Shakespeare, William · published 1609 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · Globe T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.83 · 499 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
His purpose meets you? 'twas to bring this Greek, To Calcho's house, and there to render him: For the enfreed Anthenor the fair Cressida, Let's have your company, or if you please, Hast there before us. I constantly believe, (Or rather call my thought a certain knowledge) My brother Troylus lodges there to night, Rouse him and give him note of our approach, With the whole quality wherefore: I fear we shall be much unwelcome. That I assure you: Troylus had had rather Troy were borne to Greece, then Cresseid borne from Troy. There is no help. The bitter disposition of the time will have it so: On Lord, we'll follow you. Good morrow all. And tell me noble Dieted, faith tell me true, Even in soul of sound good fellowship, Who in your thoughts, deserves fair Helen best, Myself, or Menelaus. Both alike. He merits well to have her that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soil, With such a hell of pain, and world of charge. And you as well to keep her, that defend her, Not pallating the taste of her dishonour With such a costly loss of wealth and friends, He like a puling Cuckold would drink up, The legs and dregs of a flat tamed piece: You like a lecher out of whorish loins, Are pleased to breed out your inheritors, Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more, But he as he, the heavier for a whore. You are too bitter to your countrywoman. she's bitter to her country, hear me Paris, For every false drop in her bawdy veins, A Grecians life hath sunke: for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight, A Trojan hath been slain. Since she could speak, She hath not given so many good words breath, As for her Greels and Trojans suffered death. Fair Diomedes you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that they desire to buy, But we in silence hold this virtue well, we'll not commend, what we intend to sell. here lies our way. Dear, trouble not yourself, the morn is cold. Then sweet my Lord i'll call mine uncle down, He shall unbolt the gates Trouble him not. To bed to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants empty of all thought. Good morrow then. I prithee now to bed. Are you a weary of me? O Cresseid! but that the buie da, Waked by the Lark hath rouzd the ribald Crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. Night hath been too brief. Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays As tediously as hell, But flies the grasps of love, With wings more momentary swift then thought, You will catch cold and curse me. Prithee tarry, you men will never tarry, O foolish Cresseid, I might have still held of, And then you would have tarried, Hark there's one up.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1695–1760 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 32 of 50 in this edition
Length
499 words · 679 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T7 — The Trojan war: conflict and its aftermathcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.833 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
His purpose meetes you▪ twas to bring this Greeke, To Calcho's house, and there to render him: For the enfreed Ahenor the faire Cressid, Lets haue your company, or if you please, Hast there before vs. I constantly beleeue, (Or rather call my thought a certaine knowledge) My brother Troyls ges there to night, Roufe him and giue him note of our approch▪ With the whole quality wherefore: I feare we shall be much vnwelcom. That I assure you: Trylhd rather Troy were borne to Greece, then Cressied borne from Troy. There is no helpe. The bitter disposition of the time will haue it so: On Lord, weele follow you. Good morrow all. And tell me noble Died, faith tell me true, Euen in soule of sound good fellowship, Who in your thoughts, deserues faire Helen best, My selfe, or Menlaus. Both like▪ Hee merits well to haue her that doth seeke her, Not making any scruple of her oyle, With such hel of paine, and world of charg. And you as well to keepe her, that defend her, Not pallating the afte of her dishonour With such a costly losse of wealth and friends, He like a puling Cukold would drinke vp, The les and dreg of a flat tamed peece: You like a lecher out of whorish loynes, Are pleasd to breed out your inheriors, Both merits poyzd, each weighs nor lesse nor more, But he as he, the huir for a whore. You are too bitter to your country-woman▪ Shees bitter to her country▪ heare me Paris, For euery fale dop in her bawdy veines, A Grecians life hath for euery scruple Of her contaminated cartion waght, A Troyan hath beene slaine. Since she could speake, Shee hath not giuen so many good words breath, As for her Greeke and Troyans suffed death. Faire Diomed you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that they de to buy, But we in silence hold this vertue well, Weele not commend, what wee inted to sell. Heere lyes our way. Deere, trouble not your selfe, the morne is colde. Then sweet my Lord ile call mine vnckle downe, Hee shall vnbolt the Trouble him not. To bed to bed: sleepe kill those prity eyes, And giue as soft aachment to thy sences, As infants empty of all thought. Good morrow then. pithee now to bed. Are you a weary of me? O Cresseid! but that the buie da, Wak't by the Larke hath rouzd the ribald Crowes, And dreaming night will hide our ioyes no longer, I would not from thee. Night hath beene too briee. Bshrew the witch I with venemous wight she stai As ediously as hll, But flies the graspes of loue, With wings more momentary swift then thought, You will catch colde and crse me. Prithee arry, you men will neuer tarry, O foolish Cresseid▪ I might haue still held of, And then you would haue tarried, Harke ther's one vp.