Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.72 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows. Which shows like grief itself, but is not so: For sorrows eyes glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects, Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry, Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, Looking awry upon your Lord's departure, Find shapes of grief more than himself to wail, Which looked on as it is, is nought but shadows Of what it is not; then thrice (gracious Queen) More than your Lord's departure weep not, more is not seen Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrows eye, Which for things true, weeps things imaginary. It may be so; but yet my inward soul Persuades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heavy sad, As thought on thinking on no thought I think, Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. 'tis nothing but conceit my gracious Lady. 'tis nothing less: conceit is still derived, From some forefather grief, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something grief, Or something hath the nothing that I grieve, 'tis in reversion that I do possess, But what it is that is not yet known what, I cannot name, 'tis nameless woe I wots. God save your majesty, and well met Gentlemen, I hope the King is not yet shipped for Ireland. Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is, For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipped? That he our hope might have retired his power, And driven into despair an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this land, The banished Bullingbrooke repeals himself, And with uplifted arms is safe arrived at Ravenspurgh. Now God in heaven forbidden. Ah Madam! 'tis too true, and that is worse: The lord Northumberland, his son young H. Percy, The lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends are fled to him. Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland And all the rest revolted faction, traitors? We have, whereupon the earl of Worcester Hath broken his Staff, resigned his Stewardship, And all the household servants fled with him to Bullingbrook So Greene, thou art the midwife to my woe, And Bullingbrooke my sorrows dismal heir, Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, And I a gasping new delivered mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow joined Despair not Madam. Who shall hinder me? I will despair and be at enmity With cozening Hope, he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper back of Death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false Hope lingers in extremity. Here comes the Duke of York. With signs of war about his aged neck, Oh full of careful business are his looks! Uncle, for God's sake speak comfortable words.
nodes 965–1027 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 41 in this edition
Length
482 words · 661 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.720 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Each substance of a griefe hath twenty shadowes. Which shewe like griefe it selfe, but is not so: For Sorrowes eyes giazed with blinding teares, Diuides one thing entire to many obiects, Like perspectiues, which rightly gazde vpon Shew nothing but confusion; eyde awry, Distinguish forme: so your sweet maiestie, Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, Finde shapes of griefe more than himselfe to waile, Which lookt on as it is, is naught but shadows Of what it is not; then thrice (gracious Queene) More then your Lords departure weep not, more is not seen Or if it be, tis with false Sorrowes eye, Which for things true, weepes things imaginarie. It may be so; but yet my inward soule Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauie sad, As thought on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke. Tis nothing but conceit my gratious Lady. Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriude, From some forefather griefe, mne is not so, For nothing hath begot my something griefe, Or something hath the nothing that I grieue, Tis in reuersion that I do possesse, But what it is that is not yet knowen what, I cannot name, tis nmelesse woe I wot. God saue your maiesty, and well met Gentlemen, I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland. Why hopest thou so? tis better hope he is, For his designes craue haste, his haste good hope: Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt? That he our hope might haue retirde his power, And driuen into despaire an enemies hope, Who strong'y hath set footing in this land, The banisht Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, And with vplifted armes is safe ariude at Rauenspurgh. Now God in heauen forbid. Ah Madam! tis too true, and that is worse: The lord Northumberland, his son yong H. Percie, The lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powerful friends are fled to him. Why haue you not proclaimd Northumberland And al the rest reuolted faction, traitours? We haue, whereupon the earle of Worceser Hath brokn his Staffe, resignd his Stewardship, And al the houshold seruants sled with him to Bullingbrook So Greene, thou art the midwife to my woe, An Bullingbrooke my sorowes dismall heire, Now hath my soule brought forth her prodigie, And I a gasping new deliued mother, Haue woe to woe, sorow to soow ioynde Dispaire not Madam. Who hinder me? I will dispaire and be at enmitie With cousening Hope, he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper backe of Death, Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, VVhich false Hope lingers in extremitie. Here comes the Duke of Yorke. VVith signes of war about his aged necke, Oh ful of carefull busines are his lookes! Vncle, for Gods sake speake comfortable wordes.