Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1634 · first performed or written 1613 [1613-1614] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.81 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
The Duke has lost Hippolita; each took A several land. This is a solemn Right They owe bloomd May, and the Athenians pay it Toth' heart of Ceremony: O Queen Emilia Fresher than May, sweeter Than her gold Buttons on the bows, or all Th'enameled knacks o'th' Mead, or garden, yea (We challenge too) the bank of any Nymph That makes the stream seem flowers; thou o jewel O'th' wood, o'th' world, hast likewise blessed a pace With thy sole presence, in thy rumination That I poor man might eftsoons come between And chop on some cold thought, thrice blessed chance To drop on such a Mistress, expectation most guiltless on't: tell me O Lady Fortune (Next after Emely my sovereign) how far I may be proud. She takes strong note of me, Hath made me near her; and this beuteous Morn (The prim'st of all the year) presents me with A brace of horses, two such Steeds might well Be by a pair of Kings backed, in a Field That their crowns titles tried: Alas, alas Poor Cosen Palamon, poor prisoner, thou So little dreamest upon my fortune, that Thou thinkst thyself, the happier thing, to be So near Emilia, me thou deemest at Thebes, And therein wretched, although free; But if Thou knew'st my Mistress breathed on me, and that I eared her language, lived in her eye; O Coz What passion would enclose thee. Traitor kinsman, Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs Of prisonment were off me, and this hand But owner of a Sword: By all oaths in one I, and the justice of my love would make thee A confessed Traitor, o thou most perfidious That ever gently looked the voids of honour. That e'er bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen That ever blood made kin, call'st thou her thine? I'll prove it in my Shackles, with these hands, Void of appointment, that thou liest, and art A very thief in love, a Chaffy Lord Nor worth the name of villain: had I a Sword And these house clogs away. Dear Cosin Palamon, Cozener Arcite, give me language, such As thou hast showed me feat. Not finding in The circuit of my breast, any gross stuff To form me like your blazon, holds me to This gentleness of answer; 'tis your passion That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy, Cannot to me be kind: honour, and honesty I cherish, and depend on, how so e'er You skip them in me, and with them fair Coz I'll maintain my proceedings; pray be pleased To show in generous terms, your griefs, since that Your question's with your equal, who professes To clear his own way, with the mind and Sword Of a true Gentleman. That thou durst Arcite. My Coz, my Coz, you have been well advertised How much I dare, y'ave seen me use my Sword Against th'advice of fear: sure of another You would not hear me doubted, but your silence Should break out, though i'th' Sanctuary.
seed 43: T0 · seed 44: T0 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
The Duke has lost Hypolita; each tooke A severall land. This is a solemne Right They owe bloomd May, and the Athenians pay it To'th heart of Ceremony: O Queene Emilia Fresher then May, sweeter Then hir gold Buttons on the bowes, or all Th'en amelld knackes o'th Meade, or garden, yea (We challenge too) the bancke of any Nymph That makes the streame seeme flowers; thou o Iewell O'th wood, o'th world, hast likewise blest a pace With thy sole presence, in thy rumination That I poore man might eftsoones come betweene And chop on some cold thought, thrice blessed chance To drop on such a Mistris, expectation most giltlesse on't: tell O Lady Fortune (Next after Emely y Sovegne) how far I may be prowd. She takes strong note of me, Hath made me neere her; and this benteous Morne (The prim'st of all the yeare) presents me with A brace of horses, two such Steeds might well Be by a paire of Kings backt, in a Field That their crownes titles tride: Alas, alas Poore Cosen Palamon, poore prisoner, thou So litle dream'st upon my fortune, that Thou thinkst thy selfe, the happier thing, to be So neare Emilia, me thou deem'st at Thebs, And therein wretched, although free; But if Thou knew'st my Mistris breathd on me, and that I ear'd her language, livde in her eye; O Coz What passion would enclose thee. Traytor kinseman, Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signel Of prisonment were off me, and this hand But owner of a Sword: By all othes in one I, and the iustice of my love would make thee A conf Traytor, o thou most persidious That ever gently lookd the voydes of honour. That eu'r bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen That ever blood made kin, call'st thou hir thine? Ile prove it in my Shackles, with these hands, Void of appointment, that thouly'st, and art A very theefe in love, a Chy Lord Nor worth the name of villaine: had I a Sword And these house clogges away. Deere Cosin Palamon, Cosoner Arcite, give me language, such As thou hast shewd me feate. Not ding in The circuit of my breast, any grosse stuffe To forme me like your blazon, holds me to This gentlenesse of answer; tis your passion That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy, Cannot to me be kind: honor, and honestie I cherish, and depend on, how so ev'r You skip them in me, and with them faire Coz Ile maintaine my proceedings; pray be pleas'd To shew in generous termes, your griefes, since that Your question's with your equall, who professes To cleare his owne way, with the minde and Sword Of a true Gentleman. That thou durst Arcite. My Coz, my Coz, you have beene well advertis'd How much I dare, y'ave seene me use my Sword Against th'advice of feare: sure of another You would not heare me doubted, but your silence Should breake out, though i'th Sanctuary.