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 · 496 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.
O Villain, thou stolest a Cup of Sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore: thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what instinct hadst thou for it? My Lord, do you see these Meteors? do you behold these Exhalations? I do. What think you they portend? Hot Livers, and cold Purses. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken. No, if rightly taken, Halter. here comes lean Iacke, here comes bare-bone. How now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't ago, Iacke, since thou saw'st thine own Knee? My own Knee? When I was about thy years (Hal) I was not an eagle's Talon in the Waste, I could have crept into any Alderman's Thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief, it blows a man up like a Bladder. There's villainous News abroad: here was Sir Iohn Braby from your Father; you must go to the Court in the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Devil his true Liegeman upon the Cross of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him? O, Glendower. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Son in Law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runs a Horseback up a Hill perpendicular. He that rides at high speed, and with a Pistol kills a Sparrow flying. You have hit it. So did he never the Sparrow. Well, that Rascal hath good metal in him, he will not run. Why, what a Rascal art thou then, to praise him so for running? A Horseback (ye Cuckoo) but a foot he will not budge a foot. Yes Iacke, upon instinct. I grant ye, upon instinct: Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolen away by Night: thy Father's Beard is turned white with the News; you may buy Land now as cheap as stinking Mackerel. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sun, and this civil buffetting hold, we shall buy Maidenheads as they buy Hobnails, by the Hundreds. By the Mass Lad, thou sayst true, it is like we shall have good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afeared? thou being Heir apparent, could the World pick thee out three such Enemies again, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Devil Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? Not a whit: I lack some of thy instinct. Well, thou wilt be horrible chid to morrow, when thou comest to thy Father: if thou do love me, practise an answer. Do thou stand for my Father, and examine me upon the particulars of my Life. Shall I? content: This Chair shall be my State, this Dagger my Sceptre, and this Cushion my Crown.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T30 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O Villaine, thou ſtoleſt a Cup of Sacke eighteene yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and euer ſince thou haſt bluſht extempore: thou hadſt fire and ſword on thy ſide, and yet thou ranſt away; what inſtinct hadſt thou for it? My Lord, doe you ſee theſe Meteors? doe you behold theſe Exhalations? I doe. What thinke you they portend? Hot Liuers, and cold Purſes. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken. No, if rightly taken, Halter. Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How now my ſweet Creature of Bombaſt, how long is't agoe, Iacke, ſince thou ſaw'ſt thine owne Knee? My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres (Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waſte, I could haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague of ſighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder. There's villanous Newes abroad: heere was Sir Iohn Braby from your Father; you muſt goe to the Court in the Morning. The ſame mad fellow of the North, Percy; and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Baſtinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and ſwore the Deuill his true Liege-man vpon the Croſſe of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him? O, Glendower. Owen, Owen; the ſame, and his Sonne in Law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the ſprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horſe-backe vp a Hill perpendicular. Hee that rides at high ſpeede, and with a Piſtoll kills a Sparrow flying. You haue hit it. So did he neuer the Sparrow. Well, that Raſcall hath good mettall in him, hee will not runne. Why, what a Raſcall art thou then, to prayſe him ſo for running? A Horſe-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will not budge a foot. Yes Iacke, vpon inſtinct. I grant ye, vpon inſtinct: Well, hee is there too, and one Mordake, and a thouſand blew-Cappes more. Worceſter is ſtolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now as cheape as ſtinking Mackrell. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this ciuill buffetting hold, wee ſhall buy Maiden-heads as they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds. By the Maſſe Lad, thou ſay'ſt true, it is like wee ſhall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant, could the World picke thee out three ſuch Enemyes againe, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? Not a whit: I lacke ſome of thy inſtinct. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow, when thou commeſt to thy Father: if thou doe loue me, practiſe an anſwere. Doe thou ſtand for my Father, and examine mee vpon the particulars of my Life. Shall I? content: This Chayre ſhall bee my State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cuſhion my Crowne.