Shakespeare, William · published 1597 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.81 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Peace have they made with him indeed my Lord. Oh villains, vipers, damned without redemption, Dogs easily won to fawn on any man. Snakes in my heart blood warmed, that sting my heart, Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse than Iudas, Would they make peace? terrible hell, Make war upon their spotted souls for this. Sweet love I see changing his property, Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate, Again, uncurse their souls, their peace is made With heads and not with hands, those whom you curse Have felt the worst of deaths destroying wound, And lie full low graved in the hollow ground. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead. I all of them at Bristol lost their heads. Where is the Duke my father with his power▪ No matter where, of comfort no man speak: Letlet talk of graves, of worms, and Epitaphs▪ Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes, Writ sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so▪ for what can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bullingbrook's. And nothing can we call our own, but death: And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as passed, and cover to our bones, For God's sake let us fit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of Kings, How some have been deposed, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed▪ All murdered, for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keepes death his court, and there the antique ss, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breathe, a little scene, To monarchise be feared, and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, s if this flesh which wals about ourlife, Were brass impregnable: and humoured thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Boars through his Castle wall, and farewell King; Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood, With solemn reverence, throw a way respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends, subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a King? My lord, wisemen near fit and wail their woes, But presently prevent the ways to wail, To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself: Fear and be slain, no worse can come to fight, And fight and die, is death destroying death, Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. My father hath a power, inquire of him, And learn to make a body of a limb.
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)
Peace haue they made with him indeed my Lord. Oh villaines, vipers, damnd without redemption, Dogs easily woon to fawne on any man. Snakes in my hart bloud warmd, that sting my hart, Three Iudasses, each one thrise worse then Iudas, Would they make peace? terrible hel, Make war vpon their spotted soules for this. Sweet loue I see changing his propety, Turnes to the sowrest and most deadly hate, Againe, vncurse their soules, their peace is made With heads and not with hands, those whom you curse Haue felt the worst of deathes destroying wound, And lie full low grau'd in the hollow ground. Is Bushie, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead. I all of them at Bristow lost their heads. Where is the Duke my father with his power▪ No matter whereof comfort no man speake: talke of graues, of wormes, and Epitaphs▪ Make dust our paper, and with rainy eies, Write sorrow on the bosome of the earth. Lets choose executors and talke of wils: And yet not so▪ for what can we bequeath, Saue our deposed bodies to the ground? Our landes, our liues, and all are Bullingbrookes. And nothing can we call our owne, but death: And that small odle of the barren earth, Which serues as paste, and couer to our bones, For Gods sake let vs fit vpon the ground, And tell sad stoies of the death of Kings, How some haue beene depod, some slaine in warre, ome haunted by the ghosts they haue deposed, Some poisoned by their wiues, some sleeping kild▪ All murthered, for within the hollow crowne That roundes the mortall temples of a king, Keepes death his court, and there the antique ss, cofng his state and grining at his pompe, Allowing him a beath, a litle sceane, To monarchise be fead, and kil with lookes, nfusing him with selfe and vaine conceit, s if this flesh which wals about ourlife, ere brasse impregnable: and humord thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pi Boares thor his Castle wall, and farewell King; Couer your heades, and mocke not flesh and bloud, With solemne reuerence, throw a way respect, Tradition, forme, and ceremonious duetie, For you haue but mistooke me al this while: I liue with bread like you, feele want, Taste griefe, neede friends, subiected thus, How can you say to me, I am a King? My lord, wisemen nere fit and waile theyr woes, But presently preuent the wayes to waile, To feare the foe, since feare oppresseth strength, Giues in your weakenes strength vnto your foe, And so your follies fight against your selfe: Feare and be slaine, no wose can come to fight, And fight and die, is death destroying death, Where fearing dying, paies death seruile breath. My father hath a power, inquire of him, And learne to make a body of a limme.