Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T49 Wooing a mistress: suitors, go-betweens · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T49: mistress, gentleman, love, lady, woman, pray, gentlewoman, hear, honest, way.
They did entreat me to acquaint her of it, But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, To wish him wrestle with affection, And never to let Beatrice know of it. Why did you so, doth not the gentleman Deserve as full as fortunate a bed, As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? O God of love! I know he doth deserve, As much as may be yielded to a man: But nature never framed a woman's heart, Of prouder stuff then that of Beatrice: Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprising what they look on, and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self endeared. Sure I think so, And therefore certainly it were not good, She knew his love lest she'll make sport at it. Why you speak truth, I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured. But she would spell him backward: if fair faced, She would swear the gentleman should be her sister: If black, why Nature drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill headed: If low, an agate very vildly cut: If speaking why a vane blown with all winds: If silent, why a block moved with none: So turns she every man the wrong side out, And never gives to Truth and Virtue, that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. No not to be so odd, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable, But who dare tell her so? if I should speak, She would mock me into air, O she would laugh me Out of myself press me to death with wit, Therefore let Benedick like covered fire, Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: It were a better death, then die with mocks, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. No rather I will go to Benedick, And counsel him to fight against his passion, And truly i'll devise some honest slanders, To stain my cousin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. O do not do your cousin such a wrong, She cannot be so much without true judgement, Having so swift and excellent a wit, As she is prised to have, as to refuse So rare a gentleman as signor Benedick. He is the only man of Italy, Always excepted my dear Claudio. I pray you be not angry with me, madame, Speaking my fancy: signor Benedick, For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes foremost in report through Italy. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it: When are you married madame?
seed 43: T56 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
They did intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'de Benedicke, To wish him wrastle with affection, And neuer to let Beatrice know of it. Why did you so, dooth not the gentleman Deserue as full as fortunate a bed, As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon? O God of loue! I know he doth deserue, As much as may be yeelded to a man: But nature neuer framde a womans hart, Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice: Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eies, Misprising what they looke on, and her wit Valewes it selfe so highly, that to her All matter els seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection, She is so selfe indeared. Sure I thinke so, And therefore certainely it were not good, She knew his loue lest sheele make sport at it. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featured. But she would spel him backward: if faire faced, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If blacke, why Nature drawing of an antique, Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildly cut: If speaking why a vane blowne with all winds: If silent, why a blocke moued with none: So turnes she euery man the wrong side out, And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that Which simplenesse and merite purchaseth. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. No not to be so odde, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable, But who dare tell her so? if I should speake, She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me Out of my selfe presse me to death with wit, Therefore let Benedicke like couerd fire, Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly: It were a better death, then die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with tickling. Yet tel her of it, heare what she wil say. No rather I will go to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight against his passion, And truly ile deuise some honest slaunders, To staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking. O do not do your cosin such a wrong, She cannot be so much without true iudgement, Hauing so swift and excellent a wit, As she is prisde to haue▪ as to refuse So rare a gentleman as signior Benedicke. He is the onely man of Italy, Alwaies excepted my deare Claudio. I pray you be not angry with me, madame, Speaking my fancy: signior Benedicke, For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy. Indeed he hath an excellent good name. His excellence did earne it, ere he had it: When are you married madame?