Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [c.1590-1604] (Annals) comedy · Pembroke's Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
And till the tears that she hath shed for thee, Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world, And yet she is inferior to none. Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady? Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak: I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things: Upon my life I am a Lord indeed, And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Sly. Well, bring our Lady hither to our sight, And once again a pot o' th' smallest Ale. Wilt please your mightiness to wash your hands: Oh how we joy to see your wit restored, Oh that once more you knew but what you are: These fifteen years you have been in a dream, Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. These fifteen years, by my faith, a goodly nap, But did I never speak of all that time. Oh yes my Lord, but very idle words, For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door, And rail upon the Hostess of the house, And say you would prosent her at the Leete, Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no sealed quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. I, the woman's maid of the house. Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid Nor no such men as you have reckoned up, As Stephen Sly, and old Iohn Naps of Greece, And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell, And twenty more such names and men as these, Which never were, nor no man ever saw. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends. Amen. I thank thee, thou shalt not lose by it. How fares my noble Lord? Marry I far well, for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? here noble Lord, what is thy will with her? Are you my wife, and will not call me husband? My men should call me Lord, I am your goodman. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband I am your wife in all obedience. I know it well, what must I call her? Madam. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam? Madam, and nothing else, so Lords call Ladies Madame wife, they say that I have dreamed, And slept above some fifteen year or more. I, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandoned from your bed. 'Tis much, servants leave me and her alone: Madam undress you, and come now to bed. Thrice noble Lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or if not so, until the Sun be set. For your Physicians have expressly charged, In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed: I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
seed 43: T31 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And til the teares that ſhe hath ſhed for thee, Like enuious flouds ore-run her louely face, She was the faireſt creature in the world, And yet ſhee is inferiour to none. Am I a Lord, and haue I ſuch a Ladie? Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now? I do not ſleepe: I ſee, I heare, I ſpeake: I ſmel ſweet ſauours, and I feele ſoft things: Vpon my life I am a Lord indeede, And not a Tinker, nor Chriſtopher Slie. Well, bring our Ladie hither to our ſight, And once againe a pot o' th ſmalleſt Ale. Wilt pleaſe your mightineſſe to waſh your hands: Oh how we ioy to ſee your wit reſtor'd, Oh that once more you knew but what you are: Theſe fifteene yeeres you haue bin in a dreame, Or when you wak'd, ſo wak'd as if you ſlept. Theſe fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap, But did I neuer ſpeake of all that time. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words, For though you lay heere in this goodlie chamber, Yet would you ſay, ye were beaten out of doore, And raile vpon the Hoſteſſe of the houſe, And ſay you would proſent her at the Leete, Becauſe ſhe brought ſtone-Iugs, and no ſeal'd quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. I, the womans maide of the houſe. Why ſir you know no houſe, nor no ſuch maid Nor no ſuch men as you haue reckon'd vp, As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece, And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell, And twentie more ſuch names and men as theſe, Which neuer were, nor no man euer ſaw. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends. Amen. I thanke thee, thou ſhalt not looſe by it. How fares my noble Lord? Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough. Where is my wife? Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her? Are you my wife, and will not cal me husband? My men ſhould call me Lord, I am your good-man. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband I am your wife in all obedience. I know it well, what muſt I call her? Madam. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam? Madam, and nothing elſe, ſo Lords cal Ladies Madame wife, they ſay that I haue dream'd, And ſlept aboue ſome fifteene yeare or more. I, and the time ſeeme's thirty vnto me, Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. 'Tis much, ſeruants leaue me and her alone: Madam vndreſſe you, and come now to bed. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or if not ſo, vntill the Sun be ſet. For your Phyſitians haue expreſſely charg'd, In perill to incurre your former malady, That I ſhould yet abſent me from your bed: I hope this reaſon ſtands for my excuſe.