Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.67 · 519 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Thoughts black, hands apt, Drugs fit, and Time agreeing: Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing: Thou mixture rank, of Midnight Weeds collected, With Hecate's Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural Magic, and dire property, On wholesome life, usurp immediately. He poisons him i' th' Garden for's estate: His name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choice Italian. You shall see anon how the Murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. The King rises. What, frighted with false fire. How fares my Lord? Give o'er the Play. Give me some Light. Away. Lights, Lights, Lights. Why let the strucken Deer go weep, The Hart ungalled play: For some must watch, while some must sleep; So runs the world away. Would not this Sir, and a Forest of Feathers, if the rest of my Fortune's turn Turk with me; with two Provincial Roses on my razed Shoes, get me a Fellowship in a cry of Player's sir. Half a share. A whole one I, For thou dost know: Oh Damon dear, This Realm dismantled was of Ioue himself, And now reigns here. A very very Paiocke. You might have Rhymed. Oh good Horatio, I'll take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? Very well my Lord. Upon the talk of the poisoning? I did very well note him. Oh, ha'? Come some Music. Come the Recorders: For if the King like not the Comedy, Why then belike he likes it not perdie. Come some Music. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. Sir, a whole History. The King, sir. I sir, what of him? Is in his retirement, marvelous distempered. With drink Sir? No my Lord, rather with choler. Your wisdom should show itself more richer, to signify this to his Doctor: for for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps plunge him into far more Choler. Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildly from my affair. I am tame Sir, pronounce. The Queen your Mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. You are welcome. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your Mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return shall be the end of my Business. Sir, I cannot. What, my Lord? Make you a wholesome answer: my wits diseased. But sir, such answers as I can make, you shall command: or rather you say, my Mother: therefore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into amazement, and admiration. Oh wonderful Son, that can so astonish a Mother. But is there no sequel at the heels of this Mother's admiration? She desires to speak with you in her Closet, ere you go to bed. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother. Have you any further Trade with us? My Lord, you once did love me. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.
nodes 1755–1811 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 31 of 55 in this edition
Length
519 words · 703 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.673 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Thoughts blacke, hands apt, Drugges fit, and Time agreeing: Confederate ſeaſon, elſe, no Creature ſeeing: Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected, With Hecats Ban, thrice blaſted, thrice infected, Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie, On wholſome life, vſurpe immediately. He poyſons him i' th Garden for's eſtate: His name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce Italian. You ſhall ſee anon how the Murtherer gets the loue of Gonzago's wife. The King riſes. What, frighted with falſe fire. How fares my Lord? Giue o're the Play. Giue me ſome Light. Away. Lights, Lights, Lights. Why let the ſtrucken Deere go weepe, The Hart vngalled play: For ſome muſt watch, while ſome muſt ſleepe; So runnes the world away. Would not this Sir, and a Forreſt of Feathers, if the reſt of my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall Roſes on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowſhip in a crie of Players ſir. Halfe a ſhare. A whole one I, For thou doſt know: Oh Damon deere, This Realme diſmantled was of Ioue himſelfe, And now reignes heere. A verie verie Paiocke. You might haue Rim'd. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghoſts word for a thouſand pound. Did'ſt perceiue? Verie well my Lord. Vpon the talke of the poyſoning? I did verie well note him. Oh, ha? Come ſome Muſick. Come ye Recorders: For if the King like not the Comedie, Why then belike he likes it not perdie. Come ſome Muſicke. Good my Lord, vouchſafe me a word with you. Sir, a whole Hiſtory. The King, ſir. I ſir, what of him? Is in his retyrement, maruellous diſtemper'd. With drinke Sir? No my Lord, rather with choller. Your wiſedome ſhould ſhew it ſelfe more richer, to ſignifie this to his Doctor: for for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre more Choller. Good my Lord put your diſcourſe into ſome frame, and ſtart not ſo wildely from my affayre. I am tame Sir, pronounce. The Queene your Mother, in moſt great affliction of ſpirit, hath ſent me to you. You are welcome. Nay, good my Lord, this courteſie is not of the right breed. If it ſhall pleaſe you to make me a wholſome anſwer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment: if not, your pardon, and my returne ſhall bee the end of my Buſineſſe. Sir, I cannot. What, my Lord? Make you a wholſome anſwere: my wits diſeas'd. But ſir, ſuch anſwers as I can make, you ſhal command: or rather you ſay, my Mother: therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you ſay. Then thus ſhe ſayes: your behauior hath ſtroke her into amazement, and admiration. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can ſo aſtoniſh a Mother. But is there no ſequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration? She deſires to ſpeake with you in her Cloſſet, ere you go to bed. We ſhall obey, were ſhe ten times our Mother. Haue you any further Trade with vs? My Lord, you once did loue me. So I do ſtill, by theſe pickers and ſtealers.