Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1604 [c.1603-1604] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men T5 Christian faith, sin and salvation typicality 0.84 · 499 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T5: god, christ, david, sin, holy, israel, lord, mercy, sins, faith.
Hadst pleased Heaven, To try me with Affliction, had they rained All kind of Sores, and Shames on my barehead: Steeped me in poverty to the very lips, Given to Captivity, me, and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my Soul A drop of patience. But alas, to make me The fixed Figure for the time of Scorn, To point his slow, and moving finger at. Yet could I bear that too, well, very well: But there where I have garnerd up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life, The Fountain from the which my currant runs, Or else dries up: to be discarded thence, Or keep it as a Cistern, for foul Toads To knot and gender in. Turn thy complexion there: Patience, thou young and Rose-liped Cherubin, I here look grim as hell. I hope my Noble Lord esteems me honest. Oh I, as Summer Flies are in the Shambles, That quicken even with blowing. Oh thou weed: Who art so lovely fair, and smellest so sweet, That the Sense aches at thee, Would thou hadst never been borne. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? Was this fair Paper? This most goodly Book Made to write Whore upon? What committed, Committed? Oh, thou public Commoner, I should make very Forges of my cheeks, That would to Cinders burn up Modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed? Heaven stops the Nose at it, and the Moon winks: The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets, Is hushed within the hollow Mine of Earth And will not hear't. What committed? By Heaven you do me wrong. Are not you a Strumpet? No, as I am a Christian. If to preserve this vessel for my Lord, From any other foul unlawful touch Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none. What, not a Whore? No, as I shall be saved. Is't possible? Oh Heaven forgive us. I cry you mercy then. I took you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with Othello. You Mistress, That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keeps the gate of hell. You, you: I you. We have done our course: there's money for your pains: I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceive? How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady? Faith, half a sleep. Good Madam, What's the matter with my Lord? With who? Why, with my Lord, Madam? Who is thy Lord? He that is yours, sweet Lady. I have none: do not talk to me, Aemilia, I cannot weep: nor answers have I none, But what should go by water. Prithee to night, Lay on my bed my wedding sheets, remember, And call thy husband hither. here's a change indeed. 'Tis meet I should be used so: very meet. How have I been behaved, that he might stick The smallest opinion on my least misuse?
seed 43: T4 · seed 44: T5 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Hadt pleas'd Heauen, To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head: Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes, Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmoſt hopes, I ſhould haue found in ſome place of my Soule A drop of patience. But alas, to make me The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne, To point his ſlow, and mouing finger at. Yet could I beare that too, well, very well: But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart, Where either I muſt liue, or beare no life, The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes, Or elſe dries vp: to be diſcarded thence, Or keepe it as a Ceſterne, for foule Toades To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there: Patience, thou young and Roſe-lip'd Cherubin, I heere looke grim as hell. I hope my Noble Lord eſteemes me honeſt. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles, That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed: Who art ſo louely faire, and ſmell'ſt ſo ſweete, That the Senſe akes at thee, Would thou had'ſt neuer bin borne. Alas, what ignorant ſin haue I committed? Was this faire Paper? This moſt goodly Booke Made to write Whore vpon? What commited, Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner, I ſhould make very Forges of my cheekes, That would to Cynders burne vp Modeſtie, Did I but ſpeake thy deedes. What commited? Heauen ſtoppes the Noſe at it, and the Moone winks: The baudy winde that kiſſes all it meetes, Is huſh'd within the hollow Myne of Earth And will not hear't. What commited? By Heauen you do me wrong. Are not you a Strumpet? No, as I am a Chriſtian. If to preſerue this veſſell for my Lord, From any other foule vnlawfull touch Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none. What, not a Whore? No, as I ſhall be ſau'd. Is't poſſible? Oh Heauen forgiue vs. I cry you mercy then. I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with Othello. You Miſtris, That haue the office oppoſite to Saint Peter, And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you. We haue done our courſe: there's money for your paines: I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counſaile. Alas, what do' this Gentleman conceiue? How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady? Faith, halfe a ſleepe. Good Madam, What's the matter with my Lord? With who? Why, with my Lord, Madam? Who is thy Lord? He that is yours, ſweet Lady. I haue none: do not talke to me, Aemilia, I cannot weepe: nor anſweres haue I none, But what ſhould go by water. Prythee to night, Lay on my bed my wedding ſheetes, remember, And call thy husband hither. Heere's a change indeed. 'Tis meete I ſhould be vs'd ſo: very meete. How haue I bin behau'd, that he might ſticke The ſmall'ſt opinion on my leaſt miſvſe?