Shakespeare, William / Wilkins, George · published 1609 · first performed or written 1608 [1606-1608] (Annals) romance · King's Men · Globe unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
But you my Knight and guest, To whom this Wreath of victory I give, And crown you King of this days happiness. 'tis more by Fortune (Lady) than my Merit. Call it by what you will, the day is your, And here (I hope) is none that envies it: In framing an Artist, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed, And you are her laboured scholar: come Queen a th'feast, For (Daughter) so you are; here take your place: martial the rest, as they deserve their grace. We are honoured much by good Symonides. Your presence glads our days, honour we love, For who hates honour, hates the Gods above. Sir, yonder is your place. Some other is more fit. Contend not sir, for we are Gentlemen, have neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, Envies the great, nor shall the low despise. You are right courteous Knights. Sit sir, sit. By Ioue (I wonder) that is King of thoughts, These Cates resist me, he not thought upon. By Iuno (that is Queen of marriage) All Viands that I eat do seem unsavoury, Wishing him my meat: sure he's a gallant Gentleman. he's but a country Gentleman: has done no more Than other Knights have done, has broken a Staff, Or so; so let it pass. To me he seems like Diamond, to Glass. You Kings to me, like to my father's picture, Which tells in that glory once he was, Had Princes sit like Stars about his throne, And he the Sun for them to reverence; None that beheld him, but like lesser lights, Did vail their Crowns to his supremacy; Where now his son like a Glow-worm in the night, The which hath Fire in darkness, none in light: Whereby I see that Time's the King of men, he's both their Parent, and he is their Grave, And gives them what he will, not what they crave. What, are you merry, Knights? Who can be other, in this royal presence. here, with a Cup that's stirred unto the brim, As do you love, fill to your Mistress lips, We drink this health to you. We thank your Grace. Yet pause awhile, yond Knight doth sit too melancholy, As if the entertainment in our Court, Had not a show might countervail his worth: Note it not you, Thaisa. What is't to me, my father? O attend my Daughter, Princes in this, should live like Gods above, Who freely give to every one that come to honour them: And Princes not doing so, are like to Gnats, Which make a sound, but killed, are wondered at: Therefore to make his entrance more sweet, here, say we drink this standing bowl of wine to him. Alas my Father, it befits not me, Unto a stranger Knight to be so bold, He may my proffer take for an offence, Since men take women's gifts for impudence.
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)
But you my Knight and guest, To whom this Wreath of victorie I giue, And crowne you King of this dayes happinesse. Tis more by Fortune (Lady) then my Merit. Call it by what you will, the day is your, And here (I hope) is none that enuies it: In framing an Artist, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed, And you are her labourd scholler: come Queene a th'feast, For (Daughter) so you are; heere take your place: Martiall the rest, as they deserue their grace. We are honour'd much by good Smonides. Your presence glads our dayes, honour we loue, For who hates honour, hates the Gods aboue. Sir, yonder is your place. Some other is more fit. Contend not sir, for we are Gentlemen, Hae neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, Enuies the great, nor shall the low despise. You are right courtious Knights. Sit sir, sit. By oue (I wonder) that is King of thoughts, These Cates resist mee, hee not thought vpon. By Iuno (that is Queene of mariage) All Viands that I eate do seeme vnsauery, Wishing him my meat: sure hee's a gallant Gentleman. Hee's but a countrie Gentleman: ha's done no more Then other Knights haue done, ha's broken a Staffe, Or so; so let it passe. To mee he seemes like Diamond, to Glasse. You Kings to mee, like to my fathers picture, Which tels in that glory once he was, Had Princes sit like Starres about his Throne, And hee the Sunne for them to reuerence; None that beheld him, but like lesser lights, Did vaile their Crownes to his supremacie; Where now his sonne like a Gloworme in the night, The which hath Fire in darknesse, none in light: Whereby I see that Time's the King of men, Hee's both their Parent, and he is their Graue, And giues them what he will, not what they craue. What▪ are you merry, Knights? Who can be other, in this royall presence. Heere, with a Cup that's stur'd vnto the brim, As do you loue, fill to your Mistris lippes, Wee drinke this health to you. We thanke your Grace. Yet pause awhile, yon Knight doth sit too melancholy, As if the entertainement in our Court, Had not a shew might counteruaile his worth: Note it not you, Thaisa. What is't to me, my father? O attend my Daughter, Princes in this, should liue like Gods aboue, Who freely giue to euery one that come to honour them: And Princes not doing so, are like to Gnats, Which make a sound, but kild, are wondred at: Therefore to make his entraunce more sweet, Heere, say wee drinke this standing boule of wine to him. Alas my Father, it befits not mee, Vnto a stranger Knight to be so bold, He may my profer take for an offence, Since men take womens giftes for impudenc.