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 · 509 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Mistress, what Mistress? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lamb, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Love I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your pennyworths now. Sleep for a week, for the next night I warrant The County Paris hath set up his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgive me: Marry and Amen: how sound is she a sleep? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I, let the County take you in your bed, he'll fright you up i'faith. Will it not be? What dressed, and in your clothes, and down again? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, help, help, my Lady's dead, Oh welladay, that ever I was borne, Some Aquavitae ho, my Lord, my Lady? What noise is here? O lamentable day. What is the matter? Look, look, oh heavy day. O me, O me, my Child, my only life: Revive, look up, or I will die with thee: Help, help, call help. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come. she's dead: deceased, she's dead: alack the day. Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead. Ha'? Let me see her: out alas she's cold, Her blood is settled and her joints are stiff: Life and these lips have long been sep erated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. O Lamentable day! O woeful time. Death that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? Ready to go, but never to return. O Son, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death lain with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowered by him. Death is my Son in-law, death is my Heir, My Daughter he hath wedded, I will die, And leave him all life living, all is deaths. Have I thought long to see this morning's face, And doth it give me such a sight as this? Accursed, unhappy, wretched hateful day, Most miserable hour, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one poor one, one poor and loving Child, But one thing to rejoice and solace in, And cruel death hath catcht it from my sight. O woe, O woeful, woeful, woeful day, Most lamentable day, most woeful day, That ever, ever, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hateful day, Never was seen so black a day as this: O woeful day, O woeful day. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spighted, slain, Most detestable death by thee beguiled, By cruel, cruel thee, quite overthrown: O love, O life; not life, but love in death. Despised, distressed, hated, martyred, killed, Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murder, murder, our solemnity? O Child, O Child; my soul, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alack my Child is dead, And with my Child, my joys are buried.
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)
Miſtris, what Miſtris? Iuliet? Faſt I warrant her ſhe. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you ſluggabed, Why Loue I ſay? Madam, ſweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie Paris hath ſet vp his reſt, That you ſhall reſt but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how ſound is ſhe a ſleepe? I muſt needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What dreſt, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I muſt needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitae ho, my Lord, my Lady? What noiſe is heere? O lamentable day. What is the matter? Looke, looke, oh heauie day. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe. For ſhame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come. Shee's dead: deceaſt, ſhee's dead: alacke the day. Alacke the day, ſhee's dead, ſhee's dead, ſhee's dead. Ha? Let me ſee her: out alas ſhee's cold, Her blood is ſetled and her ioynts are ſtiffe: Life and theſe lips haue long bene ſep erated: Death lies on her like an vntimely froſt Vpon the ſweteſt flower of all the field. O Lamentable day! O wofull time. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me ſpeake. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there ſhe lies, Flower as ſhe was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in-law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded, I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths. Haue I thought long to ſee this mornings face, And doth it giue me ſuch a ſight as this? Accur'ſt, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Moſt miſerable houre, that ere time ſaw In laſting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and ſolace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my ſight. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Moſt lamentable day, moſt wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was ſeene ſo blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, ſpighted, ſlaine, Moſt deteſtable death by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue▪ O life; not life, but loue in death. Deſpis'd, diſtreſſed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'ſt thou now To murther, murther, our ſolemnitie? O Child, O Child; my ſoule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried.