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 0.81 · 480 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
You are amazed, my Liege, at her exclaim: Go in and cheer the Town, we'll forth and fight: Do deeds of praise, and tell you them at night. Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee. They are at it, hark: proud Diomedes, believe I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. Do you hear my Lord? do you hear? What now? Here's a Letter come from yond poor girl. Let me read. A whoreson tissick, a whoreson rascally tissick, so troubles me; and the foolish fortune of this girl, and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o' this days: and I have a rheum in mine eyes too; and such an ache in my bones; that unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell what to think on't. What says she there? Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart; Th' effect doth operate another way. Go wind to wind, there turn and change together: My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edifies another with her deeds. Why, but hear you? Hence brother lackey; ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name. Now they are clapper-clawing one another, I'll go look on: that dissembling abominable varlet Diomedes, has got that same scurvy, doting, foolish young knave's Sleeve of Troy, there in his Helm: I would fain see them meet; that, that same young Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send that Greekish whore-maisterly villain, with the Sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless errant. O' th' other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals; that stole old Mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor: and that same dog-foxe Ulysses is not proved worth a Black-berry. They set me up in policy, that mongrel cur Aiax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles. And now is the cur Aiax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaim barbarism; and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft, here comes Sleeve, and th' other. Fly not: for shouldst thou take the River Styx, I would swim after. Thou dost miscall retire: I do not fly; but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude: Have at thee? Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore Trojan: Now the Sleeve, now the Sleeve. What art thou Greek? art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood, and honour? No, no: I am a rascal: a scurvy railing knave: a very filthy rogue. I do believe thee, live. God a mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck— for frighting me: what's become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle— yet in a sort, lechery ears itself: I'll seek them.
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)
You are amaz'd, my Liege, at her exclaime: Goe in and cheere the Towne, weele forth and fight: Doe deedes of praiſe, and tell you them at night. Farewell: the gods with ſafetie ſtand about thee. They are at it, harke: proud Diomed, beleeue I come to looſe my arme, or winne my ſleeue. Doe you heare my Lord? do you heare? What now? Here's a Letter come from yond poore girle. Let me reade. A whorſon tiſicke, a whorſon raſcally tiſicke, ſo troubles me; and the fooliſh fortune of this girle, and what one thing, what another, that I ſhall leaue you one o' th's dayes: and I haue a rheume in mine eyes too; and ſuch an ache in my bones; that vnleſſe a man were curſt, I cannot tell what to thinke on't. What ſayes ſhee there? Words, words, meere words, no matter from the heart; Th' effect doth operate another way. Goe winde to winde, there turne and change together: My loue with words and errors ſtill ſhe feedes; But edifies another with her deedes. Why, but heare you? Hence brother lackie; ignomie and ſhame Purſue thy life, and liue aye with thy name. Now they are clapper-clawing one another, Ile goe looke on: that diſſembling abhominable varlet Diomede, has got that ſame ſcuruie, doting, fooliſh yong knaues Sleeue of Troy, there in his Helme: I would faine ſee them meet; that, that ſame yong Troian aſſe, that loues the whore there, might ſend that Greekiſh whore-maiſterly villaine, with the Sleeue, backe to the diſſembling luxurious drabbe, of a ſleeueleſſe errant. O' th' tother ſide, the pollicie of thoſe craftie ſwearing raſcals; that ſtole old Mouſe-eaten dry cheeſe, Neſtor: and that ſame dog-foxe Vliſſes is not prou'd worth a Black-berry. They ſet me vp in pollicy, that mungrill curre Aiax, againſt that dogge of as bad a kinde, Achilles. And now is the curre Aiax prouder then the curre Achilles, and will not arme to day. Whereupon, the Grecians began to proclaime barbariſme; and pollicie growes into an ill opinion. Soft, here comes Sleeue, and th' other. Flye not: for ſhould'ſt thou take the Riuer Stix, I would ſwim after. Thou do'ſt miſcall retire: I doe not flye; but aduantagious care Withdrew me from the oddes of multitude: Haue at thee? Hold thy whore Grecian: now for thy whore Troian: Now the Sleeue, now the Sleeue. What art thou Greek? art thou for Hectors match? Art thou of bloud, and honour? No, no: I am a raſcall: a ſcuruie railing knaue: a very filthy roague. I doe beleeue thee, liue. God a mercy, that thou wilt beleeue me; but a plague breake thy necke—for frighting me: what's become of the wenching rogues? I thinke they haue ſwallowed one another. I would laugh at that miracle—yet in a ſort, lecherie eares it ſelfe: Ile ſeeke them.