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 · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Save yourself, my Lord. The Ocean (over-peering of his List) Eats not the Flats with more impittious haste Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head, Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord, And as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, Custom not known, The Ratifiers and props of every word, They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King, Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, Laertes shall be King, Laertes King. How cheerfully on the false Trail they cry, Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogs. The doors are broke. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without. No, let's come in. I pray you give me leave. We will, we will. I thank you: Keep the door. Oh thou vild King, give me my Father. Calmly good Laertes. That drop of blood, that calms Proclaims me Bastard: Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot Even here between the chaste vnsmirched brow Of my true Mother. What is the cause Laertes, That thy Rebellion looks so Giantlike? Let him go Gertrude: Do not fear our person: There's such Divinity doth hedge a King, That Treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes, Why thou art thus Incensed? Let him go Gertrude. Speak man. Where's my Father? Dead. But not by him. Let him demand his fill. How came he dead? I'll not be Iuggeled with. To hell Allegiance: Vows, to the blackest devil. Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit. I dare Damnation: to this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes: only I'll be revenged Most throughly for my Father. Who shall stay you? My Will, not all the world, And for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little. Good Laertes: If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear Father's death, if writ in your revenge, That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe, Winner and Loser. None but his Enemies. Will you know them then. To his good Friends, thus wide I'll open my Arms: And like the kind Life-rend'ring Politician, Repast them with my blood. Why now you speak Like a good Child, and a true Gentleman. That I am guiltless of your Father's death, And am most sensible in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgement pierce As day does to your eye. How now? what noise is that? Oh heat dry up my Brains, tears seven times salt, Burn out the Sense and Virtue of mine eye. By Heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, Till our Scale turns the beam. Oh Rose of May, Dear Maid, kind Sister, sweet Ophelia: Oh Heavens, is't possible, a young Maid's wits, Should be as mortal as an old man's life? Nature is fine in Love, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves.
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)
Saue your ſelfe, my Lord. The Ocean (ouer-peering of his Liſt) Eates not the Flats with more impittious haſte Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head, Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord, And as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, Cuſtome not knowne, The Ratifiers and props of euery word, They cry chooſe we? Laertes ſhall be King, Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, Laertes ſhall be King, Laertes King. How cheerefully on the falſe Traile they cry, Oh this is Counter you falſe Daniſh Dogges. The doores are broke. Where is the King, ſirs? Stand you all without. No, let's come in. I pray you giue me leaue. We will, we will. I thanke you: Keepe the doore. Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father. Calmely good Laertes. That drop of blood, that calmes Proclaimes me Baſtard: Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot Euen heere betweene the chaſte vnſmirched brow Of my true Mother. What is the cauſe Laertes, That thy Rebellion lookes ſo Gyant-like? Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our perſon: There's ſuch Diuinity doth hedge a King, That Treaſon can but peepe to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes, Why thou art thus Incenſt? Let him go Gertrude. Speake man. Where's my Father? Dead. But not by him. Let him demand his fill. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with. To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackeſt diuell. Conſcience and Grace, to the profoundeſt Pit. I dare Damnation: to this point I ſtand, That both the worlds I giue to negligence, Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd Moſt throughly for my Father. Who ſhall ſtay you? My Will, not all the world, And for my meanes, Ile husband them ſo well, They ſhall go farre with little. Good Laertes: If you deſire to know the certaintie Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge, That Soop-ſtake you will draw both Friend and Foe, Winner and Looſer. None but his Enemies. Will you know them then. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes: And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician, Repaſt them with my blood. Why now you ſpeake Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman. That I am guiltleſſe of your Fathers death, And am moſt ſenſible in greefe for it, It ſhall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce As day do's to your eye. How now? what noiſe is that? Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares ſeuen times ſalt, Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye. By Heauen, thy madneſſe ſhall be payed by waight, Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Roſe of May, Deere Maid, kinde Siſter, ſweet Ophelia: Oh Heauens, is't poſſible, a yong Maids wits, Should be as mortall as an old mans life? Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine, It ſends ſome precious inſtance of it ſelfe After the thing it loues.