Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T47 Knaves, thieves and bawds · 514 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T47: knave, rogue, money, knaves, thief, rogues, pray, whore, nichol, book.
The trick of that voice, I do well remember: Is't not the King? I, every inch a King. When I do stare, see how the Subject quakes, I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery? thou shalt not dye: die for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too't, and the small gilded Fly Does lecher in my sight. Let Copulation thrive: For Glousters bastard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got between the lawful sheets. Too't Luxury pellmell, for I lack Soldiers. Behold yond simpering Dame, whose face between her Forks presages Snow; that minces Virtue, & does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. The Fitchow, nor the soiled Horse goes too't with a more riotous appetite: Down from the waste they are Centaurs, though Women all above: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption: Fie, fie, fie; pah, pah: Give me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary sweeten my imagination: There's money for thee. O let me kiss that hand. Let me wipe it first, It smells of Mortality. O ruined piece of Nature, this great world Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? I remember thine eyes well enough: dost thou squiny at me? No, do thy worst blind Cupid, I'll not love. Read thou this challenge, mark but the penning of it. Were all thy Letters Suns, I could not see. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breaks at it. Read. What with the Case of eyes? Oh ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light, yet you see how this world goes. I see it feelingly. What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears: See how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark in thine ear: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief: Thou hast seen a Farmer's dog bark at a Beggar? I Sir. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou mightst behold the great image of Authority, a Dogg's obeyed in Office. Thou, Rascal Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why dost thou lash that Whore? Strip thy own back, thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind, for which thou whip'st her. The Usurer hangs the Cozener. Through tattered clothes great Vices do appear: Robes, and Furred gowns hide all. Place sins with Gold, and the strong Lance of justice, hurtless breaks: Arm it in rags, a Pigmy's straw does pierce it. None does offend, none, I say none, I'll able 'em; take that of me my Friend, who have the power to seal th' accusers lips. Get thee glasse-eyes, and like a scurvy Politician, seem to see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Boots: harder, harder, so.
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)
The tricke of that voyce, I do well remember: Is't not the King? I, euery inch a King. When I do ſtare, ſee how the Subiect quakes, I pardon that mans life. What was thy cauſe? Adultery? thou ſhalt not dye: dye for Adultery? No, the Wren goes too't, and the ſmall gilded Fly Do's letcher in my ſight. Let Copulation thriue: For Glouſters baſtard Son was kinder to his Father, Then my Daughters got 'tweene the lawfull ſheets. Too't Luxury pell-mell, for I lacke Souldiers. Behold yond ſimpring Dame, whoſe face betweene her Forkes preſages Snow; that minces Vertue, & do's ſhake the head to heare of pleaſures name. The Fitchew, nor the ſoyled Horſe goes too't with a more riotous appetite▪ Downe from the waſte they are Centaures, though Women all aboue: but to the Girdle do the Gods inherit, beneath is all the Fiends. There's hell, there's darkenes, there is the ſulphurous pit; burning, ſcalding, ſtench, conſumption: Fye, fie, fie; pah, pah: Giue me an Ounce of Ciuet; good Apothecary ſweeten my immagination: There's money for thee. O let me kiſſe that hand. Let me wipe it firſt, It ſmelles of Mortality. O ruin'd peece of Nature, this great world Shall ſo weare out to naught. Do'ſt thou know me? I remember thine eyes well enough: doſt thou ſquiny at me? No, doe thy worſt blinde Cupid, Ile not loue. Reade thou this challenge, marke but the penning of it. Were all thy Letters Sunnes, I could not ſee. I would not take this from report, It is, and my heart breakes at it. Read. What with the Caſe of eyes? Oh ho, are you there with me? No eies in your head, nor no mony in your purſe? Your eyes are in a heauy caſe, your purſe in a light, yet you ſee how this world goes. I ſee it feelingly. What, art mad? A man may ſee how this world goes, with no eyes. Looke with thine eares: See how yond Iuſtice railes vpon yond ſimple theefe. Hearke in thine eare: Change places, and handy-dandy, which is the Iuſtice, which is the theefe: Thou haſt ſeene a Farmers dogge barke at a Beggar? I Sir. And the Creature run from the Cur: there thou might'ſt behold the great image of Authoritie, a Dogg's obey'd in Office. Thou, Raſcall Beadle, hold thy bloody hand: why doſt thou laſh that Whore? Strip thy owne backe, thou hotly luſts to vſe her in that kind, for which thou whip'ſt her. The Vſurer hangs the Cozener. Thorough tatter'd cloathes great Vices do appeare: Robes, and Furr'd gownes hide all. Place ſinnes with Gold, and the ſtrong Lance of Iuſtice, hurtleſſe breakes: Arme it in ragges, a Pigmies ſtraw do's pierce it. None do's offend, none, I ſay none, Ile able 'em; take that of me my Friend, who haue the power to ſeale th' accuſers lips. Get thee glaſſe-eyes, and like a ſcuruy Politician, ſeeme to ſee the things thou doſt not. Now, now, now, now. Pull off my Bootes: harder, harder, ſo.