Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1607 [c.1606-1608] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 503 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
I am dying Egypt, dying. Give me some Wine, and let me speak a little. No, let me speak, and let me rail so high, That the false Huswife Fortune, break her Wheel, Provoked by my offence. One word (sweet Queen) Of Caesar seek your Honour, with your safety. Oh. They do not go together. Gentle hear me, None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius. My Resolution, and my hands, I'll trust, None about Caesar. The miserable change now at my end, Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts In feeding them with those my former Fortunes Wherein I lived. The greatest Prince o' th' world, The Noblest: and do now not basely dye, Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to My Countryman. A Roman, by a Roman Valiantly vanquished. Now my Spirit is going, I can no more. Noblest of men, wilt dye? Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a Sty? Oh see my women: The Crown o' th' earth doth melt. My Lord? Oh withered is the Garland of the War, The Soldiers' pole is fall'n: young Boys and Girls Are level now with men: The odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting Moon. Oh quietness, Lady. She's dead too, our Sovereign. Lady. Madam. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam. Royal Egypt: Empress. Peace, peace, Iras. No more but in a Woman, and commanded By such poor passion, as the Maid that Milkes, And does the meanest chares. It were for me, To throw my Sceptre at the injurious Gods, To tell them that this World did equal theirs, Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught: Patience is sottish, and impatience does Become a Dog that's mad: Then is it sin, To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to us. How do you Women? What, what good cheer? Why how now Charmian? My Noble Girls? Ah Women, women! Look Our Lamp is spent, it's out. Good sirs, take heart, we'll bury him: And then, what's brave, what's Noble, Let's do't after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come, away, This case of that huge Spirit now is cold. Ah Women, Women! Come, we have no Friend But Resolution, and the breefest end. Go to him Dollabella, bid him yield, Being so frustrate, tell him, He mocks the pawses that he makes. Caesar, I shall. Wherefore is that? And what art thou that darest Appear thus to us? I am called Decretas, Mark Anthony I served, who best was worthy Best to be served: whilst he stood up, and spoke He was my Master, and I wore my life To spend upon his haters. If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him, I'll be to Caesar: it thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life. What is't thou sayst? I say (Oh Caesar) Anthony is dead.
seed 43: T30 · 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 am dying Egypt, dying. Giue me ſome Wine, and let me ſpeake a little. No, let me ſpeake, and let me rayle ſo hye, That the falſe Huſwife Fortune, breake her Wheele, Prouok'd by my offence. One word (ſweet Queene) Of Caeſar ſeeke your Honour, with your ſafety. Oh. They do not go together. Gentle heare me, None about Caeſar truſt, but Proculeius. My Reſolution, and my hands, Ile truſt, None about Caeſar. The miſerable change now at my end, Lament nor ſorrow at: but pleaſe your thoughts In feeding them with thoſe my former Fortunes Wherein I liued. The greateſt Prince o' th' world, The Nobleſt: and do now not baſely dye, Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to My Countreyman. A Roman, by a Roman Valiantly vanquiſh'd. Now my Spirit is going, I can no more. Nobleſt of men, woo't dye? Haſt thou no care of me, ſhall I abide In this dull world, which in thy abſence is No better then a Stye? Oh ſee my women: The Crowne o' th' earth doth melt. My Lord? Oh wither'd is the Garland of the Warre, The Souldiers pole is falne: young Boyes and Gyrles Are leuell now with men: The oddes is gone, And there is nothing left remarkeable Beneath the viſiting Moone. Oh quietneſſe, Lady. She's dead too, our Soueraigne. Lady. Madam. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam. Royall Egypt: Empreſſe. Peace, peace, Iras. No more but in a Woman, and commanded By ſuch poore paſſion, as the Maid that Milkes, And doe's the meaneſt chaes. It were for me, To throw my Scepter at the iniurious Gods, To tell them that this World did equall theyrs, Till they had ſtolne our Iewell. All's but naught: Patience is ſottiſh, and impatience does Become a Dogge that's mad: Then is it ſinne, To ruſh into the ſecret houſe of death, Ere death dare come to vs. How do you Women? What, what good cheere? Why how now Charmian? My Noble Gyrles? Ah Women, women! Looke Our Lampe is ſpent, it's out. Good ſirs, take heart, Wee'l bury him: And then, what's braue, what's Noble, Let's doo't after the high Roman faſhion, And make death proud to take vs. Come, away, This caſe of that huge Spirit now is cold. Ah Women, Women! Come, we haue no Friend But Reſolution, and the breefeſt end. Go to him Dollabella, bid him yeeld, Being ſo fruſtrate, tell him, He mockes the pawſes that he makes. Caeſar, I ſhall. Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'ſt Appeare thus to vs? I am call'd Decretas, Marke Anthony I ſeru'd, who beſt was worthie Beſt to be ſeru'd: whil'ſt he ſtood vp, and ſpoke He was my Maſter, and I wore my life To ſpend vpon his haters. If thou pleaſe To take me to thee▪ as I was to him, Ile be to Caeſar: it yu pleaſeſt not, I yeild thee vp my life. What is't thou ſay'ſt? I ſay (Oh Caeſar) Anthony is dead.