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 0.84 · 505 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.
I do disdain thy courtesy proud Trojan, Be happy that my arms are out of use: My rest and negligence befriends thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again: Till when go seek thy fortune. Fare thee well. I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee, how now my brother. Ajax hath ta'en Aeneas, shall it be, No by the flame of yonder glorious heaven He shall not carry him i'll be tane to to, Or bring him off, fate hear me what I say: I wreak not though I end my life to day. Stand, stand thou Greek, thou art a goodly mark, No? wilt thou not. I like thy armour well, I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all: But i'll be master of it, wilt thou not beast abide, Why then fly on, i'll hunt thee for thy hide. Come here about me you my Myrmidons, Mark what I say, attend me where I wheel: Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath, And when I have the bloody Hector found: Impale him with your weapons round about, In fellest manner execute your armes Follow me sirs and my proceedings eye, It is decreed Hector the great must die. The cuck-old and the cuck-old-maker are at it, now bull, now dog low, Paris low, now my double-henned hened spartan, low Paris, low the bull has the game, ware horns ho? Turn slave and fight. What art thou? A Bastard son of Priam's. I am a bastard too, I love bastards. I am bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate, one bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? take heed, the quarrels most ominous to us, if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgement, farewell bastard. The devil take thee coward. Most putrefied core so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life; Now is my days work done i'll take my breath: Rest sword thou hast thy fill of blood and death. Look Hector how the Sun begins to set, How ugly night comes breathing at his heels Even with the vail and darkening of the Sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. I am unarmed forego this vantage Greek. Strike fellows strike, this is the man I seek, So Illium fall thou next, come Troy sink down, Here lies thy heart, thy sinews and thy bone. On Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain, Hark a retire upon our Grecian prat. The Trojans trumpet sound the like my Lord. The dragon wing of night orespreds the earth, And stickler-like the armies separates. My half supped sword that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bait: thus goes to bed: Come tie his body to my horse's tail, Along the field I will the Trojan trail. Hark, hark, what is this? Peace drums. Achilles, Achilles, Hector's slain Achilles.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 2733–2789 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 49 of 50 in this edition
Length
505 words · 674 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T7 — The Trojan war: conflict and its aftermathcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.839 (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)
I do disdaine thy curtesie proud Troyan, Be happy that my armes are our of vse: My rest and negligence befriends thee now, But thou anon shalt here of me againe: Till when goe seke thy fortune. Fare thee well. I would haue beene much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee, how now my brother. Aiax hath tane Aeneas, shall it be, No by the flame of yonder glorious heauen He shall not carry him ile be tanoo, Or bring him off, fate here me what I say: I wreake not though I end my life to day. Stand, stand thou Greeke, thou art a goodly marke, No? wilt thou not. I like thy armor we'l, Ile frush it and vnoc the rinets all: But ile be maister of it, wilt thou not beast abide, Why then flie on, ile hunt thee for thy hide. Come here about me you my Myrmidous, Marke what I say, attend me where I wheele: Strike not a stroke, but keepe your selues in breth, And when I haue the bloudy Hector found: Empale him with your weapons round about, In fellest manner execut your ames Follow me sirs and my proceedings eye, It is decreed Hector the great must die. The cuck-old and the cock-old-maker are at it, now bull, now dogge lowe, Paris lowe, now my double hen'd spartan, lowe Paris, lowe the bull has the game, wate hornes ho? Turne slane and fight. What art thou? A Bastard sonne of Priams. I am a bastard too, I loue bastards. I am bastard be. got, bastard instructed, bastard in minde, bastard in va our, in cuery thing illigitimate, one beare wil not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? take heed, the quarrells most ominous to vs, if the sonne of a whore ight for a whore, he tempts iudgement, farewell bastard. The duell take thee coward. Most putrified core so faire without, Thy goodly armor thus hath cost thy life; Now is my daies worke done ile take my breth▪ Rest sword thou hast thy fill of bloud and death. Loke Hector how the Sunne begins to set, How ougly night comes breathing at his heeles Euen with the vaile and darkning of the Sunne, To cose the day vp, Hectors life is done. I am vnam'd sorgee this vantage Greeke. Strike fellowes rike, this is the an I seeke, So Illion fall thou next, come Troy sinke downe, Here lles thy heart, thy sinne wes and thy bone. On Myrmydous, and cry you all amaine, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slaine, Harke a retire vpon our Grecian prat. The Troyans trumpet sound the like my Lord. The dragon wing of night orespreds the earth, And stickler-like the aimies separates. My halse supt sword that frankly would haue fedde, Pleas'd with this dainty bake: thus goes to bed: Come tie his body to my horses taile, Along the field I will the Troyan traile. Hark, harke, what is this? Peace drums. Achilles, Achilles, Hectors slaine Achilles.