Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T50 Fleets, armies and generals: war by sea typicality 0.85 · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T50: sea, honour, general, soldiers, men, ship, fight, soldier, king, vittori.
But being charged, we will be still by Land, Which as I take't we shall, for his best force Is forth to Man his Galleys. To the Vales, And hold our best advantage. Yet they are not joined: Where yond Pine does stand, I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word strait, how ' ris like to go. Swallows have built In Cleopatra's Sails their nests. The Auguries Say, they know not, they cannot tell, look grimly, And dare not speak their knowledge. Anthony, Is valiant, and dejected, and by starts His fretted Fortunes give him hope and fear Of what he has, and has not. All is lost: This fowl Egyptian hath betrayed me: My Fleet hath yielded to the Foe, and yonder They cast their Caps up, and Carouse together Like Friends long lost. Triple-turned Whore, 'tis thou Hast sold me to this Novice, and my heart Makes only Wars on thee. Bid them all fly: For when I am revenged upon my Charm, I have done all. Bid them all fly, be gone. Oh Sun, thy uprise shall I see no more, Fortune, and Anthony part here, even here Do we shake hands? All come to this? The hearts That pannelled me at heels, to whom I gave Their wishes, do dis-Candie, melt their sweets On blossoming Caesar: And this Pine is barked, That ouertoped them all. Betrayed I am. Oh this false Soul of Egypt! this grave Charm, Whose eye becked forth my Wars, & called them home: Whose Bosom was my Crownet, my chief end, Like a right Gipsy, hath at fast and lose Beguiled me, to the very heart of loss. What Eros, Eros? Ah, thou Spell! Avaunt. Why is my Lord enraged against his Love? Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, And blemish Caesar's Triumph. Let him take thee, And hoist thee up to the shouting Plebeians, Fellow his Chariot, like the greatest spot Of all thy Sex. Most Monsterlike be shown For poorest Diminitives, for Dolts, and let Patiented Octavia, plough thy visage up With her prepared nails. 'Tis well th' art gone, If it be well to live. But better 'twere Thou fellest into my fury, for one death Might have prevented many. Eros, hoa? The shirt of Nessus is upon me, teach me Alcides, thou mine Ancestor, thy rage. Let me lodge Licas on the horns o' th' Moon, And with those hands that grasped the heaviest Club, Subdue my worthiest self: The Witch shall die, To the young Roman Boy she hath sold me, and I fall Under this plot: She dies for't. Eros hoa? Help me my women: Oh he's more mad Than Telamon for his Shield, the Boar of Thessaly Was never so embossed. To ' th' Monument, there lock yourself, And send him word you are dead: The Soul and Body rive not more in parting, Then greatness going off.
seed 43: T47 · seed 44: T45 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But being charg'd, we will be ſtill by Land, Which as I tak't we ſhall, for his beſt force Is forth to Man his Gallies. To the Vales, And hold our beſt aduantage. Yet they are not ioyn'd: Where yon'd Pine does ſtand, I ſhall diſcouer all. Ile bring thee word ſtraight, how 'ris like to go. Swallowes haue built In Cleopatra's Sailes their neſts. The Auguries Say, they know not, they cannot tell, looke grimly▪ And dare not ſpeake their knowledge. Anthony, Is valiant, and deiected, and by ſtarts His fretted Fortunes giue him hope and feare Of what he has, and has not. All is loſt: This fowle Egyptian hath betrayed me: My Fleete hath yeelded to the Foe, and yonder They caſt their Caps vp, and Carowſe together Like Friends long loſt. Triple-turn'd Whore, 'tis thou Haſt ſold me to this Nouice, and my heart Makes onely Warres on thee. Bid them all flye: For when I am reueng'd vpon my Charme, I haue done all. Bid them all flye, be gone. Oh Sunne, thy vpriſe ſhall I ſee no more, Fortune, and Anthony part heere, euen heere Do we ſhake hands? All come to this? The hearts That pannelled me at heeles, to whom I gaue Their wiſhes, do diſ-Candie, melt their ſweets On bloſſoming Caeſar: And this Pine is barkt, That ouer-top'd them all. Betray'd I am. Oh this falſe Soule of Egypt! this graue Charme, Whoſe eye beck'd forth my Wars, & cal'd them home: Whoſe Boſome was my Crownet, my chiefe end, Like a right Gypſie, hath at faſt and looſe Beguil'd me, to the very heart of loſſe. What Eros, Eros? Ah, thou Spell! Auaunt. Why is my Lord enrag'd againſt his Loue? Vaniſh, or I ſhall giue thee thy deſeruing, And blemiſh Caeſars Triumph. Let him take thee, And hoiſt thee vp to the ſhouting Plebeians, Follow his Chariot, like the greateſt ſpot Of all thy Sex. Moſt Monſter-like be ſhewne For poor'ſt Diminitiues, for Dolts, and let Patient Octauia, plough thy viſage vp With her prepared nailes. 'Tis well th' art gone, If it be well to liue. But better 'twere Thou fell'ſt into my furie, for one death Might haue preuented many. Eros, hoa? The ſhirt of Neſſus is vpon me, teach me Alcides, thou mine Anceſtor, thy rage. Let me lodge Licas on the hornes o' th' Moone, And with thoſe hands that graſpt the heauieſt Club, Subdue my worthieſt ſelfe: The Witch ſhall die, To the young Roman Boy ſhe hath ſold me, and I fall Vnder this plot: She dyes for't. Eros hoa? Helpe me my women: Oh hee's more mad Then Telamon for his Shield, the Boare of Theſſaly Was neuer ſo imboſt. To' th' Monument, there locke your ſelfe, And ſend him word you are dead: The Soule and Body riue not more in parting, Then greatneſſe going off.