Shakespeare, William · published 1608 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T29 Disguise and pursuit in Look About You · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T29: gloster, faukenbridge, skinke, hermit, richard, prince, iohn, porter, henry, brother.
O reason not the deed, our basest beggars, Are in the poorest thing superfluous, Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life as cheap as beasts, thou art a Lady, If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why nature needs not, what thou gorgeous wearest Which scarcely keeps thee warm, but for true need, You heavens give me that patience, patience I need, You see me here (you Gods) a poor old fellow, As full of grief as age, wretched in both, If it be you that stirs these daughter's hearts Against their Father, fool me not to much, To bear it lamely, touch me with noble anger, O let not women's weapons, water drops Stain my man's cheeks, no you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall, I will do such things, What they are yet I know not, but they shallbe The terrors of the earth, you think i'll weep, No i'll not weep, I have full cause of weeping, But this heart shall break, in a 100. thousand flows Or ere i'll weep, O fool I shall go mad. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. This house is little the old man and his people, Cannot be well bestowed. 'tis his own blame hath put himself from rest, And must needs taste his folly. For his particular, i'll receive him gladly, But not one follower. So am I pusposed, where is my Lord of Gloster? Followed the old man forth, he is returned. The King is in high rage, & will I know not whether. 'tis good to give him way, he leads himself. My Lord, entreat him by no means to stay. Alack the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely russel, for many miles about there's not a bush. O sir, to wilful men The injuries that they themselves procure, Must be their schoolmasters, shut up your doors, He is attended with a desperate train, And what they may incense him to, being apt, To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. Shut up your doors my Lord, 'tis a wild night, My Reg counsails well, come out at'h storme. What's here beside foul weather? One minded like the weather most unquietly. I know you, where's the King? Contending with the fretful element, Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main That things might change or cease, tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts with eyles rage Catch in their fury, and make nothing of, Strives in his little world of man to outscorne, The too and fro conflicting wind and rain, This night wherein the cub-drawne Bear would couch, The Lion, and the belly pinched Wolf Keep their surre dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all. But who is with him? None but the fool, who labours to out-iest His heart struck injuries.
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)
O reason not the deed, our basest beggers, Are in the poorest thing superfluous, Allow not nature more then nature needes, Mans life as cheape as beasts, thou art a Lady, If onely to goe warme were gorgeous, Why nature needes not, what thou gorgeous wearest Which scarcely keepes thee warme, but for true need, You heauens giue me that patience, patience I need, You see me here (you Gods) a poore old fellow, As full of greefe as age, wretched in both, If it be you that stirres these daughters hearts Against their Father, foole me not to much, To beare it lamely, touch me with noble anger, O let not womens weapons, water drops Stayne my mans cheekes, no you vnnaturall hags, I will haue such reuenges on you both, That all the world shall, I will doe such things, What they are yet I know not, but they shalbe The terrors of the earth, you thinke ile weepe, No ile not weepe, I haue full cause of weeping, But this heart shall breake, in a 100. thousand flowes Or ere ile weepe, O foole I shall goe mad. Let vs withdraw, twill be a storme. This house is little the old man and his people, Cannot be well bestowed. Tis his own blame hath put himselfe from rest, And must needs tast his folly. For his particuler, ile receiue him gladly, But not one follower. So am I puspos'd, where is my Lord of Gloster? Followed the old man forth, he is return'd. The King is in high rage, & wil I know not whe-ther. Tis good to giue him way, he leads himselfe. My Lord, intreat him by no meanes to stay. Alack the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely russel, for many miles about ther's not a bush. O sir, to wilfull men The iniuries that they themselues procure, Must be their schoolemasters, shut vp your doores, He is attended with a desperate traine, And what they may incense him to, being apt, To haue his eare abusd, wisedome bids feare. Shut vp your doores my Lord, tis a wild night, My Reg counsails well, come out at'h storme. Whats here beside foule weather? One minded like the weather most vnquietly. I know you, whers the King? Contending with the fretfull element, Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters boue the maine That things might change or cease, teares his white haire, Which the impetuous blasts with eyles rage Catch in their furie, and make nothing of, Striues in his little world of man to outscorne, The too and fro conflicting wind and raine, This night wherin the cub-drawne Beare would couch, The Lyon, and the belly pinched Wolfe Keepe their surre dry, vnbonneted he runnes, And bids what will take all. But who is with him? None but the foole, who labours to out-iest His heart strooke iniuries.