Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonour, that the Gods Detest my baseness. I, that with my Sword, Quartered the World, and o'er green Neptune's back With Ships, made Cities; condemn myself, to lack The Courage of a Woman, less Noble mind Than she which by her death, our Caesar tells I am Conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn Eros, That when the exigent should come, which now Is come indeed: When I should see behind me Th' inevitable prosecution of disgrace and horror, That on my command, thou then wouldst kill me. Do't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me, 'Tis Caesar thou defeatest. Put colour in thy Cheek. The Gods withhold me, Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts, (Though Enemy) lost aim, and could not. Eros, Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome, and see Thy Master thus with pleacht Arms, bending down His corrigible neck, his face subdued To penetrative shame; whilst the wheeled seat Of Fortunate Caesar drawn before him, branded His Baseness that ensued. I would not see't. Come then: for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest Sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy Country. Oh sir, pardon me. When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent Services are all But accidents vnpurposed. Draw, and come. Turn from me then that Noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. Lo thee. My sword is drawn. Then let it do at once The thing why thou hast drawn it. My dear Master, My Captain, and my Emperor. Let me say Before I strike this bloody stroke, Farewell. 'Tis said man, and farewell. Farewell great Chief. Shall I strike now? Now Eros. Why there then: Thus I do escape the sorrow of Anthony's death. Thrice-Nobler than myself, Thou teachest me: Oh valiant Eros, what I should, and thou couldst not, my Queen and Eros Have by their brave instruction got upon me A Nobleness in Record. But I will be A Bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a Lover's bed. Come then, and Eros, Thy Master dies thy Scholar; to do thus I learned of thee. How, not dead? Not dead? The Guard, how? Oh dispatch me. What's the noise? I have done my work ill Friends: Oh make an end of what I have begun. The Star is fall'n. And time is at his Period. Alas, and woe. Let him that loves me, strike me dead. Not I Nor I. Nor any one. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers sly This sword but shown to Caesar with this tidings, Shall enter me with him. Where's Anthony? There Diomedes there. Lives he: wilt thou not answer man? Art thou there Diomedes? Draw thy sword, and give me, sufficing strokes for death. Most absolute Lord: My Mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Since Cleopatra dyed, I haue liu'd in ſuch diſhonour, that the Gods Deteſt my baſeneſſe. I, that with my Sword, Quarter'd the World, and o're greene Neptunes backe With Ships, made Cities; condemne my ſelfe, to lacke The Courage of a Woman, leſſe Noble minde Then ſhe which by her death, our Caeſar telles I am Conqueror of my ſelfe. Thou art ſworne Eros, That when the exigent ſhould come, which now Is come indeed: When I ſhould ſee behinde me Th' ineuitable proſecution of diſgrace and horror, That on my command, thou then would'ſt kill me. Doo't, the time is come: Thou ſtrik'ſt not me, 'Tis Caeſar thou defeat'ſt. Put colour in thy Cheeke. The Gods with-hold me, Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts, (Though Enemy) loſt ayme, and could not. Eros, Would'ſt thou be window'd in great Rome, and ſee Thy Maſter thus with pleacht Armes, bending downe His corrigible necke, his face ſubdu'de To penetratiue ſhame; whil'ſt the wheel'd ſeate Of Fortunate Caeſar drawne before him, branded His Baſeneſſe that enſued. I would not ſee't. Come then: for with a wound I muſt be cur'd. Draw that thy honeſt Sword, which thou haſt worne Moſt vſefull for thy Country. Oh ſir, pardon me. When I did make thee free, ſwor'ſt yu not then To do this when I bad thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent Seruices are all But accidents vnpurpos'd. Draw, and come. Turne from me then that Noble countenance, Wherein the worſhip of the whole world lyes. Loe thee. My ſword is drawne. Then let it do at once The thing why thou haſt drawne it. My deere Maſter, My Captaine, and my Emperor. Let me ſay Before I ſtrike this bloody ſtroke, Farwell. 'Tis ſaid man, and farewell. Farewell great Chiefe. Shall I ſtrike now? Now Eros. Why there then: Thus I do eſcape the ſorrow of Anthonies death. Thrice-Nobler then my ſelfe, Thou teacheſt me: Oh valiant Eros, what I ſhould, and thou could'ſt not, my Queene and Eros Haue by their braue inſtruction got vpon me A Nobleneſſe in Record. But I will bee A Bride-groome in my death, and run intoo't As to a Louers bed. Come then, and Eros, Thy Maſter dies thy Scholler; to do thus I learnt of thee. How, not dead? Not dead? The Guard, how? Oh diſpatch me. What's the noiſe? I haue done my worke ill Friends: Oh make an end of what I haue begun. The Starre is falne. And time is at his Period. Alas, and woe. Let him that loues me, ſtrike me dead. Not I. Nor I. Nor any one. Thy death and fortunes bid thy folowers ſly This ſword but ſhewne to Caeſar with this tydings▪ Shall enter me with him. Where's Anthony? There Diomed there. Liues he: wilt thou not anſwer man? Art thou there Diomed? Draw thy ſword, and giue mee, Suffiſing ſtrokes for death. Moſt abſolute Lord: My Miſtris Cleopatra ſent me to thee.