Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T48 Addressing a lady: love, desire and inti · 472 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T48: lady, love, heart, fair, eyes, la, lord, tears, fie, face.
I pray thee stay? You have not patience, come. I pray you stay? by hell and hell torments, I will not speak a word. And so good night. Nay, but you part in anger. Doth that grieve thee? O withered truth! Why, how now Lord? By Ioue I will be patiented. Guardian? why Greek? Foyes, foe, adieu, you palter, In faith I do not: come hither once again. You shake my Lord at something; will you go? you will break out. She strokes his cheek. Come, come. Nay stay, by Ioue I will not speak a word. There is between my will, and all offences, A guard of patience; stay a little while. How the devil Luxury with his fat rump and potato finger, tickles these together: fry lechery, fry. But will you then? In faith I will lo; never trust me else. Give me some token for the surety of it. I'll fetch you one. You have sworn patience. Fear me not sweet Lord. I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel: I am all patience. Now the pledge, now, now, now. Here Diomedes, keep this Sleeve. O beauty! where is thy Faith? My Lord. I will be patiented, outwardly I will. You look upon that Sleeve? behold it well: He loved me: O false wench: give't me again. Whose was't? It is no matter now I have't again. I will not meet with you to morrow night: I prithee Diomedes visit me no more. Now she sharpens: well said Whetstone. I shall have it. What, this? I that. O all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge; Thy Master now lies thinking in his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my Glove, And gives memorial dainty kisses to it; As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me. He that takes that, rakes my heart withal. I had your heart before, this follows it. I did swear patience. You shall not have it Diomedes; faith you shall not: I'll give you something else. I will have this: whose was it? It is no matter. Come tell me whose it was? 'Twas one that loved me better than you will. But now you have it, take it. Whose was it? By all Dianas waiting women yond: And by herself, I will not tell you whose. To morrow will I wear it on my Helm, And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. Wert thou the devil, and worest it on thy horn. It should be challenged. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past; and yet it is not: I will not keep my word. Why then farewell, Thou never shalt mock Diomedes again. You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, But it straight starts you. I do not like this fooling.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I pray thee ſtay? You haue not patience, come. I pray you ſtay? by hell and hell torments, I will not ſpeake a word. And ſo good night. Nay, but you part in anger. Doth that grieue thee? O withered truth! Why, how now Lord? By Ioue I will be patient. Gardian? why Greeke? Fo, fo, adew, you palter, In faith I doe not: come hither once againe. You ſhake my Lord at ſomething; will you goe? you will breake out. She ſtroakes his cheeke. Come, come. Nay ſtay, by Ioue I will not ſpeake a word. There is betweene my will, and all offences, A guard of patience; ſtay a little while. How the diuell Luxury with his fat rumpe and potato finger, tickles theſe together: frye lechery, frye. But will you then? In faith I will lo; neuer truſt me elſe. Giue me ſome token for the ſurety of it. Ile fetch you one. You haue ſworne patience. Feare me not ſweete Lord. I will not be my ſelfe, nor haue cognition Of what I feele: I am all patience. Now the pledge, now, now, now. Here Diomed, keepe this Sleeue. O beautie! where is thy Faith? My Lord. I will be patient, outwardly I will. You looke vpon that Sleeue? behold it well: He lou'd me: O falſe wench: giue't me againe. Whoſe was't? It is no matter now I haue't againe. I will not meete with you to morrow night: I prythee Diomed viſite me no more. Now ſhe ſharpens: well ſaid Whetſtone. I ſhall haue it. What, this? I that. O all you gods! O prettie, prettie pledge; Thy Maiſter now lies thinking in his bed Of thee and me, and ſighes, and takes my Gloue, And giues memoriall daintie kiſſes to it; As I kiſſe thee. Nay, doe not ſnatch it from me. He that takes that, rakes my heart withall. I had your heart before, this followes it. I did ſweare patience. You ſhall not haue it Diomed; faith you ſhall not: Ile giue you ſomething elſe. I will haue this: whoſe was it? It is no matter. Come tell me whoſe it was? 'Twas one that lou'd me better then you will. But now you haue it, take it. Whoſe was it? By all Diana waiting women yond: And by her ſelfe, I will not tell you whoſe. To morrow will I weare it on my Helme, And grieue his ſpirit that dares not challenge it. Wert thou the diuell, and wor'ſt it on thy horne. It ſhould be challeng'd. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis paſt; and yet it is not: I will not keepe my word. Why then farewell, Thou neuer ſhalt mocke Diomed againe. You ſhall not goe: one cannot ſpeake a word, But it ſtrait ſtarts you. I doe not like this fooling.