Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.86 · 470 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
O why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse. For thou (I fear) hast given me cause to curse, If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being over shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, and kill me too: The Sun was not so true unto the day, As he to me. Would he have stolen away, From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be board, and that the Moon May through the Centre creep, and so displease Her brothers noonetide, with th' Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdered him, So should a mutrherer look, so dead, so grim. So should the murderer look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you the murderer looks 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'd 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, Oh, once tell true, even for my sake, Durst thou a 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 mispri'sd 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, Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrows heaviness doth heavier grow: For debt that bankrupt slip 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 love's sight: Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true love turned, and not a false turned true. Then fate overrules, 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 doth appear.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 878–933 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 33 in this edition
Length
470 words · 617 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.862 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
O why rebuke you him that loues you ſo? Lay breath ſo bitter on your bitter foe. Now I but chide, but I ſhould vſe thee worſe. For thou (I feare) haſt giuen me cauſe to curſe, If thou haſt ſlaine Lyſander in his ſleepe, Being ore ſhooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill me too: The Sunne was not ſo true vnto the day, As he to me. Would he haue ſtollen away, From ſleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as ſoone This whole earth may be bord, 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 mutrherer looke, ſo dead, ſo grim. So ſhould the murderer looke, and ſo ſhould I, Pierſt through the heart with your ſtearne cruelty: Yet you the murderer looks as bright as cleare, As yonder Ʋenus in her glimmering ſpheare. What's this to my Lyſander? where is he? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me? I'de rather giue his carkaſſe to my hounds. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'ſt me paſt the bounds Of maidens patience. Haſt thou ſlaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among men, Oh, once tell true, euen for my ſake, Durſt thou a lookt vpon him, being awake? And haſt thou kill'd him ſleeping? O braue tutch: Could not a worme, an Adder do ſo much? An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue Then thine (thou ſerpent) neuer Adder ſtung. You ſpend your paſſion on a miſpri'sd mood, I am not guiltie of Lyſanders blood: Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell. I pray thee tell me then that he is well. And if I could, what ſhould I get therefore? A priuiledge, neuer 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 vaine, Here therefore for a while I will remaine. So ſorrowes heauineſſe doth heauier grow: For debt that bankrout ſlip 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 iuyce on ſome true loues ſight: Of thy miſpriſion, muſt perforce enſue Some true loue turn'd, and not a falſe turn'd true. Then fate ore-rules, 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 bloud deare. By ſome illuſion ſee thou bring her heere, Ile charme his eyes againſt ſhe doth appeare.