Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T52 Prodigals, portions and poor kin · 505 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T52: brother, father, uncle, cousin, son, poor, bread, old, given, master.
Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion sour: You urged me as a judge, but I had rather you would have bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I looked when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine own away: But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, Against my will, to do myself this wrong. Cousin farewell: and Uncle bid him so: Six years we banish him, and he shall go. Cousin farewell: what presence must not know From where you do remain, let paper show. My Lord, no leave take I, for I will ride As far as land will let me, by your side. Oh to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou teturnst no greeting to thy friends? I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongues office should be prodigal, To breathe th' abundant dolour of the heart. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. joy absent, grief is present for that time. What is six Winters, they are quickly gone? To men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced Pilgrimage. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem a soil, wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, by bare imagination of a Feast? Or Wallow naked in December snow by thinking on fantastic summer's heat? Oh no, the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrows tooth, doth ever rankle more Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Come, come (my son) I'll bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Then England's ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurse, which bears me yet: Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? I brought high Herford (if you call him so) but to the next high way, and there I left him. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? Faith none for me: except the North-east wind Which then grew bitterly against our face, Awaked the sleepy rhewme, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. What said our Cousin when you parted with him? Farewell: and for my hart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief, That word seemed buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word Farewell, have lengthened hours, And added years to his short banishment, He should have had a volume of Farewells, but since it would not, he had none of me.
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)
Things ſweet to taſt, proue in digeſtion ſowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather you would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when ſome of you ſhould ſay, I was too ſtrict to make mine owne away: But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, Againſt my will, to do my ſelfe this wrong. Coſine farewell: and Vncle bid him ſo: Six yeares we baniſh him, and he ſhall go. Coſine farewell: what preſence muſt not know From where you do remaine, let paper ſhow. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride As farre as land will let me, by your ſide. Oh to what purpoſe doſt thou hord thy words, That thou teturnſt no greeting to thy friends? I haue too few to take my leaue of you, When the tongues office ſhould be prodigall, To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart. Thy greefe is but thy abſence for a time. Ioy abſent, greefe is preſent for that time. What is ſixe Winters, they are quickely gone? To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten. Call it a trauell that thou tak'ſt for pleaſure. My heart will ſigh, when I miſcall it ſo, Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage. The ſullen paſſage of thy weary ſteppes Eſteeme a ſoyle, wherein thou art to ſet The precious Iewell of thy home returne. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the froſtie Caucaſus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, by bare imagination of a Feaſt? Or Wallow naked in December ſnow by thinking on fantaſticke ſummers heate? Oh no, the apprehenſion of the good Giues but the greater feeling to the worſe: Fell ſorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more Then when it bites, but lanceth not the ſore. Come, come (my ſon) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cauſe, I would not ſtay. Then Englands ground farewell: ſweet ſoil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurſe, which beares me yet: Where ere I wander, boaſt of this I can, Though baniſh'd, yet a true-borne Engliſhman. We did obſerue. Coſine Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? I brought high Herford (if you call him ſo) but to the next high way, and there I left him. And ſay, what ſtore of parting tears were ſhed? Faith none for me: except the Northeaſt wind Which then grew bitterly againſt our face, Awak'd the ſleepie rhew me, and ſo by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a teare. What ſaid our Coſin when you parted with him? Farewell: and for my hart diſdained yt my tongue Should ſo prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppreſsion of ſuch greefe, That word ſeem'd buried in my ſorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his ſhort baniſhment, He ſhould haue had a volume of Farwels, but ſince it would not, he had none of me.