Shakespeare, William / Middleton, Thomas · published 1623 · first performed or written 1606 (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
We have scorched the Snake, not killed it: she'll close, and be herself, whilst our poor Malice Remains in danger of her former Tooth. But let the frame of things dis-ioynt, Both the Worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our Meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible Dreams, That shake us Nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Then on the torture of the Mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncane is in his Grave: After Life's fitfull Fever, he sleeps well, Treason has done his worst: nor Steel, nor Poison, Malice domestic, foreign Levy, nothing, Can touch him further. Come on: Gentle my Lord, sleek o'er your rugged Looks, Be bright and jovial among your Guests to Night. So shall I Love, and so I pray be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Unsafe the while, that we must lave Our Honours in these flattering streams, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are. You must leave this. O, full of Scorpions is my Mind, dear Wife: Thou knowst, that Banquo and his Fleans lives. But in them, Nature's Coppie's not eterne. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable, Then be thou jocund: ere the Bat hath flown His Cloistered flight, ere to black Heccats summons The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung Night's yawning Peal, There shall be done a deed of dreadful note. What's to be done? Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed: Come, feeling Night, Scarf up the tender Eye of pitiful Day, And with thy bloody and invisible Hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great Bond, Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to droop, and drowse, Whiles Night's black Agents to their Prey's do rouse. Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still, Things bade begun, make strong themselves by ill: So prithee go with me. But who did bid thee join with us? Macbeth. He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our Offices, and what we have to do, To the direction just. Then stand with us: The West yet glimmers with some streaks of Day. Now spurs the lated traveler apace, To gain the timely Inn, end near approaches The subject of our Watch. Hark, I hear Horses. Give us a Light there, hoa. Then 'tis he: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Already are i' th' Court. His Horses go about. Almost a mile: but he does usually, So all men do, from hence toth' Palace Gate Make it their Walk. A Light, a Light. 'Tis he. Stand too't. It will be Rain to Night. Let it come down. O, Treachery! Fly good Fleans, fly, fly, fly, Thou may'st revenge. O Slave!
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)
We haue ſcorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it: Shee'le cloſe, and be her ſelfe, whileſt our poore Mallice Remaines in danger of her former Tooth. But let the frame of things diſ-ioynt, Both the Worlds ſuffer, Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and ſleepe In the affliction of theſe terrible Dreames, That ſhake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue ſent to peace, Then on the torture of the Minde to lye In reſtleſſe extaſie. Duncane is in his Graue: After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he ſleepes well, Treaſon ha's done his worſt: nor Steele, nor Poyſon, Mallice domeſtique, forraine Leuie, nothing, Can touch him further. Come on: Gentle my Lord, ſleeke o're your rugged Lookes, Be bright and Iouiall among your Gueſts to Night. So ſhall I Loue, and ſo I pray be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Preſent him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Vnſafe the while, that wee muſt laue Our Honors in theſe flattering ſtreames, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Diſguiſing what they are. You muſt leaue this. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife: Thou know'ſt, that Banquo and his Fleans liues. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne. There's comfort yet, they are aſſaileable, Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne His Cloyſter'd flight, ere to black Heccats ſummons The ſhard-borne Beetle, with his drowſie hums, Hath rung Nights yawning Peale, There ſhall be done a deed of dreadfull note. What's to be done? Be innocent of the knowledge, deareſt Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed: Come, feeling Night, Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day, And with thy bloodie and inuiſible Hand Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond, Which keepes me pale. Light thickens, And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowſe, Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowſe. Thou maruell'ſt at my words: but hold thee ſtill, Things bad begun, make ſtrong themſelues by ill: So prythee goe with me. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs? Macbeth. He needes not our miſtruſt, ſince he deliuers Our Offices, and what we haue to doe, To the direction iuſt. Then ſtand with vs: The Weſt yet glimmers with ſome ſtreakes of Day. Now ſpurres the lated Traueller apace, To gayne the timely Inne, end neere approches The ſubiect of our Watch. Hearke, I heare Horſes. Giue vs a Light there, hoa. Then 'tis hee: The reſt, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i' th' Court. His Horſes goe about. Almoſt a mile: but he does vſually, So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate Make it their Walke. A Light, a Light. 'Tis hee. Stand too't. It will be Rayne to Night. Let it come downe. O, Trecherie! Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye, Thou may'ſt reuenge. O Slaue!