Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 461 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: Thy tears are womanish, thy wild acts denote The unreasonable Fury of a beast. Unseemly woman, in a seeming man, And ill beseeming beast in seeming both, Thou hast amazed me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better tempered. Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By doing damned hate upon thyself? Why rail'st thou on thy birth? the heaven and earth? Since birth, and heaven and earth, all three do meet In thee at once, which thou at once wouldst lose. Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy wit, Which like a Usurer aboundest in all: And usest none in that true use indeed, Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: Thy Noble shape, is but a form of wax, Digressing from the Valour of a man, Thy dear Love sworn but hollow perjury, Killing that Love which thou hast vowed to cherish. Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Love, misshapen in the conduct of them both: Like powder in a skilless Soldiers' flask, Is set a fire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismembered with thine own defence. What, rouse thee man, thy Iuliet is alive, For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt, there art thou happy. The law that threatened death became thy Friend, And turned it to exile, there art thou happy. A pack or blessing light upon thy back, Happiness Courts thee in her best array, But like a misshaped and sullen wench, Thou puttest up thy Fortune and thy Love: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Go get thee to thy Love as was decreed, Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But look thou stay not till the watch be set, For than thou canst not pass to Mantua, Where thou shalt live till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee back, With twenty hundred thousand times more joy Than thou wentest forth in lamentation. Go before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto. Romeo is coming. O Lord, I could have stayed here all night, To hear good counsel: oh what learning is! My Lord I'll tell my Lady you will come. Do so, and bid my Sweet prepare to chide. here sir, a Ring she bid me give you sir: Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. How well my comfort is revived by this.
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)
Hold thy deſperate hand: Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: Thy teares are womaniſh, thy wild acts denote The vnreaſonable Furie of a beaſt. Vnſeemely woman, in a ſeeming man, And ill beſeeming beaſt in ſeeming both, Thou haſt amaz'd me. By my holy order, I thought thy diſpoſition better temper'd. Haſt thou ſlaine Tybalt? wilt thou ſlay thy ſelfe? And ſlay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By doing damned hate vpon thy ſelfe? Why rayl'ſt thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete In thee at once, which thou at once would'ſt looſe. Fie, fie, thou ſham'ſt thy ſhape, thy loue, thy wit, Which like a Vſurer abound'ſt in all: And vſeſt none in that true vſe indeed, Which ſhould bedecke thy ſhape, thy loue, thy wit: Thy Noble ſhape, is but a forme of waxe, Digreſſing from the Valour of a man, Thy deare Loue ſworne but hollow periurie, Killing that Loue which thou haſt vow'd to cheriſh. Thy wit, that Ornament, to ſhape and Loue, Miſhapen in the conduct of them both: Like powder in a skilleſſe Souldiers flaske, Is ſet a fire by thine owne ignorance, And thou diſmembred with thine owne defence. What, rowſe thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue, For whoſe deare ſake thou waſt but lately dead. There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou ſlew'ſt Tybalt, there art thou happie. The law that threatned death became thy Friend, And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. A packe or bleſſing light vpon thy backe, Happineſſe Courts thee in her beſt array, But like a miſhaped and ſullen wench, Thou putteſt vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: Take heed, take heed, for ſuch die miſerable. Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed, Aſcend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But looke thou ſtay not till the watch be ſet, For then thou canſt not paſſe to Mantua, Where thou ſhalt liue till we can finde a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe, With twenty hundred thouſand times more ioy Then thou went'ſt forth in lamentation. Goe before Nurſe, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her haſten all the houſe to bed, Which heauy ſorrow makes them apt vnto. Romeo is comming. O Lord, I could haue ſtaid here all night, To heare good counſell: oh what learning is! My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come. Do ſo, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide. Heere ſir, a Ring ſhe bid me giue you ſir: Hie you, make haſt, for it growes very late. How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this.