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 · 522 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T41: master, house, door, iohn, old, mistress, basket, lord, gentleman, ick.
Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone, A bears him like a portly Gentleman: And to say truth, Verona brags of him, To be a virtuous and well governed youth: I would not for the wealth of all the town, Here in my house do him disparagement: Therefore be patiented, take no note of him, It is my will, the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns, An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast. It fits when such a Villain is a guest, I'll not endure him. He shall be endu'rd. What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too, Am I the Master here or you? go too, You'll not endure him, God shall mend my soul, You'll make a Mutiny among the Guests: You will set cock a hoop, you'll be the man. Why Uncle, 'tis a shame. Go too, go too, You are a saucy Boy,' is't so indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what, You must contrary me, marry 'tis time. Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, go, Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame, I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly my hearts. Patience perforce, with wilful choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. If I profane with my unworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kiss. Good Pilgrim, You do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this, For Saints have hands, that Pilgrim's hands do touch, And palm to palm, is holy Palmer's kiss. Have not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too? I Pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. O then dear Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant thou) lest faith turn to despair. Saints do not move, Though grant for prayers sake. Then move not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purged. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged: Give me my sin again. You kiss by ' th' book. Madam your Mother craves a word with you. What is her Mother? Marry Bachelor, Her Mother is the Lady of the house, And a good Lady, and a wise, and Virtuous, I Nursed her Daughter that you talked withal: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, Shall have the chinks. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! My life is my foes debt. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best. I so I fear, the more is my unrest. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We have a trifling foolish Banquet towards: Is it e'en so? why than I thank you all. I thank you honest Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. Ah sirrah, by my faith it waxes late, I'll to my rest.
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)
Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone, A beares him like a portly Gentleman: And to ſay truth, Verona brags of him, To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the towne, Here in my houſe do him diſparagement: Therfore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will, the which if thou reſpect, Shew a faire preſence, and put off theſe frownes, An ill beſeeming ſemblance for a Feaſt. It fits when ſuch a Villaine is a gueſt, Ile not endure him. He ſhall be endu'rd. What goodman boy, I ſay he ſhall, go too, Am I the Maiſter here or you? go too, Youle not endure him, God ſhall mend my ſoule, Youle make a Mutinie among the Gueſts: You will ſet cocke a hoope, youle be the man. Why Vncle, 'tis a ſhame. Go too, go too, You are a ſawcy Boy, 'iſt ſo indeed? This tricke may chance to ſcath you, I know what, You muſt contrary me, marry 'tis time. Well ſaid my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, Be quiet, or more light, more light for ſhame, Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, Makes my fleſh tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this intruſion ſhall Now ſeeming ſweet, conuert to bitter gall. If I prophane with my vnworthieſt hand, This holy ſhrine, the gentle ſin is this, My lips to bluſhing Pilgrims did ready ſtand, To ſmooth that rough touch, with a tender kiſſe. Good Pilgrime, You do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly deuotion ſhewes in this, For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kiſſe. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too? I Pilgrim, lips that they muſt vſe in prayer. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant thou) leaſt faith turne to diſpaire. Saints do not moue, Though grant for prayers ſake. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my ſin is purg'd. Then haue my lips the ſin that they haue tooke. Sin from my lips? O treſpaſſe ſweetly vrg'd: Giue me my ſin againe. You kiſſe by' th' booke. Madam your Mother craues a word with you. What is her Mother? Marrie Batcheler, Her Mother is the Lady of the houſe, And a good Lady, and a wiſe, and Vertuous, I Nur'ſt her Daughter that you talkt withall: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, Shall haue the chincks. Is ſhe a Capulet? O deare account! My life is my foes debt. Away, be gone, the ſport is at the beſt. I ſo I feare, the more is my vnreſt. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling fooliſh Banquet towards: Is it e'ne ſo? why then I thanke you all. I thanke you honeſt Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. Ah ſirrah, by my faie it waxes late, Ile to my reſt.