Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T41 Household service: masters, doors and po · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
When good manners, shall lie in one or two men's hands, and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. Away with the joynstooles, remove the Court-cubbord, look to the Plate: good thou, save me a piece of Marchpane, and as thou lovest me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthony and Potpan. I Boy ready. You are looked for, and called for, asked for, & sought for, in the great Chamber. We cannot be here and there too, cheerly Boys, Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Welcome Gentlemen, Ladies that have their toes Vnplagu'd with Corns, will walk about with you: Ah my Mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She I'll swear hath Corns: am I come near ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I have seen the day That I have worn a Visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a fair Lady's ear: Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musicians play: A Hall, Hall, give room, and foot it Girls, More light you knaves, and turn the Tables up: And quench the fire, the Room is grown too hot. Ah sirrah, this unlooked for sport comes well: Nay sit, nay sit, good Cousin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days: How long ' is't now since last yourself and I Were in a Mask? Berlady thirty years. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, 'Tis since the Nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentycost as quickly as it will, Some five and twenty years, and then we Masked. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Son is elder sir: His Son is thirty. Will you tell me that? His Son was but a Ward two years ago. What Lady is that which dothni rich the hand Of yonder Knight? I know not sir. O she doth teach the Torches to burn bright: It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, As a rich jewel in an Aethiops ear: Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear: So shows a Snowy Dove trooping with Crows, As yonder Lady o'er her fellow's shows; The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now, forswear it sight, For I never saw true Beauty till this night. This by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slave Come hither covered with an antique face, To fleer and scorn at our Solemnity? Now by the stock and Honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. Why how now kinsman, Wherefore storm you so? Uncle this is a Montague, our foe: A Villain that is hither come in spite, To scorn at our Solemnity this night. Young Romeo is it? 'Tis he, that Villain Romeo.
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)
When good manners, ſhall lie in one or two mens hands, and they vnwaſht too, 'tis a foule thing. Away with the Ioynſtooles, remoue the Courtcubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, ſaue mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou loueſt me, let the Porter let in Suſan Grindſtone, and Nell, Anthonie and Potpan. I Boy readie. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & ſought for, in the great Chamber. We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all. Welcome Gentlemen, Ladies that haue their toes Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: Ah my Miſtreſſes, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ile ſweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I haue ſeene the day That I haue worne a Viſor, and could tell A whiſpering tale in a faire Ladies eare: Such as would pleaſe: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome Gentlemen, come Muſitians play: A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp: And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot. Ah ſirrah, this vnlookt for ſport comes well: Nay ſit, nay ſit, good Cozin Capulet, For you and I are paſt our dauncing daies: How long 'iſt now ſince laſt your ſelfe and I Were in a Maske? Berlady thirty yeares. What man: 'tis not ſo much, 'tis not ſo much, 'Tis ſince the Nuptiall of Lucentio, Come Pentycoſt as quickely as it will, Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder ſir: His Sonne is thirty. Will you tell me that? His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe. What Ladie is that which dothni rich the hand Of yonder Knight? I know not ſir. O ſhe doth teach the Torches to burne bright: It ſeemes ſhe hangs vpon the cheeke of night, As a rich Iewel in an Aethiops eare: Beauty too rich for vſe, for earth too deare: So ſhewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes, As yonder Lady ore her fellowes ſhowes; The meaſure done, Ile watch her place of ſtand, And touching hers, make bleſſed my rude hand. Did my heart loue till now, forſweare it ſight, For I neuer ſaw true Beauty till this night. This by his voice, ſhould be a Mountague. Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the ſlaue Come hither couer'd with an antique face, To fleere and ſcorne at our Solemnitie? Now by the ſtocke and Honour of my kin, To ſtrike him dead I hold it not a ſin. Why how now kinſman, Wherefore ſtorme you ſo? Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe: A Villaine that is hither come in ſpight, To ſcorne at our Solemnitie this night. Young Romeo is it? 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo.