Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T18 Rebels, barons and the king's wars at ho · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T18: king, lord, wallace, earl, edward, england, scotland, rebels, bruce, english.
Not so happy, yet much happier. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all hail Macbeth, and Banquo. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more: By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis, But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor lives A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King, Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence You own this strange Intelligence, or why Upon this blasted Heath you stop our way With such Prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water has, And these are of them: whither are they vanished? Into the Air: and what seemed corporal, Melted, as breath into the Wind. Would they had stayed. Were such things here, as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane Root, That takes the Reason Prisoner? Your Children shall be Kings. You shall be King. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? Toth' selfsame tune and words: who's here? The King hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success: and when he reads Thy personal Venture in the Rebels fight, His Wonders and his Praises do contend, Which should be thine, or his: silenced with that, In viewing o'er the rest o' th' selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan Ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale Can post with post, and every one did bear Thy praises in his Kingdom's great defence, And poured them down before him. We are sent, To give thee from our Royal Master thanks, Only to harrold thee into his sight, Not pay thee. And for an earnest of a greater Honour, He bade me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail most worthy Thane, For it is thine. What, can the Devil speak true? The Thane of Cawdor lives: Why do you dress me in borrowed Robes? Who was the Thane, lives yet, But under heavy judgement bears that Life, Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined with those of Norway, Or did line the Rebel with hidden help, And vantage; or that with both he laboured In his Country's wrack, I know not: But Treasons Capital, confessed, and proved, Have overthrown him. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behind. Thanks for your pains. Do you not hope your Children shall be Kings, When those that gave the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promised no less to them. That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you unto the Crown, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The Instruments of Darkness tell us Truths, Win us with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you.
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)
Not ſo happy, yet much happyer. Thou ſhalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more: By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis, But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues A proſperous Gentleman: And to be King, Stands not within the proſpect of beleefe, No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this ſtrange Intelligence, or why Vpon this blaſted Heath you ſtop our way With ſuch Prophetique greeting? Speake, I charge you. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's, And theſe are of them: whither are they vaniſh'd? Into the Ayre: and what ſeem'd corporall, Melted, as breath into the Winde. Would they had ſtay'd. Were ſuch things here, as we doe ſpeake about? Or haue we eaten on the inſane Root, That takes the Reaſon Priſoner? Your Children ſhall be Kings. You ſhall be King. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not ſo? Toth' ſelfe-ſame tune▪ and words: who's here? The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth▪ The newes of thy ſucceſſe: and when he reades Thy perſonall Venture in the Rebels fight, His Wonders and his Prayſes doe contend, Which ſhould be thine, or his: ſilenc'd with that, In viewing o're the reſt o' th' ſelfe-ſame day, He findes thee in the ſtout Norweyan Rankes▪ Nothing afeard of what thy ſelfe didſt make Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale Can poſt with poſt, and euery one did beare Thy prayſes in his Kingdomes great defence, And powr'd them downe before him. Wee are ſent, To giue thee from our Royall Maſter thanks, Onely to harrold thee into his ſight, Not pay thee▪ And for an earneſt of a greater Honor, He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, haile moſt worthy Thane, For it is thine. What, can the Deuill ſpeake true? The Thane of Cawdor liues: Why doe you dreſſe me in borrowed Robes? Who was the Thane, liues yet, But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life, Which he deſerues to looſe. Whether he was combin'd with thoſe of Norway, Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe, And vantage; or that with both he labour'd In his Countreyes wracke, I know not: But Treaſons Capitall, confeſs'd, and prou'd, Haue ouerthrowne him. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor: The greateſt is behinde. Thankes for your paines. Doe you not hope your Children ſhall be Kings, When thoſe that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no leſſe to them. That truſted home, Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne, Beſides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis ſtrange: And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme, The Inſtruments of Darkneſſe tell vs Truths, Winne vs with honeſt Trifles, to betray's In deepeſt conſequence. Couſins, a word, I pray you.