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 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
Far thee well: I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee: how now my Brother? Aiax hath ta'en Aeneas; shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, He shall not carry him: I'll be ta'en too, Or bring him off: Fate hear me what I say; I wreak nor, though thou 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 arm. Fellow me sirs, and my proceed eye; It is decreed, Hector the great must dye. The Cuckold and the Cuckold maker are at it: now bull, now dog, low; Paris low; now my double hened sparrow; low Paris, low; the bull has the game: aware 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 a 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 quarrel's 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 putrified core so fair without: Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my days work done; I'll take good 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 veil and darking of the Sun. To close the day up, Hector's life is done. I am unarmed, forgo this vantage Greek. Strike fellows, strike, this is the man I seek. So Illium fall thou: now Troy sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. On Myrmidons, cry you all a main, Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. Hark, a retreat upon our Grecian part. The Trojan Trumpets sounds the like my Lord. The dragon wing of night ore-spreds the earth And stickler-like the Armies separates My half supped Sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed. Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field, I will the Trojan trail. Hark, hark, what shout is that? Peace Drums. Achilles, Achilles, Hector's slain, Achilles. The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles. If it be so, yet braglesse let it be: Great Hector was a man as good as he.
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)
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 tane too, Or bring him off: Fate heare me what I ſay; I wreake nor, though thou end my life to day. Stand, ſtand, thou Greeke, Thou art a goodly marke: No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well, Ile fruſh it, and vnlocke the riuets all, But Ile be maiſter of it: wilt thou not beaſt abide? Why then flye on, Ile hunt thee for thy hide. Come here about me you my Myrmidons: Marke what I ſay; attend me where I wheele: Strike not a ſtroake, but keepe your ſelues in breath; And when I haue the bloudy Hector found, Empale him with your weapons round about: In felleſt manner execute your arme. Follow me ſirs, and my proceedings eye; It is decreed, Hector the great muſt dye. The Cuckold and the Cuckold maker are at it: now bull, now dogge, lowe; Paris lowe; now my double hen'd ſparrow; lowe Paris, lowe; the bull has the game: ware hornes ho? Turne ſlaue and fight. What art thou? A Baſtard Sonne of Priams. I am a Baſtard too, I loue Baſtards, I am a Baſtard begot, Baſtard inſtructed, Baſtard in minde, Baſtard in valour, in euery thing illegitimate: one Beare will not bite another, and wherefore ſhould one Baſtard? take heede, the quarrel's moſt ominous to vs: if the Sonne of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts iudgement: farewell Baſtard. The diuell take thee coward. Moſt putrified core ſo faire without: Thy goodly armour thus hath coſt thy life. Now is my daies worke done; Ile take good breath: Reſt Sword, thou haſt thy fill of bloud and death. Looke Hector how the Sunne begins to ſet; How vgly night comes breathing at his heeles, Euen with the vaile and darking of the Sunne. To cloſe the day vp, Hectors life is done. I am vnarm'd, forgoe this vantage Greeke. Strike fellowes, ſtrike, this is the man I ſeeke. So Illion fall thou: now Troy ſinke downe; Here lyes thy heart, thy ſinewes, and thy bone. On Myrmidons, cry you all a maine, Achilles hath the mighty Hector ſlaine. Harke, a retreat vpon our Grecian part. The Troian Trumpets ſounds the like my Lord. The dragon wing of night ore-ſpreds the earth And ſtickler-like the Armies ſeperates My halfe ſupt Sword, that frankly would haue fed, Pleas'd with this dainty bed; thus goes to bed. Come, tye his body to my horſes tayle; Along the field, I will the Troian traile. Harke, harke, what ſhout is that? Peace Drums. Achilles, Achilles, Hector's ſlaine, Achilles. The bruite is, Hector's ſlaine, and by Achilles. If it be ſo, yet bragleſſe let it be: Great Hector was a man as good as he.