Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 502 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Past the mid season. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by us both be spent most preciously. Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet performed me. How now? moody? What is't thou canst demand? My Liberty. Before the time be out? no more: I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service, Told thee no lies, made thee no mistake, served Without or grudge, or grumble; thou did promise To bate me a full year. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? No. Thou dost: & thinkest it much to tread the Ooze Of the salt deep; To run upon the sharp wind of the North, To do me business in the veins o' th' earth When it is baked with frost. I do not Sir. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowl Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Envy Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? No Sir. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me: Sir, in Argier. Oh, was she so: I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forgettest. This damned Witch Sycorax For mischiefs manifold, and forceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier Thou knowst was banished: for one thing she did They would not take her life: Is not this true? I, Sir. This blue eyed hag, was hither brought with child, And here was left by th' Sailors; thou my slave, As thou reportest thyself, was then her servant, And for thou wast a Spirit too-delicate To act her earthy, and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand hefts, she did confine thee By help of her more potent Ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven Pine, within which rift Imprisoned, thou didst painfully remain A dozen years: within which space she died, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Save for the Son, that he did litter here, A frekelld whelp, hag-borne) not honoured with A humane shape. Yes: Caliban her son. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service, thou best knowst What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry Bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Can not again undo: it was mine Art, When I arrived, and heard thee, that made gape The Pine, and let thee out. I thank thee Master. If thou more murmurest, I will rend an Oak And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howled away twelve winters. Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And do my spryting, gently. Do so: and after two days I will discharge thee. That's my noble Master: What shall I do? say what? what shall I do?
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)
Paſt the mid ſeaſon. At leaſt two Glaſſes: the time 'twixt ſix & now Muſt by vs both be ſpent moſt preciouſly. Is there more toyle? Since yu doſt giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou haſt promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me. How now? moodie? What is't thou canſt demand? My Libertie. Before the time be out? no more: I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy ſeruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no miſtakings, ſerv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promiſe To bate me a full yeere. Do'ſt thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? No. Thou do'ſt: & thinkſt it much to tread ye Ooze Of the ſalt deepe; To run vpon the ſharpe winde of the North, To doe me buſineſſe in the veines o' th' earth When it is bak'd with froſt. I doe not Sir. Thou lieſt, malignant Thing: haſt thou forgot The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? haſt thou forgot her? No Sir. Thou haſt: where was ſhe born? ſpeak: tell me: Sir, in Argier. Oh, was ſhe ſo: I muſt Once in a moneth recount what thou haſt bin, Which thou forgetſt. This damn'd Witch Sycorax For miſchiefes manifold, and forceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier Thou know'ſt was baniſh'd: for one thing ſhe did They wold not take her life: Is not this true? I, Sir. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child, And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my ſlaue, As thou reportſt thy ſelfe, was then her ſeruant, And for thou waſt a Spirit too-delicate To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refuſing her grand hefts, ſhe did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Miniſters, And in her moſt vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Impriſon'd, thou didſt painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which ſpace ſhe di'd, And left thee there: where thou didſt vent thy groanes As faſt as Mill-wheeles ſtrike: Then was this Iſland (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane ſhape. Yes: Caliban her ſonne. Dull thing, I ſay ſo: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in ſeruice, thou beſt know'ſt What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breaſts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out. I thanke thee Maſter. If thou more murmur'ſt, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou haſt howl'd away twelue winters. Pardon, Maſter, I will be correſpondent to command And doe my ſpryting, gently. Doe ſo: and after two daies I will diſcharge thee. That's my noble Maſter: What ſhall I doe? ſay what? what ſhall I doe?