Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Now I but chide: but I should use thee worse. For thou (I fear) hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast stain Lysander, in his sleep; Being over shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, & kill me to. The Sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me. Would he have stolen away, Frow sleeping Hermia? I'll believe, as soon, This whole earth may be bored, and that the Moon May through the Centre creep, and so displease Her brothers noontide, with th' Antipodes. It cannot be, but thou hast murdered him. So should a murderer look; so dead, so grim. So should the murdered look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart, with your stern cruelty. Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus, in her glimmering sphere. What's this to my Lysander? Where is he? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? I had rather give his carcase to my hounds. Out dog, out cur: thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him then? Henceforth be never numbered among men. O, once tell true: tell true, even for my sake: Durst thou have looked upon him, being awake? And hast thou killed him, sleeping? O brave touch! Can not a worm, an Adder do so much? An Adder did it: For with doubler tongue Than thine (thou serpent) never Adder stung. You spend your passion, on a misprised mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood: Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. I pray thee, tell me then, that he is well. And if I could, what should I get therefore? A privilege, never to see me more: And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more; Whether he be dead or no. There is no following her in this fierce vain. Hear therefore, for a while, I will remain. So sorrows heaviness doth heavier grow. For debt that bankrupt flippe doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay; If for his tender here I make some stay. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the love juice on some true loves sight. Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true love turned, and not a false turned true. Then fate o'errules, that one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath▪ About the wood, go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find. All fancy sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear. By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes, against she do appear. I go, I go, look how I go. Swifter than arrow, from the Tartars bow. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye, When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wakest, if she be by, Beg of her, for remedy.
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)
Now I but chide: but I should vse thee worse. For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse. If thou hast staine Lysander, in his sleepe; Being ore shooes in blood, plunge in the deepe, & kill mee to. The Sunne was not so true vnto the day, As hee to mee. Would hee haue stollen away, Frow sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue, as soone, This whole earth may be bor'd, and that the Moone May through the Center creepe, and so displease Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes. It cannot be, but thou hast murdred him. So should a murtherer looke; so dead, so grimme. So should the murthered looke, and so should I, Pearst through the heart, with your sterne cruelty. Yet you, the murtherer, looke as bright, as cleere, As yonder Venus, in her glimmering spheare. Whats this to my Lysander? Where is hee? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him mee? I had rather giue his carcasse to my hounds. Out dog, out curre: thou driu'st me past the bounds Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among men. O, once tell true: tell true, euen for my sake: Durst thou haue lookt vpon him, being awake? And hast thou kild him, sleeping? O braue tutch! Could not a worme, an Adder do so much? An Adder did it: For with doubler tongue Then thyne (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung. You spende your passion, on a mispris'd mood: I am not guilty of Lysanders bloode: Nor is he deade, for ought that I can tell. I pray thee, tell mee then, that he is well. And if I could, what should I get therefore? A priuiledge, neuer to see mee more: And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more; Whether he be dead or no. There is no following her in this fierce vaine. Heere therefore, for a while, I will remaine. So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier growe. For debt that bankrout flippe doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay; If for his tender here I make some stay. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite, And laid the loue iuice on some true loues sight. Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true loue turnd, and not a false turnd true. Then fate orerules, that one man holding troth, A million faile, confounding oath on oath▪ About the wood, goe swifter then the winde, And Helena of Athens looke thou finde. All fancy sicke she is and pale of cheere, With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh blood deare. By some illusion see thou bring her here: Ile charme his eyes, against she doe appeare. I goe, I goe, looke how I goe. Swifter then arrow, from the Tartars bowe. Flower of this purple dy, Hit with Cupids archery, Sinke in apple of his eye, When his loue he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st, if she be by, Begge of her, for remedy.