Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
Quaite him down Bardolfe like a shove-groat shilling, nay, and a do nothing but speak nothing, a shall be nothing here. Come, get you down stairs. What shall we have incision? shall we embrew? then death rock me a sleep, abridge my doleful days: why then let grievons ghastly gaping wounds untwined the sister's three, come Atropose I say. Here's goodly stuff toward. Give me my rapier, boy. I pray thee Iacke, I pray thee do not draw. Get you down stairs. Here's a goodly tumult, i'll forswear keeping house afore i'll be in these tirrits and frights, so, murder I warrant now, alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. I pray thee Iack be quiet, the rascal's gone, ah you whoreson little vliaunt villain you. Are you not hurt i'th' groin? me thought a made a shrewd thrust at your belly. Have you turned him out a doors? Yea sir, the rascal's drunk, you have hurt him sir i'th' shoulder. A rascal to brave me? A you sweet little rogue you, alas poor ape how thou sweat'st, come let me wipe thy face, come on you horsone chaps: a rogue, i'faith I love thee, thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, & ten times better than the nine Worthies, a villain! Ah rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. Do and thou darest for thy heart, and thou dost, i'll canvas thee between a pair of sheets. The music is come sir. Let them play, play sirs, sit on my knee Doll, a rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver. I'faith and thou followdst him like a church, thou whoreson little tydee Bartholemew borepigge, when wilt thou leave sighting a days and foining a nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven. Peace good Doll, do not speak like a deaths head, do not bid me remember mine end. Sirrah, what humour's the prince of? A good shallow young fellow, a would have made a good pantler, a would a chipped bread well. They say Poines has a good wit. He a good wit▪ hang him baboon, his wit's as thick as Tewksbury mustard, there's no more conceit in him then is in a mallet. Why does the prince love him so then? Because their legs are both of a bigness▪ and a plays at quoites well, and eats cunger and fennel, and drinks off candle's ends for slappe-dragons, and rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon joind-stooles, and swears with a good grace, and wears his boots very smooth like unto the sign of the Leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambole faculties a has that show a weak mind, and an able body for the which the prince admits him: for the prince himself is such another, the weight of a hair will turn scales between their haber de poiz.
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)
Quaite him downe Bardolfe like a shoue-groat shilling, nay, and a doe nothing but speake nothing, a shall be nothing here. Come, get you downe staires. What shall we haue incision? shall we imbrew? then death rocke me a sleepe, abridge my dolefull daies: why then let grieuons gastly gaping wounds vntwinde the sisters three, come Atropose I say. Heres goodly stuffe toward. Giue me my rapier, boy. I pray thee Iacke, I pray thee do not drawe. Get you downe staires. Heres a goodly tumult, ile forsweare keeping house afore ile be in these tirrits and frights, so, murder I warant now, alas, alas, put vp your naked weapons, put vp your naked weapons. I pray thee Iack be quiet, the rascal's gone, ah you horson little vliaunt villaine you. Are you not hurte i'th groyne? me thought a made a shrewd thrust at your belly. Haue you turnd him out a doores? Yea sir, the rascal's drunke, you haue hurt him sir i'th shoulder. A rascall to braue me? A you sweet little rogue you, alas poore ape how thou sweatst, come let me wipe thy face, come on you horsone chops: a rogue, yfaith I loue thee, thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, woorth fiue of Agamemnon, & ten times better then the nine Worthies, a villaine! Ah rascally slaue! I will tosse the rogue in a blanket. Do and thou darst for thy heart, and thou dost, ile canuas thee betweene a payre of sheetes. The musique is come sir. Let them play, play sirs, sit on my knee Doll, a rascall bragging slaue! the rogue fled from me like quicksiluer. Yfaith and thou followdst him like a church, thou horson little tydee Bartholemew borepigge, when wilt thou leaue sighting a daies and foyning a nights, and begin to patch vp thine old body for heauen. Peace good Doll, do not speake like a deathes head, do not bid me remember mine end. Sirra, what humour's the prince of? A good shallow yong fellow, a would haue made a good pantler, a would a chipt bread wel. They say Poine has a good wit. He a good wit▪ hang him baboon, his wit's as thicke as Tewksbury mustard, theres no more conceit in him then is in a mallet. Why does the prince loue him so then? Because their legges are both of a bignesse▪ and a plaies at quoites well, and eates cunger and fennel, and drinkes off candles endes for slappe-dragons, and rides the wilde mare with the boyes, and iumpes vpon ioynd-stooles, and sweares with a good grace, and weares his bootes very smoothe like vnto the signe of the Legge, and breedes no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambole faculties a has that show a weake minde, and an able bodie for the which the prince admits him: for the prince himself is such another, the weight of a haire wil turne scales between their haber de poiz.