Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1596-1597] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 493 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true bred Cowards as ever turned back: and for the third if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear Arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this fat Rogue will tell us, when we meet at Supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what Wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this, lies the jest. Well, I'll go with thee, provide us all things necessary, and meet me to morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. Farewell, my Lord. I know you all, and will awhile uphold The vnyoaked humour of your idleness: Yet herein will I imitate the Sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his Beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wondered at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport, would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wished-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this lose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised; By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes, And like bright metal on a sullen ground: My reformation glittering o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, Then that which hath no soil to set it off. I'll so offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time, when men think lest I will. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me; for accordingly, You tread upon my patience: But be sure, I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty, and to be feared, than my condition Which hath been smooth as Oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that Title of respect, Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. Our house (my Sovereign Liege) little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it, And that same greatness too, which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. My Lord. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And Majesty might never yet endure The moody Frontier of a servant brow, You have good leave to leave us. When we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. You were about to speak. Yea, my good Lord. Those Prisoners in your Highness demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were (as he says) not with such strength denied As was delivered to your Majesty: Who either through envy, or misprision, Was guilty of this fault; and not my Son.
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)
Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer then he ſees reaſon, Ile forſwear Armes. The vertue of this Ieſt will be, the incomprehenſible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper: how thirty at leaſt he fought with, what Wardes, what blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe of this, lyes the ieſt. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things neceſſary, and meete me to morrow night in Eaſtcheape, there Ile ſup. Farewell. Farewell, my Lord. I know you all, and will a-while vphold The vnyoak'd humor of your idleneſſe: Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne, Who doth permit the baſe contagious cloudes To ſmother vp his Beauty from the world, That when he pleaſe againe to be himſelfe, Being wanted, he may be more wondred at, By breaking through the foule and vgly miſts Of vapours, that did ſeeme to ſtrangle him. If all the yeare were playing holidaies, To ſport, would be as tedious as to worke; But when they ſeldome come, they wiſht-for come, And nothing pleaſeth but rare accidents. So when this looſe behauiour I throw off, And pay the debt I neuer promiſed; By how much better then my word I am, By ſo much ſhall I falſifie mens hopes, And like bright Mettall on a ſullen ground: My reformation glittering o're my fault, Shall ſhew more goodly, and attract more eyes, Then that which hath no ſoyle to ſet it off. Ile ſo offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time, when men thinke leaſt I will. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate, Vnapt to ſtirre at theſe indignities, And you haue found me; for accordingly, You tread vpon my patience: But be ſure, I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe, Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition Which hath beene ſmooth as Oyle, ſoft as yong Downe, And therefore loſt that Title of reſpect, Which the proud ſoule ne're payes, but to the proud. Our houſe (my Soueraigne Liege) little deſerues The ſcourge of greatneſſe to be vſed on it, And that ſame greatneſſe too, which our owne hands Haue holpe to make ſo portly. My Lord. Worceſter get thee gone: for I do ſee Danger and diſobedience in thine eye. O ſir, your preſence is too bold and peremptory, And Maieſtie might neuer yet endure The moody Frontier of a ſeruant brow, You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need Your vſe and counſell, we ſhall ſend for you. You were about to ſpeake. Yea, my good Lord. Thoſe Priſoners in your Highneſſe demanded, Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke, Were (as he ſayes) not with ſuch ſtrength denied As was deliuered to your Maieſty: Who either through enuy, or miſpriſion, Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne.