Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.79 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O I am slain, if thou be merciful, Open the Tomb, lay me with Iuliet. In faith I will, let me peruse this face: Mercutius kinsman, Noble County Paris, What said my man, when my betossed soul Did not attend him as we road? I think He told me Paris should have married Iuliet. Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Iuliet, To think it was so? O give me thy hand, One, writ with me in sour misfortunes book. I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave. A Grave; O no, a Lantern; slaughtered Youth: For here lies Iuliet, and her beauty makes This Vault a feasting presence full of light. Death lie thou there, by a dead man interred. How oft when men are at the point of death, Have they been merry? Which their Keepers call A lightning before death? Oh how may I Call this a lightning? O my Love, my Wife, Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy Beauty: Thou are not conquered: Beauties ensign yet Is Crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And Death's pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O what more favour can I do to thee, Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twain, To sunder his that was thy enemy? Forgive me Cozen. Ah dear Iuliet: Why art thou yet so fair? I will believe, Shall I believe, that unsubstantial death is amorous? And that the lean abhorred Monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his Paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, And never from this Palace of dim night Depart again: come lie thou in my arms, here's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in. O true Appothecarie! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. Depart again; here, here will I remain, With Worms that are thy Chambermaids: O here Will I set up my everlasting rest: And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world wearied flesh: Eyes look your last: Arms take your last embrace: And lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death: Come bitter conduct, come unsavoury guide, Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sick weary Bark: here's to my Love.. O true Appothecary: Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night Have my old feet stumbled at graves? Who's there? Here's one, a Friend, & one that knows you well. Bliss be upon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond that vainly lends his light To grubs, and eyeless sculls? As I discern, It burneth in the Capulets Monument.
nodes 2574–2633 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 45 of 48 in this edition
Length
487 words · 655 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.788 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O I am ſlaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet. In faith I will, let me peruſe this face: Mercutius kinſman, Noble Countie Paris, What ſaid my man, when my betoſſed ſoule Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke He told me Paris ſhould haue married Iuliet. Said he not ſo? Or did I dreame it ſo? Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet, To thinke it was ſo? O giue me thy hand, One, writ with me in ſowre misfortunes booke. Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue. A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; ſlaughtred Youth: For here lies Iuliet, and her beautie makes This Vault a feaſting preſence full of light. Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd. How oft when men are at the point of death, Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call A lightning before death? Oh how may I Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, Death that hath ſuckt the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie: Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties enſigne yet Is Crymſon in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there. Tybalt, ly'ſt thou there in thy bloudy ſheet? O what more fauour can I do to thee, Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, To ſunder his that was thy enemie? Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet: Why art thou yet ſo faire? I will beleeue, Shall I beleeue, that vnſubſtantiall death is amorous? And that the leane abhorred Monſter keepes Thee here in darke to be his Paramour? For feare of that, I ſtill will ſtay with thee, And neuer from this Pallace of dym night Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumbleſt in. O true Appothecarie! Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiſſe I die. Depart againe; here, here will I remaine, With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here Will I ſet vp my euerlaſting reſt: And ſhake the yoke of inauſpicious ſtarres From this world wearied fleſh: Eyes looke your laſt: Armes take your laſt embrace: And lips, O you The doores of breath, ſeale with a righteous kiſſe A dateleſſe bargaine to ingroſſing death: Come bitter conduct, come vnſauoury guide, Thou deſperate Pilot, now at once run on The daſhing Rocks, thy Sea-ſicke wearie Barke: Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary: Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kiſſe I die. St. Francis be my ſpeed, how oft to night Haue my old feet ſtumbled at graues? Who's there? Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well. Bliſſe be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light To grubs, and eyeleſſe Sculle? As I diſcerne, It burneth in the Capels Monument.