Shakespeare, William · published 1609 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · Globe T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.76 · 547 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
I do believe it, For they passed by me as misers do by beggars, Neither gave to me good word nor look: What are my deeds forgot? Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion: A great sized monster of ingratitudes, Those scraps are good deeds passed, Which are devoured as fast as they are made, Forgot as soon as done, perseverance dear my Lord: Keeps honour bright, to have done, is to hang, Quite out of fashion like a rusty male, In monumental mockery? take the instant way, For honour travels in a strait so narrow: Where on but goes a breast, keep then the path For emulation hath a thousand Sons, That one by one pursue, if you give way, Or turn a side from the direct forth right: Like to an entered tie they all rush by, And leave you him, most, than what they do in present: Though less than yours in pass, must o'er top yours. For time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by th'hand, And with his arms outstretched as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: the welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. Let not virtue seek, Remuneration for the thing it was. For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in services, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all, To envious and calumniating One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gauds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And go to dust, that is a little guilt, More laud than guilt ore-dusted. The present eye praises the present object. Then marvel not thou great and complete man, That all the Greekes begin to worship Ajax; Since things in motion sooner catch the eye, That what stirs not. The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive, And case thy reputation in thy tent. Whose glorious deeds but in these fields of late, Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves, And drove great Mars to faction. Of this my privacy, I have strong reasons. But 'gainst your privacy, The reasons are more potent and heroical: 'tis known Achilles that you are in love With one of Priams daughters. H? knowne. Is that a wonder: The prouidence th in , Knows almost every thing, Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive depth, Keeps place with thought and almost like the gods, Do thoughts unveil in their dumb There is a mystery (with whom relation Durst never meddle) in the soul of state, Which hath an operation more divine, Then breath or pen can give expressure to: All the commerce that you have had with Troy, As perfectly is ours, as yours my Lord, And better would it fit, Achilles' much, To throw down Hector then Polixena. But it must grieve young Pirhus now at home, When fame shall in our islands sound her trump, And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, Great Hector's sister did Achilles win, But our great Ajax bravely beat down him: Farewell my Lord: I as your lover speak, The fool slides over the Ice that you should break.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1523–1596 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 29 of 50 in this edition
Length
547 words · 710 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T19 — Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractionsreviewed — decision pending · typicality 0.762 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I doe beleeue it, For they past by me as misers do by beggars, Neither gaue to me good word nor looke: What are my deeds forgot? Time hath (my Lord) a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts almes for obliuion: A great siz'd monster of ingratitudes, Those scraps are good deeds past, Which are deuour'd as fast as they are made, Forgot as soone as done, perseuerance deere my Lord▪ Keepes honour bright, to haue done, is to hang▪ Quite out of fashion like a ruty male, In monumentall mockry? take the instant way, For honour trauells in a straight so narrow: Where on but goes a brest, keepe then the path For emulation hath a thousand Sonnes, That one by one pursue, if you giue way, Or turne a side from the direct forth right: Like to an entred tide they all rush by, And leaue you him, most, then what they do in prsent: Though lesse then yours in passe, must ore top yours. For time is like a fashionable hoast, That slightly shakes hi parting gust by th'hand, And with his armes out-stretcht as he would flie, Graspes in the comme: the welcome euer smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. Let not vertue seeke, Remueration for the thing it wa. For beauty, wit, High bith, vigor of bone, desert in seruic Loue, friendship, charity, are subiects al, To enuous and calumniati gme, One ouch of nture makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-borne gaes, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And goe to dust, that is a little guilt, More laud then guilt oe-dusted. The present eye praises the present obiect. Then maruell not hou great and complet man, That all the Greekes begin to worship Aiax; Since things in moion sooner catch the eye, That what stirs not. The rie went oce on thee, And still it might, and yet it may againe, If thou wouldst not entombe thy selfe aliue, And case y repuation in thy tent. Whose glorious deeds but in ese filds of late, Made emulous missions mongst the gods them selues, And draue great Mars to faction. Of this my priuaie, I haue strong reasons. But gainst your priuacie, The reasons are more potent and heroycall: Tis knowne Aches that you are in loue With one of Pria daughters. H? knowne. Is that a wonder: The prouidence th in , Knowes almost ery thing, Findes boom in the vncomprehense depth, Keepes place with thought and almost like the gods, Do thoghts vnaile in their umbe There is a mysterie (with whom relation Durst neuer meddle) in the soule of state, Which hath an operation more diuine, Then breath or pen can giue expressure to: All the commerse that you haue had with Troy, As perfectly is ours, as yours my Lord, And better would it fitt, Achilles much, To throw downe Hector then Polixena. But it must grieue young Pirs now at home, When fame shall in our Ilands sound her trumpe, And all the Greekish girles shall tripping sing, Great Hectors sister did Achilles winne, But our great Aiax brauely beate downe him: Farewell my Lord: I as your louer speake, The foole slides ore the Ice that you should breake.