Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Come to the Port. I'll tell thee Diomedes, This brave, shall oft make thee to hide thy head: Lady, give me your hand, and as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk. Hark, Hector's Trumpet. How have we spent this morning The Prince must think me tardy and remiss, That swore to ride before him in the field. 'Tis Troilus fault: come, come, to field with him. Let us make ready strait. Yea, with a Bridegroom's fresh alacrity Let us address to tend on Hector's heels: The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth, and single Chivalry. Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating time. With starting courage, Give with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy Thou dreadful Aiax, that the appalled air May pierce the head of the great Combatant, And hale him hither. Thou, Trumpet, there's my purse; Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: Blow villain, till thy sphered Bias cheek Out-swell the colic of puffed Aquilon: Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood: Thou blowest for Hector. No Trumpet answers. 'Tis but early days. Is not young Diomedes with Calcas daughter? 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate, He rises on the toe: that spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth. Is this the Lady Cressida? Even she. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet Lady. Our General doth salute you with a kiss. Yet is the kindness but particular; 'twere better she were kissed in general. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. So much for Nestor. I'll take that winter from your lips fair Lady Achilles bids you welcome. I had good argument for kissing once. But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus popped Paris in his hardiment. Oh deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns, For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns. The first was Menelaus kiss, this mine: Patroclus kisses you. Oh this is trim. Paris and I kiss evermore for him. I'll have my kiss sir: Lady by your leave. In kissing do you render, or receive. Both take and give. I'll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give: therefore no kiss. I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. You are an odd man, give even, or give none. An odd man Lady, every man is odd. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true, That you are odd, and he is even with you. You fillip me o' th' head. No, I'll be sworn. It were no match, your nail against his horn: May I sweet Lady beg a kiss of you? You may. I do desire it. Why beg then? Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss: When Helen is a maid again, and his—
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Come to the Port. Ile tell thee Diomed, This braue, ſhall oft make thee to hide thy head: Lady, giue me your hand, and as we walke, To our owne ſelues bend we our needefull talke. Harke, Hectors Trumpet. How haue we ſpent this morning The Prince muſt thinke me tardy and remiſſe, That ſwore to ride before him in the field. 'Tis Troylus fault: come, come, to field with him. Let vs make ready ſtraight. Yea, with a Bridegroomes freſh alacritie Let vs addreſſe to tend on Hectors heeles: The glory of our Troy doth this day lye On his faire worth, and ſingle Chiualrie. Here art thou in appointment freſh and faire, Anticipating time. With ſtarting courage, Giue with thy Trumpet a loud note to Troy Thou dreadfull Aiax, that the appauled aire May pierce the head of the great Combatant, And hale him hither. Thou, Trumpet, ther's my purſe; Now cracke thy lungs, and ſplit thy braſen pipe: Blow villaine, till thy ſphered Bias cheeke Out-ſwell the collicke of puft Aquilon: Come, ſtretch thy cheſt, and let thy eyes ſpout bloud: Thou bloweſt for Hector. No Trumpet anſwers. 'Tis but early dayes. Is not yong Diomed with Calcas daughter? 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gate, He riſes on the toe: that ſpirit of his In aſpiration lifts him from the earth. Is this the Lady Creſſid? Euen ſhe. Moſt deerely welcome to the Greekes, ſweete Lady. Our Generall doth ſalute you with a kiſſe. Yet is the kindeneſſe but particular; 'twere better ſhe were kiſt in generall. And very courtly counſell: Ile begin. So much for Neſtor. Ile take that winter from your lips faire Lady Achilles bids you welcome. I had good argument for kiſſing once. But that's no argument for kiſſing now; For thus pop't Paris in his hardiment. Oh deadly gall, and theame of all our ſcornes, For which we looſe our heads, to gild his hornes. The firſt was Menelaus kiſſe, this mine: Patroclus kiſſes you. Oh this is trim. Paris and I kiſſe euermore for him. Ile haue my kiſſe ſir: Lady by your leaue. In kiſſing doe you render, or receiue. Both take and giue. Ile make my match to liue, The kiſſe you take is better then you giue: therefore no kiſſe. Ile giue you boote, Ile giue you three for one. You are an odde man, giue euen, or giue none. An odde man Lady, euery man is odde. No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true, That you are odde, and he is euen with you. You fillip me a' th' head. No, Ile be ſworne. It were no match, your naile againſt his horne: May I ſweete Lady beg a kiſſe of you? You may. I doe deſire it. Why begge then? Why then for Venus ſake, giue me a kiſſe: When Hellen is a maide againe, and his—