Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1595 (Annals) tragedy; history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T25 Kings, power and law: political sententi typicality 0.74 · 513 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T25: feare, kings, power, princes, lawes, loue, state, downe, honor, men.
Come my old son, I pray heaven make thee new. Didst thou not mark the King what words he spoke? Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear: Was it not so? Those were his very words. Have I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spoke it twice, And urged it twice together, did he not? He did. And speaking it, he wistly looked on me, As who should say, I would thou were't the man That would divorce this terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's go; I am the King's Friend, and will rid his Foe. I have been studying, how to compare This Prison where I live, unto the World: And for because the world is populous, And here is not a Creature, but myself, I cannot do it: yet I'll hammered out. My Brain, I'll prove the Female to my Soul, My Soul, the Father: and these two beget A generation of still breeding Thoughts; And these same Thoughts, people this Little World In humours, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things Divine, are intermixed With scruples, and do set the Faith itself Against the Faith: as thus: Come little ones: & then again, It is as hard to come, as for a Camel To thread the postern of a Needle's eye. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails May tear a passage through the Flinty ribs Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls: And for they cannot, die in their own pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselves, That they are not the first of Fortune's slaves, Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars, Who sitting in the Stocks, refuge their shame That many have, and others must sit there; And in this Thought, they find a kind of ease, Bearing their own misfortune on the back Of such as have before endured the like. Thus play I in one Prison, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then Treason makes me wish myself a Beggar, And so I am. Then crushing penury, Persuades me, I was better when a King: Then am I kinged again: and by and by, Think that I am unkinged by Bullingbrooke, And strait am nothing. But what ere I am, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased With being nothing, Music do I hear? Ha', ha'? keep time: How sour sweet Music is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Music of men's lives: And here have I the daintiness of ear, To hear time broke in a disordered string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an ear to hear my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbering clock; My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighs they jar,
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 2552–2614 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 41 of 43 in this edition
Length
513 words · 667 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T25 — Kings, power and law: political sententiaecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.744 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T25 · seed 44: T6 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Come my old ſon, I pray heauen make thee new. Didſt thou not marke the King what words hee ſpake? Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: Was it not ſo? Thoſe were his very words. Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he ſpake it twice, And vrg'd it twice together, did he not? He did. And ſpeaking it, he wiſtly look'd on me, As who ſhould ſay, I would thou wer't the man That would diuorce this terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. I haue bin ſtudying, how to compare This Priſon where I liue, vnto the World: And for becauſe the world is populous, And heere is not a Creature, but my ſelfe, I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out. My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, My Soule, the Father: and theſe two beget A generation of ſtill breeding Thoughts; And theſe ſame Thoughts, people this Little World In humors, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better ſort, As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt With ſcruples, and do ſet the Faith it ſelfe Againſt the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again, It is as hard to come, as for a Camell To thred the poſterne of a Needles eye. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Vnlikely wonders; how theſe vaine weake nailes May teare a paſſage through the Flinty ribbes Of this hard world, my ragged priſon walles: And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themſelues, That they are not the firſt of Fortunes ſlaues, Nor ſhall not be the laſt. Like ſilly Beggars, Who ſitting in the Stockes, refuge their ſhame That many haue, and others muſt ſit there; And in this Thought, they finde a kind of eaſe, Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe Of ſuch as haue before indur'd the like. Thus play I in one Priſon, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then Treaſon makes me wiſh my ſelfe a Beggar, And ſo I am. Then cruſhing penurie, Perſwades me, I was better when a King: Then am I king'd againe: and by and by, Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke, And ſtraight am nothing. But what ere I am, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing ſhall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing, Muſicke do I heare? Ha, ha? keepe time: How ſowre ſweet Muſicke is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Muſicke of mens liues: And heere haue I the daintineſſe of eare, To heare time broke in a diſorder'd ſtring: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. I waſted Time, and now doth Time waſte me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre,