Shakespeare, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · at University unassigned nearest T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe · 498 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
you shall hear anon, this fellow will tell you all. Will he tell us what this show means? I, or any show you'll show him, Be not afeard to show, he'll not be afeard to tell: O these Players cannot keep counsel, they'll tell all. For us, and for our Tragedy, Hear stowpiug to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently. Is't a prologue, or a poesy for a ring? 'tis short my Lord. As women's love. Full forty years are past, their date is gone, Since happy time joined both our hearts as one: And now the blood that filled my youthful veins, Runs weakly in their pipes, and all the strains Of music, which whilom pleased mine ear, Is now a burden that Age cannot bear: And therefore sweet Nature must pay his due, To heaven must I, and leave the earth with you. O say not so, lest that you kill my heart, When death takes you, let life from me departed. Content thyself, when ended is my date, Thou mayst (perchance) have a more noble mate, More wise, more youthful, and one. O speak no more for then I am accursed, None weds the second, but she kills the first: A second time I kill my Lord that's dead, When second husband kisses me in bed. O wormwood, wormwood! I do believe you sweet, what now you speak, But what we do determine oft we break, For our demises still are overthrown, Our thoughts are ours, their end's none of our own: So think you will no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead. Both here and there pursue me lasting strife, If once a widow, ever I be wife. If she should break now. 'tis deeply sworn, sweet leave me here a while, My spirits grow dull, and feign I would beguile the tedious time with sleep. Sleep rock thy brain, And never come mischance between us twain. Madam, how do you like this play? The Lady protests too much. O but she'll keep her word. Have you heard the argument, is there no offence in it? No offence in the world, poison in jest, poison in jest. What do you call the name of the play? Mousetrap: mary how trapically: this play is The image of a murder done in guyana, Albertus Was the Duke's name, his wife Baptista, Father, it is a knavish piece a work: but what A that, it toucheth not us, you and I that have free Souls, let the galld jade wince, this is one Lucianus nephew to the King. you're as good as a Chorus my lord. I could interpret the love you bear, if I saw the poopies dallying. Y'are very pleasant my lord. Who I, your only jig-maker, why what should a man do but be merry? for look how cheerfully my mother looks, my father died within these two hours. Nay, 'tis twice two months, my Lord.
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)
you shall heare anone, this fellow will tell you all. Will he tell vs what this shew meanes? I, or any shew you'le shew him, Be not afeard to shew, hee'le not be afeard to tell: O these Players cannot keepe counsell, thei'le tell all. For vs, and for our Tragedie, Heere stowpiug to your clemencie, We begge your hearing patiently. I'st a prologue, or a poesie for a ring? T'is short my Lord. As womens loue. Full fortie yeares are past, their date is gone, Since happy time ioyn'd both our hearts as one: And now the blood that fill'd my youthfull veines, Runnes weakely in their pipes, and all the straines Of musicke, which whilome pleasde mine eare, Is now a burthen that Age cannot beare: And therefore sweete Nature must pay his due, To heauen must I, and leaue the earth with you. O say not so, lest that you kill my heart, When death takes you, let life from me depart. Content thy selfe, when ended is my date, Thon maist (perchance) haue a more noble mate, More wise, more youthfull, and one. O speake no more for then I am accurst, None weds the second, but she kils the first: A second time I kill my Lord that's dead, When second husband kisses me in bed. O wormewood, wormewood! I doe beleeue you sweete, what now you speake, But what we doe determine oft we breake, For our demises stil are ouerthrowne, Our thoughts are ours, their end's none of our owne: So thinke you will no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead. Both here and there pursue me lasting strife, If once a widdow, euer I be wife. If she should breake now. T'is deepely sworne, sweete leaue me here a while, My spirites growe dull, and faine I would beguile the tedious time with sleepe. Sleepe rocke thy braine, And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine. Madam, how do you like this play? The Lady protests too much. O but shee'le keepe her word. Haue you heard the argument, is there no offence in it? No offence in the world, poyson in iest, poison in iest. What do you call the name of the play? Mouse-trap: mary how trapically: this play is The image of a murder done in guyana, Albertus Was the Dukes name, his wife Baptista, Father, it is a knauish peece a worke: but what A that, it toucheth not vs, you and I that haue free Soules, let the galld iade wince, this is one Lucianus nephew to the King. Ya're as good as a Chorus my lord. I could interpret the loue you beare, if I sawe the poopies dallying. Y'are very pleasant my lord. Who I, your onlie jig-maker, why what shoulde a man do but be merry? for looke how cheerefully my mother lookes, my father died within these two houres. Nay, t'is twice two months, my Lord.