Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses · 518 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done: Yet have I fierce Affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. Oh Charmion: Where thinkest thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? Or is he on his Horse? Oh happy horse to bear the weight of Anthony! Do bravely Horse, for wotest thou whom thou movest, The demi Atlas of this Earth, the Arm And Burganet of men. he's speaking now, Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nile, (For so he calls me:) Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time. Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou was't here above the ground, I was A morsel for a Monarch: and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow, There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye With looking on his life. Sovereign of Egypt, hail. How much unlike art thou Mark Anthony? Yet coming from him, that great Medicine hath With his Tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Anthony? Last thing he did (dear Queen) He kissed the last of many doubled kisses This Orient Pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. Mine ear must pluck it thence. Good Friend, quoth he: Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an Oyster: at whose foot To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent Throne, with Kingdoms. All the East, (Say thou) shall call her Mistress. So he nodded, And soberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steed, Who neighed so high, that what I would have spoke, Was beastly dumb by him. What was he sad, or merry? Like to the time o' th' year, between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. Oh well divided disposition: Note him, Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him. He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his. He was not merry, Which seemed to tell them, his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy, but between both. Oh heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad, or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man's else. Mettest thou my Posts? I Madam, twenty several Messengers. Why do you send so thick? Who's borne that day, when I forget to send to Anthony, shall dye a Beggar. Ink and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, ever love Caesar so? Oh that brave Caesar! Be choked with such another Emphasis, Say the brave Anthony. The valiant Caesar. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, If thou with Caesar Parago nagaine: My man of men. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. My Salad days, When I was green in judgement, cold in blood, To say, as I said then. But come, away, Get me Ink and Paper, he shall have every day a several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.
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 in deed Madam, for I can do nothing But what in deede is honeſt to be done: Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke What Venus did with Mars. Oh Charmion: Where think'ſt thou he is now? Stands he, or ſits he? Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horſe? Oh happy horſe to beare the weight of Anthony! Do brauely Horſe, for wot'ſt thou whom thou moou'ſt, The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme And Burganet of men. Hee's ſpeaking now, Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle▪ (For ſo he cals me:) Now I feede my ſelfe With moſt delicious poyſon. Thinke on me That am with Phoebus amorous pinches blacke, And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Caeſar, When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was A morſell for a Monarke: and great Pompey Would ſtand and make his eyes grow in my brow, There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye With looking on his life. Soueraigne of Egypt, haile. How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony? Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hath With his Tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie? Laſt thing he did (deere Quene) He kiſt the laſt of many doubled kiſſes This Orient Pearle. His ſpeech ſtickes in my heart. Mine eare muſt plucke it thence. Good Friend, quoth he: Say the firme Roman to great Egypt ſends This treaſure of an Oyſter: at whoſe foote To mend the petty preſent, I will peece Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the Eaſt, (Say thou) ſhall call her Miſtris. So he nodded, And ſoberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede, Who neigh'd ſo hye, that what I would haue ſpoke, Was beaſtly dumbe by him. What was he ſad, or merry? Like to the time o' th' yeare, between ye extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor ſad▪ nor merrie. Oh well diuided diſpoſition: Note him, Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him. He was not ſad, for he would ſhine on thoſe That make their lookes by his. He was not merrie, Which ſeem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both. Oh heauenly mingle! Bee'ſt thou ſad, or merrie, The violence of either thee becomes, So do's it no mans elſe. Met'ſt thou my Poſts? I Madam, twenty ſeuerall Meſſengers. Why do you ſend ſo thicke? Who's borne that day, when I forget to ſend to Anthonie, ſhall dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, euer loue Caeſar ſo? Oh that braue Caeſar! Be choak'd with ſuch another Emphaſis, Say the braue Anthony. The valiant Caeſar. By Iſis, I will giue thee bloody teeth, If thou with Caeſar Parago nagaine: My man of men. By your moſt gracious pardon, I ſing but after you. My Sallad dayes, When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood, To ſay, as I ſaide then. But come, away, Get me Inke and Paper, he ſhall haue euery day a ſeuerall greeting, or Ile vnpeople Egypt.