Shakespeare, William · published 1608 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men · before the Court unassigned nearest T0 Court life: dukes, favour and honour · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T0: duke, lord, duchess, love, court, madam, prince, honour, grace, lady.
Whose there? Marry here's Grace, & a codpis, that's a wiseman and a fool. Alas sir, sit you here? Things that love night, love not such nights as these, The wrathful Skies gallow, the very wanderer of the Dark, and makes them keep their caves, Since I was man, such sheets of fire, Such bursts of horrid thunder, such groans of Roaring wind, and rain, I ne'er remember To have heard, man's nature cannot carry The affliction, nor the force. Let the great Gods that keep this dreadful Powther o'er our heads, find out their enemies now, Tremble thou wretch that hast within thee Vndivulged crimes, unwhipt of justice, Hid thee thou bloody hand, thou perjured, and Thou simular man of virtue that art incestuous, Caytife in pieces shake, that under covert And convenient seeming, hast practised on man's life, Close penned up guilts, rive your concealed centres, And cry these dreadful summoners grace, I am a man more sinned against their sinning. Alack bare headed, gracious my Lord, hard by here is a hovel, some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest, repose you there, whilst I to this hard house, more hard than is the stone whereof 'tis raised, which even but now demanding after me, denied me to come in, return and force their scanted courtesy. My wit begins to turn, Come on my boy, how dost my boy, art cold? I am cold myself, where is this straw my fellow, The art of our necessities is strange that can, Make vild things precious, come you hovel poor, Fool and knave, I have one part of my heart That sorrows yet for thee. He that has a little tine wit, with hay ho the wind and the rain, must make content with his fortunes fit, for the rain, it raineth every day. True my good boy, come bring us to this hovel? Alack alack Edmund I like not this, Unnatural dealing when I desired their leave That I might pity him, they took me from me The use of mine own house, charged me on pain Of their displeasure, neither to speak of him, Entreat for him, nor any way sustain him. Most savage and unnatural. Go toe say you nothing, there's a division betwixt the Dukes, And a worse matter than that, I have received A letter this night, 'tis dangerous to be spoken, I have locked the letter in my closet, these injuries The King now bears, will be revenged home there's part of a power already landed, We must incline to the King, I will seek him, and Privily relieve him, go you and maintain talk With the Duke, that my charity be not of him Perceived, if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone To bed, though I die for't, as no less is threatened me, The King my old master must be relieved, there is Some strange thing toward, Edmund pray you be careful.
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)
Whose there? Marry heers Grace, & a codpis, that's a wiseman and a foole. Alas sir, sit you here? Things that loue night, loue not such nights as these, The wrathfull Skies gallow, the very wanderer of the Darke, and makes them keepe their caues, Since I was man, such sheets of fire, Such bursts of horred thunder, such grones of Roaring winde, and rayne, I ne're remember To haue heard, mans nature cannot cary The affliction, nor the force. Let the great Gods that keepe this dreadful Powther ore our heades, find out their enemies now, Tremble thou wretch that hast within thee Vndivulged crimes, vnwhipt of Iustice, Hide thee thou bloudy hand, thou periur'd, and Thou simular man of vertue that art incestious, Caytise in peeces shake, that vnder couert And conuenient seeming, hast practised on mans life, Close pent vp guilts, riue your concealed centers, And cry these dreadfull summoners grace, I am a man more sind against their sinning. Alacke bare headed, gracious my Lord, hard by here is a houell, some friendship will it lend you gainst the tempest, repose you there, whilst I to this hard house, more hard then is the stone whereof tis rais'd, which euen but now demaunding after me, denide me to come in, returne and force their scanted curtesie. My wit begins to turne, Come on my boy, how dost my boy, art cold? I am cold my selfe, where is this straw my fellow, The art of our necessities is strange that can, Make vild things precious, come you houell poore, Foole and knaue, I haue one part of my heart That sorrowes yet for thee. Hee that has a little tine witte, with hey ho the wind and the raine, must make content with his fortunes fit, for the raine, it raineth euery day. True my good boy, come bring vs to this houell? Alacke alacke Edmund I like not this, Vnnaturall dealing when I desir'd their leaue That I might pitty him, they tooke me from me The vse of mine owne house, charg'd me on paine Of their displeasure, neither to speake of him, Intreat for him, nor any way sustaine him. Most sauage and vnnaturall. Go toe say you nothing, ther's a diuisiō betwixt the Dukes, And a worse matter then that, I haue receiued A letter this night, tis dangerous to be spoken, I haue lockt the letter in my closet, these iniuries The King now beares, will be reuenged home Ther's part of a power already landed, We must incline to the King, I will seeke him, and Priuily releeue him, goe you and maintaine talke With the Duke, that my charity be not of him Perceiued, if hee aske for me, I am ill, and gon To bed, though I die for't, as no lesse is threatned me, The King my old master must be releeued, there is Some strāge thing toward, Edmund pray you be careful.