Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T14 Royal love, favour and dynastic relation · 481 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T14: prince, princess, love, king, lord, queen, madam, grace, lady, life.
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, 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 just reproach? Marry 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 you are 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 spoken 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, Signior Benedick, friar.
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)
And ſeem'd I euer otherwiſe to you? Out on thee ſeeming, I will 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 diſhonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common ſtale. Are theſe things ſpoken, or doe 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 doe, as thou art my childe. O God defend me how am I beſet, What kinde of catechizing call you this? To make you anſwer truly to your name. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iuſt reproach? Marry that can Hero, Hero it ſelfe 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 maid, anſwer to this. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am ſorry you muſt heare: vpon mine honor, My ſelfe, my brother, and this grieued Count Did ſee her, heare her, at that howre laſt night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed 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 ſpoken of, There is not chaſtitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady I am ſorry for thy much miſgouernment. O Hero! what a Hero hadſt thou beene If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counſailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, moſt foule, moſt faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie, For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids ſhall Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty 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 ſink you down? Come, let vs go: theſe things come thus to light, Smother her ſpirits vp. How doth the Lady? Dead I thinke, helpe vncle, Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier.