Shakespeare, William · published 1609 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · Globe T4 Love-longing and the lover's complaint typicality 0.76 · 510 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T4: love, heart, sweet, loves, fair, phillis, eyes, beauty, amyntas, lovers.
This she, no this is Diomed's Cresseida, If beauty have a soul this is not she: If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the gods delight: If there berule in unity itself, This was not she: O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against itself, By-found authority: where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason, Without revolt, This is and is not Cresseid, Within my soul there doth conduce a fight Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparat, Divides more wider than the sky and earth: And yet the spacious breadth of this division, Admits no orifice for a point as subtle, As Ariachna's broken woof to enter, Instance, O instance strong as Pluto's gates, Cresseid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven, Instance, O instance, strong as heaven itself, The bonds of heaven are slipped, dissolved and loosed, And with another knot find finger tied, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love. The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy relics. Of her ore-eaten faith, are glven to Diomedes, May worthy Troilus be half attached With that which here his passion doth express? I Greek, and that shall be divulged well In Characters as red as Mars his heart Inflamed with Venus: never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fixed a soul. Hark Greek, as much I do Cressida love, So much by weight, hate I her Diomedes: That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his Helm: Were it a Cask composed by Vulcan's skill My sword should bite it: Not the dreadful spout Which Shipmen do the hurricano call, constringed in Mass by the almighty sun Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear, in his descent, Then shall my prompted sword, falling on Diomed. he'll tickle it for his concupy. O Cressida, O false Cressida, false, false, false: Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they'll seem glorious, O contain yourself; Your passion draws ears hither. I have been seeking you this hour my Lord: Hector by this is arming him in Troy: Ajax your guard stays to conduct you home. Have with you Prince: my courteous Lord adieu, Farewell revolted fair: and Diomedes Stand fast, and wear a Castle on thy head. I'll bring you to the gates. Accept distracted thanks. Would I could meet that rogue Diomedes I would croak like a Raven. I would bode, I would bode: Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the Parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab: Lechery, lechery, still wars and lechery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning devil take them. When was my Lord so much ungently tempered, To stop his ears against admonishment: Unarm unarm, and do not fight to day. You train me to offend you, get you in, By all the everlasting gods I'll go. My dreams will sure prove ominous to the day. No more I say. Where is my brother Hector?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 2489–2550 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 45 of 50 in this edition
Length
510 words · 702 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T4 — Love-longing and the lover's complaintcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.756 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T2 · seed 44: T3 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
This she, no this is Dieds Cresseid, If beauty haue a soule this is not shee: If soules guide vowes, if vowes be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the gods delight: If there berule in vnitie it selfe, This was not shee: O manesse of discourse, That cause sets vp with and against it selfe, By-found authority: where reason can reuol Wthout perdition, and losse assume all reason, Without reuolt▪ This is and is not Cresseid, Within my foule there doth conduce a fight Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparat, Diuides more wider then the skie and earth: And yet the spacious bredth of this diuision, Admits no orifex for a point as subtle, As Ariachra's broken wooe to enter, Instance, O instance strong as Plus gates, Cresseid is mine, tied with the bonds of heauen, Instance, O instance, strong as heauen it selfe, The bonds of heauen are slipt, dissolu'd and loosd, And with another knot finde finger tied, The fractions of her faith, orts of her loue. The fragments, scraps, the bitts and greazie reliques. Of her ore-eaten faith, are gluen to Diomed, May worthy Troylus be halfe attached With that which heere his passion doth expresse? I Greeke, and that shall be divulged well In Characters as red as Mars his heart Inflam'd with Venus: neuer did young man fancy With so eternall and so ixt a soule. Harke Greeke, as much I do Cressid loue, So much by waight, hate I her Diomed: That sleeue is mine, that heele beare on his Helme: VVere it a Caske compos'd by Vuleans skill My sword should bite it: Not the dreadfull spout VVhich Shipmen do the hurricano call, Constringd in Masse by the almighty sunne Shal dizzy with more clamour Neptunes eare, in his discent, Then shall my prompted sword, alling on Diomed. Heele ticle it for his concupie. O Cressid, O false Cressid, false, false, false: Let all vntruthes stand by thy sained name, And theyle seeme glorious, O containe your selfe; Your passion drawes eares hether. I haue beene seeking you this houre my Lord: Hector by this is at ming him in Troy: Aiax your guard stayes to conduct you home. Haue with you Prince: my curteous Lord adiew, Farewell reuoulted faire: and Diomed Stand fast, and weare a Castle on thy head. Ile bring you to the gates. Accept distracted thankes. VVould I could meete that roague Diomed I would croke like a Rauen. I would bode, I would bode Patroclus will giue me any thing for the inteligence of this whore: the Paot will not do more for an almond then he for a commodious drab: Lechery, lechery, still warres and lechery, nothing else holds fashion. A burning diuell take them. When was my Lord so much vngently temperd, To stop his eares against admonishment: Vnarme vnarme, and do not fight to day. You traine me to offend you, get you in, By all the euerlasting gods Ile go. My dreames will sure prooue ominous to the day. No more I say. Where is my brother Hector?