Shakespeare, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · at University unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 505 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
How▪ kill a king! ja King: nay sit you down, and ere you part, If you be made of penitrable stuff, I'll make your eyes look down into your heart, And see how horrid there and black it shows. Hamlet, what meanest thou by these kill words? Why this I mean, see here, behold this picture, It is the portraiture, of your deceased husband, See here a face, to outface Mars himself, An eye, at which his foes did tremble at, A front wherein all virtue▪ are set down For to adorn a king, and gild his crown, Whose heart went hand in hand even with that vow, He made to you in marriage, and he is dead. Murdered, damnably murdered, this was your husband, Look you now, here is your husband, With a face like Unlcan. A look fit for a murder and a rape, A dull dead hanging look, and a hellbred eye, To affright children and amaze the world: And this same have you left to change with this. What Devil thus hath cozened you at hob-man blind? A! have you eyes and can you look on him That slew my father, and your dear husband, To live in the incestuous pleasure of his bed? O Hamlet, speak no more. To leave him that bore a monarch mind, For a king of clouts, of very shreds. Sweet Hamlet cease. Nay but still to persist and dwell in fin, To sweat under the yoke of infamie, To make increase of shame, to seal damnation. Hamlet, no more. Why appetite with you is in the wain, Your blood runs backward now from whence it came, Who'll chide hot blood within a Virgin's heart, When lust shall dwell within a matron's breast? Hamlet, thou cleaves my heart in twain. O throw away the worse part of it, and keep the better. Save me, save me, you gracious Powers above, and hover over me, With your celestial wings. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That I thus long have let revenge slip by? O do not glare with looks so pitiful! Lest that my heart of stone yield to compassion, And every part that should assist revenge, forego their proper powers, and fall to pity. Hamlet, I once again appear to thee, To put thee in remembrance of my death: Do not neglect, nor long time put it off. But I perceive by thy distracted looks, Thy mother's fearful, and she stands amazed: Speak to her Hamlet, for her sex is weak, Comfort thy mother, Hamlet, think on me. How is't with you Lady? Nay, how is't with you That thus you bend your eyes on vacancy, And hold discourse with nothing but with air? Why do you nothing hear? Not I Nor do you nothing see? No neither. No, why see the king my father, my father, in the habit As he lived, look you how pale he looks, See how he steals away out of the portal, Look, there he goes.
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)
How▪ kill a king! Ia King: nay sit you downe, and ere you part, If you be made of penitrable stuffe, I'le make your eyes looke downe into your heart, And see how horride there and blacke it shews. Hamlet, what mean'st thou by these killing words? Why this I meane, see here, behold this picture, It is the portraiture, of your deceased husband, See here a face, to outface Mars himselfe, An eye, at which his foes did tremble at, A front wherin all vertue▪ are set downe For to adorne a king, and guild his crowne, Whose heart went hand in hand euen with that vow, He made to you in marriage, and he is dead. Murdred, damnably murdred, this was your husband, Looke you now, here is your husband, With a face like Unlcan. A looke fit for a murder and a rape, A dull dead hanging looke, and a hell-bred eie, To affright children and amaze the world: And this same haue you left to change with this. What Diuell thus hath cosoned you at hob-man blinde? A! haue you eyes and can you looke on him That slew my father, and your deere husband, To liue in the incestuous pleasure of his bed? O Hamlet, speake no more. To leaue him that bare a Monarkes minde, For a king of clowts, of very shreads. Sweete Hamlet cease. Nay but still to persist and dwell in finne, To sweate vnder the yoke of insamie, To make increase of shame, to seale damnation. Hamlet, no more. Why appetite with you is in the waine, Your blood runnes backeward now from whence it came, Who'le chide hote blood within a Virgins heart, When lust shall dwell within a matrons breast? Hamlet, thou cleaues my heart in twaine. O throw away the worser part of it, and keepe the better. Saue me, saue me, you gratious Powers aboue, and houer ouer mee, With your celestiall wings. Doe you not come your tardy sonne to chide, That I thus long haue let reuenge slippe by? O do not glare with lookes so pittifull! Lest that my heart of stone yeelde to compassion, And euery part that should assist reuenge, Forgoe their proper powers, and fall to pitty. Hamlet, I once againe appeare to thee, To put thee in remembrance of my death: Doe not neglect, nor long time put it off. But I perceiue by thy distracted lookes, Thy mother's fearefull, and she stands amazde: Speake to her Hamlet, for her sex is weake, Comfort thy mother, Hamlet, thinke on me. How i'st with you Lady? Nay, how i'st with you That thus you bend your eyes on vacancie, And holde discourse with nothing but with ayre? Why doe you nothing heare? Not I. Nor doe you nothing see? No neither. No, why see the king my father, my father, in the habite As he liued, looke you how pale he lookes, See how he steales away out of the Portall, Looke, there he goes.