Shakespeare, William / Wilkins, George · published 1609 · first performed or written 1608 [1606-1608] (Annals) romance · King's Men · Globe T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.72 · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
But tidings to the contrary, Are brought your eyes, what need speak I. Good Helicon that stayed at home, Not to eat Honey like a Drone, From others labours; for though he strive To killen bad, keep good alive: And to fulfil his prince desire, Saved one of all, that haps in Tyre: How Thaliart came full bent with sin, And had intent to murder him; And that in Tharsis was not best, Longer for him to make his rest: He doing so, put forth to Seas; Where when men been, there's seldom ease, For now the Wind begins to blow, Thunder above, and deeps below, Makes such unquiet, that the Ship, Should house him safe; is wracked and split, And he (good Prince) having all lost, By Waves, from coast to coast is tossed: All perishen of man, of pelf, Ne ought escapend but himself; Till Fortune tired with doing bad, Threw him a shore, to give him glad: And here he comes: what shall be next, Pardon old Gower, this long's the text. Yet cease your ire you angry Stars of heaven, Wind, Rain, and Thunder, remember earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you: And I (as fits my nature) do obey you. Alas, the Seas hath cast me on the Rocks, Washed me from shore to shore, and left my breath Nothing to think on, but ensuing death: Let it suffice the greatness of your powers, To have bereft a Prince of all his fortunes; And having thrown him from your watery grave, here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave. What, to pelch? Ha, come and bring away the Nets. What Patch-breech, I say. What say you Master? Look how thou stirrest now: Come away, or I'll fetchthee with a wanion. faith Master, I am thinking of the poor men, That were cast away before us even now. Alas poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear, What pitiful cries they made to us, to help them, When (welladay) we could scarce help ourselves. Nay Master, said not I as much, When I saw the Porpas how he bounced and tumbled? They say they're half fish, half flesh: A plague on them, they near come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the Fishes live in the Sea? Why, as Men do aland; The great ones eat up the little ones: I can compare our rich Misers to nothing so fitly, As to a Whale; a plays and tumbles, driving the poor Fry before him, And at last, devour them all at a mouthful: Such Whales have I heard on, a'th' land, Who never leave gaping, till they swallowed The whole Parish, Church, Steeple, Bells and all. A pretty moral. But Master, if I had been the Sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry. Why, Man?
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)
But tidinges to the contrarie, Are brought your eyes, what need speake I. Good Helicon that stayde at home, Not to eate Hony like a Drone, From others labours; for though he striue To killen bad, keepe good aliue: And to fulfill his prince desire, Sau'd one of all, that haps in Tyre: How Thalirt came full bent with sinne, And had in tent to murder him; And that in Tharsis was not best, Longer for him to make his rest: He doing so, put foorth to Seas; Where when men been, there's seldome ease, For now the Wind begins to blow, Thunder aboue, and deepes below, Makes such vnquiet, that the Shippe, Should house him safe; is wrackt and split, And he (good Prince) hauing all lost, By Waues, from coast to coast is tost: All perishen of man of pelfe, Ne ought escaped but himselfe; Till Fortune tir'd with doing bad, Threw him a shore, to giue him glad: And heere he comes: what shall be next, Pardon old Gower, this long's the text. Yet cease your ire you angry Starres of heauen, Wind, Raine, and Thunder, remember earthly man Is but a substaunce that must yeeld to you: And I (as fits my nature) do obey you. Alasse, the Seas hath cast me on the Rocks, Washt me from shore to shore, and left my breath Nothing to thinke on, but ensuing death: Let it suffize the greatnesse of your powers, To haue bereft a Prince of all his fortunes; And hauing throwne him from your watry grau, Heere to haue death in peace, is all hee'le craue. What, to pelch? Ha, come and bring away the Nets. What Patch-breech, I say. What say you Maister? Looke how thou stirr'st now: Come away, or Ile fetch'th with a wanion. Fayth Maister, I am thinking of the poore men, That were cast away before vs euen now. Alasse poore soules, it grieued my heart to heare, What pittifull cryes they made to vs, to helpe them, When (welladay) we could scarce helpe our selues. Nay Maister, sayd not I as much, When I saw the Porpas how he bounst and tumbled? They say they're halfe fish, halfe flesh: A plague on them, they nere come but I looke to be washt. Maister, I maell how the Fishes liue in the Sea? Why, as Men a-land; The great ones eate vp little ones: I can compare our rich Misers o nothing so fitly, As to a Whale; a playes and tumbles, Dryuing the poore Fry before him, And at last, deuowre them all at a mouthfull: Such Whales haue I heard on, a'th land, Who neuer leaue gaping, till they swallow'd The whole Parish, Church, Steeple, Belles and all. A prettie morall. But Maister, if I had been the Sexton, I would haue been that day in the belfrie. Why, Man?