Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1597 [c.1597-1598] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation typicality 0.77 · 475 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
They say Poines hath a good Wit. He a good Wit? hang him Baboon, his Wit is as thick as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit in him, then is in a Mallet. Why doth the Prince love him so then? Because their Legs are both of a bigness: and he plays at Quoits well and eats Conger and Fennell, and drinks off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides the wilde-Mare with the Boys, and jumps upon Ioyn'dstooles, and swears with a good grace, and wears his Boot very smooth, like unto the Sign of the Leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories: and such other Gambol Faculties he hath, 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 an hair will turn the Scales between their Haber-de-pois. Would not this Nave of a Wheel have his Ears cut off? Let us beat him before his Whore. Look, if the withered Elder hath not his Poll clawed like a Parrot. Is it not strange, that Desire should so many years outlive performance? Kiss me Dol. Saturn and Venus this year in Conjunction? What says the Almanac to that? And look whether the fiery Trigon, his Man, be not lisping to his Master's old Tables, his Notebook, his Council-keeper? Thou dost give me flattering Busses. Nay truly, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. I am old, I am old. I love thee better, than I love ere a scurvy young Boy of them all. What Stuffe wilt thou have a Kirtle of? I shall receive Money on Thursday: thou shalt have a Cap to morrow. A merry Song, come: it grows late, we will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone. Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou sayst so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome, till thy return: well, harken the end. Some Sack, Francis. Anon, anon, Sir. Ha'? a Bastard Son of the Kings? And art not thou Poines, his Brother? Why thou Globe of sinful Continents, what a Life dost thou lead? A better than thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Ears. Oh, the Lord preserve thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now Heaven bless that sweet Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales? Thou whoreson mad Compound of Majesty: by this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome. How? you fat Fool, I scorn you. My Lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat. You whoreson Candle-myne you, how vildly did you speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil Gentlewoman?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 752–780 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 21 of 51 in this edition
Length
475 words · 659 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T14 — Royal love, favour and dynastic relationshipscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.775 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T14 · seed 44: T9 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They ſay Poines hath a good Wit. Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is as thicke as Tewksburie Muſtard: there is no more conceit in him, hen is in a Mallet. Why doth the Prince loue him ſo then? Becauſe their Legges are both of a bigneſſe: and hee playes at Quoits well and eates Conger and Fennell, and drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides the wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'd-ſtooles, and ſweares with a good grace, and weares his Boot very ſmooth, like vnto the Signe of the Legge; and breedes no bate with telling of diſcreete ſtories: and ſuch other Gamboll Faculties hee hath, that ſhew a weake Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits him; for the Prince himſelfe is ſuch another: the weight of an hayre will turne the Scales betweene their Haber-de-pois. Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his Eares cut off? Let vs beat him before his Whore. Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll claw'd like a Parrot. Is it not ſtrange, that Deſire ſhould ſo many yeeres out-liue performance? Kiſſe me Dol. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction? What ſayes the Almanack to that? And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man, be not liſping to his Maſters old Tables, his Note-Booke, his Councell-keeper? Thou do'ſt giue me flatt'ring Buſſes. Nay truely, I kiſſe thee with a moſt conſtant heart. I am olde, I am olde. I loue thee better, then I loue ere a ſcuruie young Boy of them all. What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I ſhall receiue Money on Thurſday: thou ſhalt haue a Cappe to morrow. A merrie Song, come: it growes late, wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone. Thou wilt ſet me a weeping, if thou ſay'ſt ſo: proue that euer I dreſſe my ſelfe handſome, till thy returne: well, hearken the end. Some Sack, Francis. Anon, anon, Sir. Ha? a Baſtard Sonne of the Kings? And art not thou Poines, his Brother? Why thou Globe of ſinfull Continents, what a Life do'ſt thou lead? A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Eares. Oh, the Lord preſerue thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now Heauen bleſſe that ſweete Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales? Thou whorſon mad Compound of Maieſtie: by this light Fleſh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome. How? you fat Foole, I ſcorne you. My Lord, hee will driue you out of your reuenge, and turne all to a merryment, if you take not the heat. You whorſon Candle-myne you, how vildly did you ſpeake of me euen now, before this honeſt, vertuous, ciuill Gentlewoman?