Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 513 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
I, in the Catalogue ye go for men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mongrels, Spaniels, Curs, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipped All by the Name of Dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The Housekeeper, the Hunter, every one According to the gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him closed: whereby he does receive Particular addition from the Bill, That writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i' th' worst rank of Manhood, say't, And I will put that Business in your Bosoms, Whose execution takes your Enemy off, Grapples you to the heart; and love of us, Who wear our Health but sickly in his Life, Which in his Death were perfect. I am one, my Liege, Whom the vile Blows and Buffets of the World Hath so incensed, that I am reckless what I do, To spite the World. And I another, So weary with Disasters, tugged with Fortune, That I would set my Life on any Chance, To mend it, or be rid on't. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemy. True, my Lord. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That every minute of his being, thrusts Against my nearest of Life: and though I could With bare-faced power sweep him from my sight, And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his, and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall, Who I myself struck down: and thence it is, That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the Business from the common Eye, For sundry weighty Reasons. We shall, my Lord, Perform what you command us. Though our Lives— Your Spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at most, I will advise you where to plant yourselves, Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o' th' time, The moment on't, for't must be done to Night, And something from the Palace: always thought, That I require a clearness; and with him, To leave no Rubs nor Botches in the Work: Fleans, his Son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me, Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour: resolve yourselves apart, I'll come to you anon. We are resolved, my Lord. I'll call upon you strait: abide within, It is concluded: Banquo, thy Souls flight, If it find Heaven, must find it out to Night. Is Banquo gone from Court? I, Madame, but returns again to Night. Say to the King, I would attend his leisure, For a few words. Madame, I will. Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy, Then by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. How now, my Lord, why do you keep alone? Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making, Using those Thoughts, which should indeed have died With them they think on: things without all remedy Should be without regard: what's done, is done.
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)
I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file Diſtinguiſhes the ſwift, the ſlow, the ſubtle, The Houſe-keeper, the Hunter, euery one According to the gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue Particular addition▪ from the Bill, That writes them all alike: and ſo of men. Now, if you haue a ſtation in the file, Not i' th' worſt ranke of Manhood▪ ſay't, And I will put that Buſineſſe in your Boſomes, Whoſe execution takes your Enemie off, Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs, Who weare our Health but ſickly in his Life, Which in his Death were perfect. I am one, my Liege, Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World Hath ſo incens'd, that I am reckleſſe what I doe, To ſpight the World. And I another, So wearie with Diſaſters, tugg'd with Fortune, That I would ſet my Life on any Chance, To mend it, or be rid on't. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie. True, my Lord. So is he mine: and in ſuch bloody diſtance, That euery minute of his being, thruſts Againſt my neer'ſt of Life: and though I could With bare-fac'd power ſweepe him from my ſight, And bid my will auouch it; yet I muſt not, For certaine friends that are both his, and mine, Whoſe loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall, Who I my ſelfe ſtruck downe: and thence it is, That I to your aſſiſtance doe make loue, Masking the Buſineſſe from the common Eye, For ſundry weightie Reaſons. We ſhall, my Lord, Performe what you command vs. Though our Liues— Your Spirits ſhine through you. Within this houre, at moſt, I will aduiſe you where to plant your ſelues, Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o' th' time, The moment on't, for't muſt be done to Night, And ſomething from the Pallace: alwayes thought, That I require a cleareneſſe; and with him, To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke: Fleans, his Sonne, that keepes him companie, Whoſe abſence is no leſſe materiall to me, Then is his Fathers, muſt embrace the fate Of that darke houre: reſolue your ſelues apart, Ile come to you anon. We are reſolu'd, my Lord. Ile call vpon you ſtraight: abide within, It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight, If it finde Heauen, muſt finde it out to Night. Is Banquo gone from Court? I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night. Say to the King, I would attend his leyſure, For a few words. Madame, I will. Nought's had, all's ſpent, Where our deſire is got without content: 'Tis ſafer, to be that which we deſtroy, Then by deſtruction dwell in doubtfull ioy. How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone? Of ſorryeſt Fancies your Companions making, Vſing thoſe Thoughts, which ſhould indeed haue dy'd With them they thinke on: things without all remedie Should be without regard: what's done, is done.