Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T9 Theatre talk: prologues, poets and playe typicality 0.77 · 515 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T9: play, stage, poet, prologue, author, wit, plays, muse, scene, players.
I is well, I'll have thee speak out the rest, soon. Good my Lord, will you see the Players well bestowed. Do ye hear, let them be well used: for they are the Abstracts and brief Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad Epitaph, than their ill report while you lived. My Lord, I will use them according to their desert. God's bodkin man, better. Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping: use them after your own Honour and Dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. Come sirs. Fellow him Friends: we'll hear a play to morrow. Dost thou hear me old Friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago? I my Lord. we'll have't to morrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down, and insert in't? Can ye not? I my Lord. Very well. Fellow that Lord, and look you mock him not. My good Friends, I'll leave you till night you are welcome to Elsonower? Good my Lord. I so, God bye: Now I am alone. Oh what a Rogue and Peasant slave am I? Is it not monstrous that this Player here, But in a Fixion, in a dream of Passion, Can force his soul so to his whole conceit, That from her working, all his visage warmed; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect, A broken voice, and his whole Function suiting With Forms, to his Conceit? And all for nothing? For Hecuba? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the Motive and the Cue for passion That I have? He would drown the Stage with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech: Make mad the guilty, and apale the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed, The very faculty of Eyes and Ears Yet I, A dull and muddy-metled Rascal, peak Like Iohn a-dreames, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing: No, not for a King, Upon whose property, and most dear life, A damned defeat was made. Am I a Coward? Who calls me Villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my Beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by ' th' Nose? gives me the Lie i' th' Throat, As deep as to the Lungs? Who does me this? Ha'? Why I should take it: for it cannot be, But I am Pigeon-liuered, and lack Gall To make Oppression bitter, or ere this, I should have fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaves Offal, bloody: a Bawdy villain, Remorseless, Treacherous, Lecherous, kindles villain! Oh Vengeance! Who? What an Ass am I? I sure, this is most brave, That I, the Son of the Dear murdered, Prompted to my Revenge by Heaven, and Hell, Must (like a Whore) unpacke my heart with words, And fall a Cursing like a very Drab, A Scullion? Fie upon't: Foh. About my Brain.
seed 43: T16 · seed 44: T15 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
'I is well, Ile haue thee ſpeake out the reſt, ſoone. Good my Lord, will you ſee the Players wel beſtow'd. Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are the Abſtracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then their ill report while you liued. My Lord, I will vſe them according to their deſart. Gods bodykins man, better. Vſe euerie man after his deſart, and who ſhould ſcape whipping: vſe them after your own Honor and Dignity. The leſſe they deſerue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them in. Come ſirs. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow. Doſt thou heare me old Friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago? I my Lord. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a need ſtudy a ſpeech of ſome doſen or ſixteene lines, which I would ſet downe, and inſert in't? Could ye not? I my Lord. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night you are welcome to Elſonower? Good my Lord. I ſo, God buy'ye: Now I am alone. Oh what a Rogue and Peſant ſlaue am I? Is it not monſtrous that this Player heere, But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Paſſion, Could force his ſoule ſo to his whole conceit, That from her working, all his viſage warm'd; Teares in his eyes, diſtraction in's Aſpect, A broken voyce, and his whole Function ſuiting With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing? For Hecuba? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he ſhould weepe for her? What would he doe, Had he the Motiue and the Cue for paſſion That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares, And cleaue the generall eare with horrid ſpeech: Make mad the guilty, and apale the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed, The very faculty of Eyes and Eares Yet I, A dull and muddy-metled Raſcall, peake Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cauſe, And can ſay nothing: No, not for a King, Vpon whoſe property, and moſt deere life, A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward? Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-croſſe? Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face? Tweakes me by' th' Noſe? giues me the Lye i' th' Throate, As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this? Ha? Why I ſhould take it: for it cannot be, But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall To make Oppreſſion bitter, or ere this, I ſhould haue fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine, Remorſeleſſe, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine! Oh Vengeance! Who? What an Aſſe am I? I ſure, this is moſt braue, That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered, Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell, Muſt (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words, And fall a Curſing like a very Drab, A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine.