Shakespeare, William / Fletcher, John · published 1634 · first performed or written 1613 [1613-1614] (Annals) tragicomedy · King's Men · Blackfriars unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 536 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Nothing that I heard, For I came home before the business Was fully ended: Yet I might perceive Ere I departed, a great likelihood Of both their pardons: For Hippolita, And faire-eyd Emilie, upon their knees Begged with such handsome pity, that the Duke Me thought stood staggering, whether he should follow His rash oth, or the sweet compassion Of those two Ladies; and to second them, That truly noble Prince Perithous Half his own heart, set in too, that I hope All shall be well: Neither heard I one question Of your name, or his 'scape. Pray heaven it hold so. Be of good comfort man; I bring you news, Good news. They are welcome, Palamon has cleared you, And got your pardon, and discovered How, and by whose means he escaped, which was your Daughters, Whose pardon is procured too, and the Prisoner Not to be held ungrateful to her goodness, Has given a sum of money to her Marriage. A large one i'll assure you. Ye are a good man And ever bring good news. How was it ended? Why, as it should be; they that ne'er begged But they prevailed, had their suits fairly granted, The prisoners have their lives. I knew 'twould be so. But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of At better time. I hope they are good. They are honourable, How good they'll prove, I know not. 'Twill be known. Alas Sir, where's your Daughter? Why do you ask? O Sir when did you see her? How he looks? This morning. Was she well? was she in health? Sir, when did she sleep? These are strange Questions. I do not think she was very well, for now You make me mind her, but this very day I asked her questions, and she answered me So far from what she was, so childishly. So sillily, as if she were a fool, An Innocent, and I was very angry. But what of her Sir? Nothing but my pity; but you must know it, and as good by me As by an other that less loves her: Well Sir. Not right? Not well?— Wooer, No Sir not well. 'tis too true, she is mad. It cannot be. Believe you'll find it so. I half suspected What you told me: the gods comfort her: Either this was her love to Palamon, Or fear of my miscarrying on his 'scape, Or both. 'tis likely. But why all this haste Sir? I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling In the great Lake that lies behind the Palace, From the far shore, thick set with reeds, and Sedges, As patiently I was attending sport, I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive I gave my ear, when I might well perceive 'Twas one that sung, and by the smallness of it A boy or woman. I than left my angle To his own skill, came near, but yet perceived not Who made the sound; the rushes, and the Reeds Had so encompassed it: I laid me down And listened to the words she song, for then Through a small glade cut by the Fisher men, I saw it was your Daughter.
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)
Nothing that I heard, For I came home before the busines Was fully ended: Yet I might perceive Ere I departed, a great likelihood Of both their prdons: For Hipolita, And faire-eyd Emilie, upon their knees Begd with such hansom pitty, that the Duke Me thought stood staggering, whether e should follow His rah o'th, or the sweet compassion Of those two ; and to second them, That truely noble Prince Prithous Halfe his owne heart, set in too, that I hope All shall be well: Neither heard I one question Of your name, or his scape. Pray heaven it hold so. Be of good comfort man; I bring you newes, Good newes. They are welcome, Palamon has cleerd you, And got your pardon, and discoverd How, and by whose meanes he escapt, which was your Daughters, Whose pardon is procurd too, and the Prisoner Not to be held ungratefull to her goodnes, Has given a summe of money to her Marriage. A large one ile assure you. Ye are a good man And ever bring good newes. How was it ended? Why, as it should be; they that nev'r begd But they prevaild, had their suites fairely granted, The prisoners have their lives. I knew t'would be so. But there be new conditions, which you'l heare of At better time. I hope they are good. They are honourable, How good they'l prove, I know not. T'will be knowne. Alas Sir, wher's your Daughter? Why doe you aske? O Sir when did you see her? How he lookes? This morning. Was she well? was she in health? Sir, when did she sleepe? These are strange Questions. I doe not thinke she was very well, for now You make me minde her, but this very day I ask'd her questions, and she answered me So farre from what she was, so childishly. So sillily, as if she were a foole, An Inocent, and I was very angry. But what of her Sir? Nothing but my pitty; but you must know it, and as good by me As by an other that lesse loves her: Well Sir. Not right? Not well? — Wooer, No Sir not well. Tis too true, she is mad. It cannot be. Beleeve you'l finde it so. I halfe suspected What you told me: the gods comfort her: Either this was her love to Palamon, Or feare of my miscarrying on his scape, Or both. Tis likely. But why all this haste Sir? Ile tell you quickly. As I late was angling In the great Lake that lies behind the Pallace, From the far shore, thicke set with reedes, and Sedges, As patiently I was attending sport, I heard a voyce, a shrill one, and attentive I gave my eare, when I might well perceive T'was one that sung, and by the smallnesse of it A boy or woman. I then left my angle To his owne skill, came neere, but yet perceivd not Who made the sound; the rushes, and the Reeds Had so encompast it: I laide me downe And listned to the words she song, for then Through a small glade cut by the Fiher men, I saw it was your Daughter.