Shakespeare, William · published 1600 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
But, all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images, And grows to something of great constancy: But howsoever, strange and admirable. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. joy, gentle friends, joy and fresh days Of love accompany your hearts. More than to us, wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed. Come now: what masks, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours, between Or after supper, & bedtime? Where is our usual manager Of mirth? What Revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. Here mighty Theseus. Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What mask, what music? How shall we be guile The lazy time, if not with some delight? There is a brief, how many sports are ripe. Make choice, of which your Highness will see first. The battle with the Centaurs to be sung, By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harp? we'll none of that, That have I told my love, in glory of my kinsman Hercules▪ The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage? That is an old device: and it was played, When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death Of learning, late deceased, in beggary? That is some Satire keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. A tedious brief Scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth? Merry, and tragical? Tedious, and brief? That is hot Ice, And wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord Of this discord? A Play there is, my Lord, some ten words long; Which is as brief, as I have known a play: But, by ten words, my Lord it is too long: Which makes it tedious. For in all the Play, There is not one word apt, one player fitted. And tragical, my noble Lord, it is. For Pyramus, Therein, doth kill himself. Which when I saw Rehearsed, I must confess, made mine eyes water: But more merry tears the passion of loud laughter Never shed. What are they, that do play it? Hard handed men, that work in Athens here, Which never laboured in their minds till now: And now have toiled their unbreathed memories, With this same Play, against your nuptial. And we will hear it. No, my noble Lord, it is not for you. I have heard It over, and it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretched, and con with cruel pain, To do you service. I will hear that play. For never any thing Can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it. Go bring them in, and take your places, Ladies. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged; And duty, in his service, perishing. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.
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)
But, all the story of the night told ouer, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancies images, And growes to something of great constancy: But howsouer, strange and admirable. Here come the louers, full of ioy and mirth. Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh daies Of loue accompany your hearts. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes, your boorde, your bedde. Come now: what maskes, what daunces shall wee haue, To weare away this long age of three hours, betweene Or after supper, & bed-time? Where is our vsuall manager Of mirth? What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hower? Call Philostrate. Here mighty Theseus. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening? What maske, what musicke? How shall we be guile The lazy tyme, if not with some delight? There is a briefe, how many sports are ripe. Make choyce, of which your Highnesse will see first. The battell with the Centaures to be sung, By an Athenian Eunuche, to the Harpe? Weele none of that, That haue I tolde my loue, in glory of my kinsman Hercules ▪ The ryot of the tipsie Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage? That is an olde deuise: and it was plaid, When I from Thebes came last a conquerer. The thrise three Muses, mourning for the death Of learning, late deceast, in beggery? That is some Satire keene and criticall, Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremony. A tedious briefe Scene of young Pyramus And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth? Merry, and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is hot Ise, And wōdrous strange snow. How shall we find the cōcord Of this discord? A Play there is, my Lord, some ten words long; Which is as briefe, as I haue knowne a play: But, by ten words, my Lord it is too long: Which makes it tedious. For in all the Play, There is not one word apt, one player fitted. And tragicall, my noble Lord, it is. For Pyramus, Therein, doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water: But more merry teares the passion of loud laughter Neuer shed. What are they, that doe play it? Hard handed men, that worke in Athens here, Which neuer labour'd in their minds till now: And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories, With this same Play, against your nuptiall. And wee will heare it. No, my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world; Vnlesse you can finde sport in their entents, Extreamely stretcht, and cond with cruell paine, To do you seruice. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duety tender it. Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged; And duety, in his seruice, perishing. Why, gentle sweete, you shall see no such thing.