O Clitus. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? To kill him, Clitus: look he meditates. Now is that Noble Vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word. What says my Lord? Why this, Volumnius: The Ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me Two several times by Night: at Sardis, once; And this last Night, here in Philippi fields: I know my hour is come.
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)
Are yet two Romans liuing ſuch as theſe? The laſt of all the Romans, far thee well: It is impoſſible, that euer Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares To this dead man, then you ſhall ſee me pay. I ſhall finde time, Caſsius: I ſhall finde time. Come therefore, and to Tharſus ſend his body, His Funerals ſhall not be in our Campe, Leaſt it diſcomfort vs. Lucillius come, And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field, Labio and Flauio ſet our Battailes on: 'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night, We ſhall try Fortune in a ſecond fight. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads. What Baſtard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaime my name about the Field. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I, Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe? Why now thou dyeſt, as brauely as Titinius, And may'ſt be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne. Yeeld, or thou dyeſt. Onely I yeeld to dye: There is ſo much, that thou wilt kill me ſtraight: Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. We muſt not: a Noble Priſoner. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall, Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord. Where is hee? Safe Antony, Brutus is ſafe enough: I dare aſſure thee, that no Enemy Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus: The Gods defend him from ſo great a ſhame, When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himſelfe. This is not Brutus friend, but I aſſure you, A prize no leſſe in worth; keepe this man ſafe, Giue him all kindneſſe. I had rather haue Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on, And ſee where Brutus be aliue or dead, And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent: How euery thing is chanc'd. Come poore remaines of friends, reſt on this Rocke. Statillius ſhew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord He came not backe: he is or tane, or ſlaine. Sit thee downe, Clitus: ſlaying is the word, It is a deed in faſhion. Hearke thee, Clitus. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World. Peace then, no words. Ile rather kill my ſelfe. Hearke thee, Dardanius. Shall I doe ſuch a deed? O Dardanius. O Clitus. What ill requeſt did Brutus make to thee? To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates. Now is that Noble Veſſell full of griefe, That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes. Come hither, good Ʋolumnius, liſt a word. What ſayes my Lord? Why this, Volumnius: The Ghoſt of Caeſar hath appear'd to me Two ſeuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once; And this laſt Night, here in Philippi fields: I know my houre is come.