Shakespeare, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · at University unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 505 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
To be, or not to be, I there's the point, To Die, to sleep, is that all? I all: No, to sleep, to dream, I mary there it goes, For in that dream of death, when we awake, And borne before an everlasting judge, From whence no passenger ever retur'nd, The undiscovered country, at whose sight The happy smile, and the accursed damned. But for this, the joyful hope of this, Wholed bear the scorns and flattery of the world, Scorned by the right rich, the rich cursed of the poor? The widow being oppressed, the orphan wronged, The taste of hunger, or a tyrants reign, And thousand more calamities beside, To grunt and sweat under this weary life, When that he may his full Quietus make, With a bare bodkin, who would this endure, But for a hope of something after death? Which puzzles the brain, and doth confound the sense, Which makes us rather bear those evils we have, Than fly to others that we know not of. I that, O this conscience makes cowards of us all, Lady in thy orisons, be all my sins remembered. My Lord, I have sought opportunity, which now I have, to redeliver to your worthy hands, a small remembrance, such tokens which I have received of you. Are you fair? My Lord. Are you honest? What means my Lord? That if you be fair and honest, Your beauty should admit no discourse to your honesty. My Lord, can beauty have better privilege than with honesty? Yea mary may it; for Beauty may transform Honesty, from what she was into a bawd: Then Honesty can transform Beauty: This was sometimes a Paradox, But now the time gives it scope. I never gave you nothing. My Lord, you know right well you did, And with them such earnest vows of love, As would have moved the stoniest breast alive, But now too true I find, Rich gifts wax poor, when givers grow unkind. I never loved you. You made me believe you did. O thou shouldst not a believed me! Go to a Nunnery go, why shouldst thou Be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, But I could accuse myself of such crimes It had been better my mother had ne'er borne me, O I am very proud, ambitious, disdainful, With more sins at my beck, than I have thoughts To put them in, what should such fellows as I Do, crawling between heaven and earth? To a Nunnery go, we are arrant knaves all, Believe none of us, to a Nunnery go. O heavens secure him! where's thy father? At home my lord. For God's sake let the doors be shut on him, He may play the fool no where but in his Own house: to a Nunnery go. Help him good God. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee This plague to thy dowry: Be thou as chaste as ye, as pure as snow, Thou shalt not scape calumny, to a Nunnery go.
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
To be, or not to be, I there's the point, To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all: No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes, For in that dreame of death, when wee awake, And borne before an euerlasting Iudge, From whence no passenger euer retur'nd, The vndiscouered country, at whose sight The happy smile, and the accursed damn'd. But for this, the ioyfull hope of this, Whol'd beare the scornes and flattery of the world, Scorned by the right rich, the rich curssed of the poore? The widow being oppressed, the orphan wrong'd, The taste of hunger, or a tirants raigne, And thousand more calamities besides, To grunt and sweate vnder this weary life, When that he may his full Quietus make, With a bare bodkin, who would this indure, But for a hope of something after death? Which pusles the braine, and doth confound the sence, Which makes vs rather beare those euilles we haue, Than flie to others that we know not of. I that, O this conscience makes cowardes of vs all, Lady in thy orizons, be all my sinnes remembred. My Lord, I haue sought opportunitie, which now I haue, to redeliuer to your worthy handes, a small remembrance, such tokens which I haue receiued of you. Are you faire? My Lord. Are you honest? What meanes my Lord? That if you be faire and honest, Your beauty should admit no discourse to your honesty. My Lord, can beauty haue better priuiledge than with honesty? Yea mary may it; for Beauty may transforme Honesty, from what she was into a bawd: Then Honesty can transforme Beauty: This was sometimes a Paradox, But now the time giues it scope. I neuer gaue you nothing. My Lord, you know right well you did, And with them such earnest vowes of loue, As would haue moou'd the stoniest breast aliue, But now too true I finde, Rich giftes waxe poore, when giuers grow vnkinde. I neuer loued you. You made me beleeue you did. O thou shouldst not a beleeued me! Go to a Nunnery goe, why shouldst thou Be a breeder of sinners? I am myselfe indifferent honest, But I could accuse my selfe of such crimes It had beene better my mother had ne're borne me, O I am very prowde, ambitious, disdainefull, With more sinnes at my becke, then I haue thoughts To put them in, what should such fellowes as I Do, crawling between heauen and earth? To a Nunnery goe, we are arrant knaues all, Beleeue none of vs, to a Nunnery goe. O heauens secure him! Wher's thy father? At home my lord. For Gods sake let the doores be shut on him, He may play the foole no where but in his Owne house: to a Nunnery goe. Help him good God. If thou dost marry, Ile giue thee This plague to thy dowry: Be thou as chaste as yee, as pure as snowe, Thou shalt not scape calumny, to a Nunnery goe.