Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.79 · 517 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
I will see you hanged like Clotpoles ere I come any more to your Tents; I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools. A good riddance. Marry this Sin is proclaimed through all our host, That Hector by the sift hour of the Sun, Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy To morrow morning call some Knight to Arms, That hath a stomach, and such a one that dare Maintain I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell. Farewell? who shall answer him? I know not, 'tis put to Lottry: otherwise He knew his man. O meaning you, I will go learn more of it. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks, Deliver Helen, and all damage else (As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this comorant War) Shall be struck off. Hector, what say you too't. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I, As far as touches my particular: yet dread Priam, There is no Lady of more softer bowels, More spongy, to suck in the sense of Fear, More ready to cry out, who knows what follows Then Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, Surety secure: but modest Doubt is called The Beacon of the wise: the tent that searches To ' th' bottom of the worst. Let Helen go, Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe soul 'mongst many thousand dimes, Hath been as dear as Helen: I mean of ours: If we have lost so many tenths of ours To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us (Had it our name) the value of one ten; What merit's in that reason which denies The yielding of her up. Fie, fie, my Brother; Weigh you the worth and honour of a King (So great as our dread Father) in a Scale Of common Ounces? Will you with Counters sum The past proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waste most fathomless, With spans and inches so diminutive, As fears and reasons? Fie for godly shame? No marvel though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them, should not our Father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none that tells him so. You are for dreams & slumbers brother Priest You fur your gloves with reason: here are your reasons You know an enemy intends you harm, You know, a sword employed is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm. Who marvels then when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels: Or like a Star disorbed. Nay, if we talk of Reason, And fly like chidden Mercury from Ioue, Let's shut our gates and sleep: Manhood and Honour Should have hard hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this crammed reason: reason and respect, Makes Livers pale, and lustyhood deject.
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 wil ſee you hang'd like Clotpoles ere I come any more to your Tents; I will keepe where there is wit ſtirring, and leaue the faction of fooles. A good riddance. Marry this Sin is proclaim'd through al our hoſt, That Hector by the ſift houre of the Sunne, Will with a Trumpet, 'twixt our Tents and Troy To morrow morning call ſome Knight to Armes, That hath a ſtomacke▪ and ſuch a one that dare Maintaine I know not what: 'tis traſh. Farewell. Farewell? who ſhall anſwer him? I know not, 'tis put to Lottry: otherwiſe He knew his man. O meaning you, I wil go learne more of it. After ſo many houres, liues, ſpeeches ſpent, Thus once againe ſayes Neſtor from the Greekes, Deliuer Helen, and all damage elſe (As honour, loſſe of time, trauaile, expence, Wounds, friends, and what els deere that is conſum'd In hot digeſtion of this comorant Warre) Shall be ſtroke off. Hector, what ſay you too't. Though no man leſſer feares the Greeks then I, As farre as touches my particular: yet dread Priam, There is no Lady of more ſofter bowels, More ſpungie, to ſucke in the ſenſe of Feare, More ready to cry out, who knowes what followes Then Hector is: the wound of peace is ſurety, Surety ſecure: but modeſt Doubt is cal'd The Beacon of the wiſe: the tent that ſearches To' th' bottome of the worſt. Let Helen go, Since the firſt ſword was drawne about this queſtion, Euery tythe ſoule 'mongſt many thouſand diſmes, Hath bin as deere as Helen: I meane of ours: If we haue loſt ſo many tenths of ours To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to vs (Had it our name) the valew of one ten; What merit's in that reaſon which denies The yeelding of her vp. Fie, fie, my Brother; Weigh you the worth and honour of a King (So great as our dread Father) in a Scale Of common Ounces? Wil you with Counters ſumme The paſt proportion of his infinite, And buckle in a waſte moſt fathomleſſe, With ſpannes and inches ſo diminutiue, As feares and reaſons? Fie for godly ſhame? No maruel though you bite ſo ſharp at reaſons, You are ſo empty of them, ſhould not our Father Beare the great ſway of his affayres with reaſons, Becauſe your ſpeech hath none that tels him ſo. You are for dreames & ſlumbers brother Prieſt You furre your gloues with reaſon: here are your reaſons You know an enemy intends you harme, You know, a ſword imploy'd is perillous, And reaſon flyes the obiect of all harme. Who maruels then when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his ſword, if he do ſet The very wings of reaſon to his heeles: Or like a Starre diſorb'd. Nay, if we talke of Reaſon, And flye like chidden Mercurie from Ioue, Let's ſhut our gates and ſleepe: Manhood and Honor Should haue hard hearts, wold they but fat their thoghts With this cramm'd reaſon: reaſon and reſpect, Makes Liuers pale▪ and luſtyhood deiect.