Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T38 Death, parting and grief at court · 542 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Not this by no means that I bid you do: Let the blunt King tempt you again to bed, Pinch Wanton on your cheek, call you his Mouse, And let him for a pair of reechie kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damned Fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a Queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe, Such dear concern hide, Who would do so, No in despite of Sense and Secrecy, Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top: Let the Birds fly, and like the famous Ape To try Conclusions in the Basket, creep And break your own neck down. Be thou assured, if words be made of breath, And breath of life: I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me. I must to England, you know that? Alack I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on. This man shall set me packing: I'll lug the Guts into the Neighbour room, Mother good-night. Indeed this Counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, Who was in life, a foolish prating Knave. Come sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night Mother. There's matters in these sighs. These profound heaves You must translate; 'tis fit we understand them. Where is your Son? Ah my good Lord, what have I seen to night? What Gertrude? How does Hamlet? Mad as the Seas, and wind, when both contend Which is the Mightier, in his lawless fit Behind the Arras, hearing something stir, He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat, And in his brainish apprehension kills The unseen good old man. Oh heavy deed: It had been so with us had we been there: His Liberty is full of threats to all, To you yourself, to us, to every one. Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answered? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt, This mad young man. But so much was our love, We would not understand what was most fit, But like the Owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let's it feed Even on the pith of life. Where is he gone? To draw apart the body he hath killed, O'er whom his very madness like some Oar Among a Mineral of Mettles base Shows itself pure. He weeps for what is done. Oh Gertrude, come away: The Sun no sooner shall the Mountain's touch, But we will ship him hence, and this vild deed, We must with all our Majesty and Skill Both countenance, and excuse. Ho Guildenstern: Friends both go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his Mother Closets hath he dragged him. Go seek him out, speak fair, and bring the body Into the Chapel. I pray you haste in this. Come Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends, To let them know both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done. Oh come away, My soul is full of discord and dismay.
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)
Not this by no meanes that I bid you do: Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed, Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouſe, And let him for a paire of reechie kiſſes, Or padling in your necke with his damn'd Fingers, Make you to rauell all this matter out, That I eſſentially am not in madneſſe, But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a Queene, faire, ſober, wiſe, Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe, Such deere concernings hide, Who would do ſo, No in deſpight of Senſe and Secrecie, Vnpegge the Basket on the houſes top: Let the Birds flye, and like the famous Ape To try Concluſions in the Basket, creepe And breake your owne necke downe. Be thou aſſur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life: I haue no life to breath What thou haſt ſaide to me. I muſt to England, you know that? Alacke I had forgot: 'Tis ſo concluded on. This man ſhall ſet me packing: Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome, Mother goodnight. Indeede this Counſellor Is now moſt ſtill, moſt ſecret, and moſt graue, Who was in life, a fooliſh prating Knaue. Come ſir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night Mother. There's matters in theſe ſighes. Theſe profound heaues You muſt tranſlate; Tis fit we vnderſtand them. Where is your Sonne? Ah my good Lord, what haue I ſeene to night? What Gertrude? How do's Hamlet? Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend Which is the Mightier, in his lawleſſe fit Behinde the Arras, hearing ſomething ſtirre, He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat, And in his brainiſh apprehenſion killes The vnſeene good old man. Oh heauy deed: It had bin ſo with vs had we beene there: His Liberty is full of threats to all, To you your ſelfe, to vs, to euery one. Alas, how ſhall this bloody deede be anſwered? It will be laide to vs, whoſe prouidence Should haue kept ſhort, reſtrain'd, and out of haunt, This mad yong man. But ſo much was our loue, We would not vnderſtand what was moſt fit, But like the Owner of a foule diſeaſe, To keepe it from divulging, let's it feede Euen on the pith of life. Where is he gone? To draw apart the body he hath kild, O're whom his very madneſſe like ſome Oare Among a Minerall of Mettels baſe Shewes it ſelfe pure. He weepes for what is done. Oh Gertrude, come away: The Sun no ſooner ſhall the Mountaines touch, But we will ſhip him hence, and this vilde deed, We muſt with all our Maieſty and Skill Both countenance, and excuſe. Ho Guildenſtern: Friends both go ioyne you with ſome further ayde: Hamlet in madneſſe hath Polonius ſlaine, And from his Mother Cloſſets hath he drag'd him. Go ſeeke him out, ſpeake faire, and bring the body Into the Chappell. I pray you haſt in this. Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wiſeſt friends, To let them know both what we meane to do, And what's vntimely done. Oh come away, My ſoule is full of diſcord and diſmay.