Shakespeare, William · published 1608 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
I hear myself proclaimed, And by the happy hollow of a tree Escaped the hunt, no Port is free, no place That guard, and most unusual vigilence Dost not attend my taking while I may scape, I will preserve myself, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That ever penury in contempt of man, Brought near to beast, my face i'll grime with filth, Blanket my loins, else all my hair with knots, And with presented nakedness outface, The wind, and persecution of the sky, The Country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices, Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms, Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary, And with this horrible object from low service, Poor pelting villages, sheep-coates, and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers Enforce their charity, poor Turlygod, poor Tom, That's something yet, Edgar I nothing am. 'tis strange that they should so departed from hence, And not send back my messenger. As I learned, the night before there was No purpose of his remove. Hail to thee noble master. How, makest thou this shame thy pastime? Ha ha, look he wears cruel garters, Horses are tied by the heels, dogs and bears Byth' neck, monkeys bit'h loins, and men Byth' legs, when a man's over lusty at legs, Then he wears wooden nether-stocks. What's he, that hath so much thy place mistook to set thee here? It is both he and she, your son & daughter. No. Yes. No I say, I say yea. No no, they would not. Yes they have. By Iupiter I swear no, they durst not do't, They would not, could not do't, 'tis worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage, Resolve me with all modest haste, which way Thou mayst deserve, or they purpose this usage, Coming from us. My Lord, when at their home I did commend your highness letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that showed My duty kneeling, came there a reeking Post, Stewed in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress, salutations, Delivered letters spite of intermission, Which presently they read, on whose contents They summoned up their men, strait took horse, Commanded me to follow, and attend the leisure Of their answer, gave me cold looks, And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome I perceived had poisoned mine, Being the very fellow that of late Displayed so saucily against your Highness, Having more man than wit about me drew, He raised the house with loud and coward cries, Your son and daughter found this trespass worth This shame which here it suffers. O how this mother swells up toward my heart, Historica passio down thou climbing sorrow, Thy element's below, where is this daughter? With the Earl sir within, Fellow me not, stay there? Made you no more offence than what you speak of? No, how chance the King comes with so small a train? And thou hadst been set in the stocks for that question, thou ha'dst well deserved it. Why fool?
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)
I heare my selfe proclaim'd, And by the happie hollow of a tree Escapt the hunt, no Port is free, no place That guard, and most vnusuall vigilence Dost not attend my taking while I may scape, I will preserue my selfe, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That euer penury in contempt of man, Brought neare to beast, my face ile grime with filth, Blanket my loynes, else all my haire with knots, And with presented nakednes outface, The wind, and persecution of the skie, The Countrie giues me proofe and president Of Bedlam beggers, who with roring voyces, Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare armes, Pins, wodden prickes, nayles, sprigs of rosemary, And with this horrible obiect from low seruice, Poore pelting villages, sheep-coates, and milles, Sometime with lunaticke bans, sometime with prayers Enforce their charitie, poore Turlygod, poore Tom, That's something yet, Edgar I nothing am. Tis strange that they should so depart from hence, And not send backe my messenger. As I learn'd, the night before there was No purpose of his remoue. Hayle to thee noble maister. How, mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? Ha ha, looke he weares crewell garters, Horses are tide by the heeles, dogges and beares Byt'h necke, munkies bit'h loynes, and men Byt'h legges, when a mans ouer lusty at legs, Then he weares wooden neatherstockes. Whats he, that hath so much thy place mistooke to set thee here? It is both he and shee, your sonne & daugter. No. Yes. No I say, I say yea. No no, they would not. Yes they haue. By Iupiter I sweare no, they durst not do't, They would not, could not do't, tis worse then murder, To doe vpon respect such violent outrage, Resolue me with all modest hast, which way Thou may'st deserue, or they purpose this vsage, Coming from vs. My Lord, when at their home I did commend your highnes letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that shewed My dutie kneeling, came there a reeking Post, Stewd in his hast, halfe breathles, panting forth From Gonorill his mistris, salutations, Deliuered letters spite of intermission, Which presently they read, on whose contents They summond vp their men, straight tooke horse, Commanded me to follow, and attend the leasure Of their answere, gaue me cold lookes, And meeting here the other messenger, Whose welcome I perceau'd had poyson'd mine, Being the very fellow that of late Display'd so sawcily against your Highnes, Hauing more man then wit about me drew, He raised the house with loud and coward cries, Your sonne and daughter found this trespas worth This shame which here it suffers. O how this mother swels vp toward my hart, Historica passio downe thou climing sorrow, Thy element's below, where is this daughter? With the Earle sir within, Follow me not, stay there? Made you no more offēce then what you speake of? No, how chance the King comes with so small a traine? And thou hadst beene set in the stockes for that question, thou ha'dst well deserued it. Why foole?