Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1596 [1594-1596] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 504 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Why all these should be in the Lantern: for they are in the Moon. But silence, here comes Thisbe. This is old Ninnies tomb: where is my love? Oh. Well roared Lion. Well run Thisbe. Well shone Moon. Truly the Moon shines with a good grace. Well mouzed Lion. And then came Pyramus. And so the Lion vanished. Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams, I thank thee Moon, for shining now so bright: For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beams, I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight. But stay: O spite! but mark, poor Knight, What dreadful dole is here? Eyes do you see! How can it be! O dainty Duck: O Dear! Thy mantle good; what stained with blood! Approach you Furies fell: O Fates! come, come: Cut thread and thrum, Quail, crush, conclude, and quell. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, Would go near to make a man look sad. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. O wherefore Nature, didst thou Lions frame? Since Lion vild hath here deflowered my dear: Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer. Come tears, confound: Out sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus: I, that left pap, where heart doth hop; Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soul is in the sky, Tongue lose thy light, Moon take thy flight, Now dye, die, die, die, die. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one. Less than an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing. With the help of a Surgeon, he might yet recover, and prove an Ass. How chance Moonshine is gone before? Thisbe comes back, and finds her Lover. She will find him by starlight. here she comes, and her passion ends the play. Me thinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. A Moth will turn the balance, which Pyramus which Thisbe is the better. She hath spied him already, with those sweet eyes. And thus she means, videlicit. Asleep my Love? What, dead my Dove? O Pyramus arise: Speak. Speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These Lily Lips, this cherry nose, These yellow Cowslip cheeks Are gone, are gone: Lovers make moon: His eyes were green as Leeks. O sisters three, come, come to me, With hands as pale as Milk, Lay them in gore, since you have shore With shears, his thread of silk. Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword: Come blade, my breast imbrue: And farewell friends, thus Thisbie ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu. Moonshine & Lion are left to bury the dead. I, and Wall too. No, I assure you, the wall is down, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between two of our company?
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)
Why all theſe ſhould be in the Lanthorne: for they are in the Moone. But ſilence, heere comes Thisby. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue? Oh. Well roar'd Lion. Well run Thisby. Well ſhone Moone. Truly the Moone ſhines with a good grace. Wel mouz'd Lion. And then came Piramus. And ſo the Lion vaniſht. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy ſunny beames, I thanke thee Moone, for ſhining now ſo bright: For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames, I truſt to taſte of trueſt Thisbies ſight. But ſtay: O ſpight! but marke, poore Knight, What dreadful dole is heere? Eyes do you ſee! How can it be! O dainty Ducke: O Deere! Thy mantle good; what ſtaind with blood! Approch you Furies fell: O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum, Quaile, cruſh, conclude, and quell. This paſſion, and the death of a deare friend, Would go neere to make a man looke ſad. Beſhrew my heart, but I pittie the man. O wherefore Nature, did'ſt thou Lions frame? Since Lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere: Which is: no, no, which was the faireſt Dame That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheere. Come teares, confound: Out ſword, and wound The pap of Piramus: I, that left pap, where heart doth hop; Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my ſoule is in the sky, Tongue loſe thy light, Moone take thy flight, Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one. Leſſe then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer, and proue an Aſſe. How chance Moone-ſhine is gone before? Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer. She wil finde him by ſtarre-light. Heere ſhe comes, and her paſſion ends the play. Me thinkes ſhee ſhould not vſe a long one for ſuch a Piramus: I hope ſhe will be breefe. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus which Thisby is the better. She hath ſpyed him already, with thoſe ſweete eyes. And thus ſhe meanes, videlicit. Aſleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue? O Piramus ariſe: Speake. Speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe Muſt couer thy ſweet eyes. Theſe Lilly Lips, this cherry noſe, Theſe yellow Cowſlip cheekes Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone: His eyes were greene as Leekes. O ſiſters three, come, come to mee, With hands as pale as Milke, Lay them in gore, ſince you haue ſhore With ſheeres, his thred of ſilke. Tongue not a word: Come truſty ſword: Come blade, my breſt imbrue: And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu. Moon-ſhine & Lion are left to burie the dead. I, and Wall too. No, I aſſure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it pleaſe you to ſee the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company?