Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T46 Swords, quarrels and valour · 477 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T46: rapier, sword, fight, gentlemen, gentleman, kicked, kill, dagger, signor, valour.
What draw, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: Have at thee Coward. Clubs, Bills, and Partisons, strike, beat them down down with the Capulets, down with the Mountagues. What noise is this? Give me my long Sword ho. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword? My Sword I say: Old Montague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spite of me. Thou villain, Capulet. Hold me not, let me go Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a Foe. Rebellious Subjects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not hear? What ho, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious Rage, With purple Fountains issuing from your Veins: On pain of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistempered Weapons to the ground, And hear the Sentence of your moved Prince. Three civil Broils, bred of an Eyrie word, By thee old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient Citizens Cast by their Grave beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partisans, in hands as old, Cankered with peace, to part your Cankered hate, If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You Capulet shall go along with me, And Montague come you this afternoon, To know our Father's pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common judgement place: Once more on pain of death, all men departed. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak Nephew, were you by, when it began: here were the servants of your adversary, And yours close fight ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepared, Which as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head, and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal, hist him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray. Madam, an hour before the worshipped Sun Peered forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad, Where underneath the grove of Sycamour, That Westward rooteth from this City side: So early walking did I see your Son: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the covert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought, where most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunned, who gladly fled from 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)
What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: Haue at thee Coward. Clubs, Bils, and Partiſons, ſtrike, beat them down Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues. What noiſe is this? Giue me my long Sword ho. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword? My Sword I ſay: Old Mountague is come, And flouriſhes his Blade in ſpight of me. Thou villaine▪ Capulet. Hold me not, let me go Thou ſhalt not ſtir a foote to ſeeke a Foe. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-ſtained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beaſts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines iſſuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from thoſe bloody hands Throw your miſtemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Mountague, Haue thrice diſturb'd the quiet of our ſtreets, And made Verona's ancient Citizens Caſt by their Graue beſeeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old, Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you diſturbe our ſtreets againe, Your liues ſhall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the reſt depart away: You Capulet ſhall goe along with me, And Mountague come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleaſure in this caſe: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart. Who ſet this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began: Heere were the ſeruants of your aduerſarie, And yours cloſe fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the inſtant came The fiery Tibalt, with his ſword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He ſwong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hiſt him in ſcorne. While we were enterchanging thruſts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part. O where is Romeo, ſaw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray. Madam, an houre before the worſhipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the Eaſt, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That Weſt-ward rooteth from this City ſide: So earely walking did I ſee your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And ſtole into the couert of the wood, I meaſuring his affections by my owne, Which then moſt ſought, wher moſt might not be found: Being one too many by my weary ſelfe, Purſued my Honour, not purſuing his And gladly ſhunn'd, who gladly fled from me.