Renaissance Drama — Topics · seed 42

The Taming of the Shrew · chunk 39 of 41

Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1592 [c.1590-1604] (Annals)
comedy · Pembroke's Men
unassigned nearest T45 Widows, wooing and remarriage · 495 words

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Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T45: widow, widows, hoord, master, gentlemen, wife, randalls, wit, mistress, married.

At last, though long, our jarring notes agree, And time it is when raging war is come, To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown: My fair Bianca bid my father welcome, While I with selfsame kindness welcome thine: Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina, And thou Hortentio with thy loving Widow: Feast with the best, and welcome to my house, My Banquet is to close our stomachs up After our great good cheer: pray you sit down, For now we sit to chat as well as eat. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. For both our sakes I would that word were true. Now for my life Hortentio fears his Widow. Then never trust me if I be afeard. You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: I mean Hortentio is afeard of you. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. Roundly replied. Mistress, how mean you that? Thus I conceive by him. Conceives by me, how likes Hortentio that? My Widow says, thus she conceives her tale. Very well mended: kiss him for that good Widow. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round, I pray you tell me what you meant by that. Your husband being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe: And now you know my meaning. A very mean meaning. Right, I mean you. And I am mean indeed, respecting you. To her Kate. To her Widow. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. That's my office Spoke like an Officer: ha' to the lad. How likes Cremio these quick witted folks? Believe me sir, they But together well. Head, and but an hasty witted body, Would say your Head and But were head and horn. I Mistress Bride, hath that awakened you? I, but not frighted me, therefore I'll sleep again. Nay that you shall not since you have begun: Have at you for a better jest or too. Am I your Bird, I mean to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your Bow. You are welcome all. She hath prevented me, here signior Tranio, This bird you aimed at, though you hit her not, Therefore a health to all that shot and missed. Oh sir, Lucentio slipped me like his Greyhound, Which runs himself, and catches for his Master. A good swift simile, but something currish. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for yourself: 'Tis thought your Deer does hold you at a bay. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. I thank thee for that gird good Tranio. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? A has a little galled me I confess: And as the jest did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maimed you too out right. Now in good sadness son Petruchio, I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
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Details

Metadata, position in the edition, topic in the other seeds
PlayThe Taming of the Shrew
AuthorShakespeare, William
Publication year (edition)1623
First performance / composition (Annals)1592 [c.1590-1604]
First performance (BritDrama)1592 [1589-1592]
Company (BritDrama)Pembroke's Men
Genre (British Drama)comedy
Play typeAdult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEPedition 229 · TCP A11954 · DEEP 5081.11
Edition roleRepresentative edition — used in the analysis
Positionnodes 2137–2202 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 39 of 41 in this edition
Length495 words · 670 tokens
Topic (seed 42)unassigned by HDBSCAN · nearest topic T45 — Widows, wooing and remarriage at 0.704
Other seedsseed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T7 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
At laſt, though long, our iarring notes agree, And time it is when raging warre is come, To ſmile at ſcapes and perils ouerblowne: My faire Bianca bid my father welcome, While I with ſelfeſame kindneſſe welcome thine: Brother Petruchio, ſiſter Katerina, And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow: Feaſt with the beſt, and welcome to my houſe, My Banket is to cloſe our ſtomakes vp After our great good cheere: praie you ſit downe, For now we ſit to chat as well as eate. Nothing but ſit and ſit, and eate and eate. Padua affords this kindneſſe, ſonne Petruchio. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde. For both our ſakes I would that word were true. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow. Then neuer truſt me if I be affeard. You are verie ſencible, and yet you miſſe my ſence: I meane Hortentio is afeard of you. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round. Roundlie replied. Miſtris, how meane you that? Thus I conceiue by him. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that? My Widdow ſaies, thus ſhe conceiues her tale. Verie well mended: kiſſe him for that good Widdow. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round, I praie you tell me what you meant by that. Your housband being troubled with a ſhrew, Meaſures my husbands ſorrow by his woe: And now you know my meaning. A verie meane meaning. Right, I meane you. And I am meane indeede, reſpecting you. To her Kate. To her Widdow. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. That's my office Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad. How likes Cremio theſe quicke witted folkes? Beleeue me ſir, they But together well. Head, and but an haſtie witted bodie, Would ſay your Head and But were head and horne. I Miſtris Bride, hath that awakened you? I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile ſleepe againe. Nay that you ſhall not ſince you haue begun: Haue at you for a better ieſt or too. Am I your Bird, I meane to ſhift my buſh, And then purſue me as you draw your Bow. You are welcome all. She hath preuented me, here ſignior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not, Therefore a health to all that ſhot and miſt. Oh ſir, Lucentio ſlipt me like his Gray-hound, Which runs himſelfe, and catches for his Maſter. A good ſwift ſimile, but ſomething curriſh. 'Tis well ſir that you hunted for your ſelfe: 'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio. Confeſſe, confeſſe, hath he not hit you here? A has a little gald me I confeſſe: And as the Ieſt did glaunce awaie from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right. Now in good ſadneſſe ſonne Petruchio, I thinke thou haſt the verieſt ſhrew of all.