Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour typicality 0.82 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
And seemed I ever otherwise to you? Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seem to me as Diane in her Orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampered animals, That rage in savage sensuality. Is my Lord well that he doth speak so wide? Sweet prince, why speak not you? What should I speak? I stand dishonoured that have gone about, To link my dear friend to a common stale. Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. This looks not like a nuptial. True, O God Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eyes our own? All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Let me but move one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you have in her, bid her answer truly. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. O God defend me how am I beset, What kind of catechizing call you this? To make you answer truly to your name. Is it not Hero, who can blot that name With any just reproach? Mary that can Hero, Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. What man was he talked with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? Now if you are a maid, answer to this. I talked with no man at that hour my lord, Why then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, Myself, my brother, and this grieved Count Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, Talk with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberal villain, Confessed the vile encounters they have had A thousand times in secret. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my lord, Not to be spoke of, There is not chastity enough in language, Without offence to utter them: thus pretty lady, I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou been, If halfe thy outward graces had been placed, About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart? But far thee well, most foul, most fair, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious purity, For thee i'll lock up all the gates of love. And on my eyelids shall Conjecture hang, To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, And never shall it more be gracious. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me. Why how now cousin, wherefore sink you down? Come let us go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits up. How doth the Lady? Dead I think, help uncle, Hero, why Hero, uncle, signor Benedick, Friar.
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)
And seemde I euer otherwise to you? Out on thee seeming, I wil write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe, As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls, That rage in sauage sensualitie. Is my Lord well that he doth speake so wide? Sweete prince, why speake not you? What should I speake? I stand dishonourd that haue gone about, To lincke my deare friend to a common stale. Are these things spoken, or do I but dreame? Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. This lookes not like a nuptiall. True, O God! Leonato, stand I here? Is this the prince? is this the princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne? All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue in her, bid her answer truly. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. O God defend me how am I beset, What kind of catechising call you this? To make you answer truly to your name. Is it not Hero, who can blot that name With any iust reproch? Mary that can Hero, Hero itselfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he talkt with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you are a maide, answer to this. I talkt with no man at that hower my lord, Why then are you no maiden. Leonato, I am sory you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Counte Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeede most like a liberall villaine, Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my lord, Not to be spoke of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty lady, I am sory for thy much misgouernement. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou bin, If halfe thy outward graces had bin placed, About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impietie, and impious puritie, For thee ile locke vp all the gates of Loue. And on my eie-liddes shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beautie into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me. Why how now cosin, wherfore sinke you down? Come let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp. How doth the Lady? Dead I thinke, help vncle, Hero, why Hero, vncle, signior Benedicke, Frier.