Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T44 Drinking: wine, ale and taverns · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T44: drink, wine, numps, ale, butler, pot, sing, moy, drunk, win.
A most ridiculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard. I prithee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; show thee a jays nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'll bring thee to clustering Philbirts, and sometimes I'll get thee young Scamels from the Rock: Wilt thou go with me? I prithee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here: Here; bear my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by again. Farewell Master; farewell, farewell. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster. No more dams I'll make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban ' ban ' Cacalyban Has a new Master, get a new Man. Freedom, high-day, high-day freedom, freedom high-day, freedom. O brave Monster; lead the way. There be some Sports are painful; & their labour Delight in them set off: Some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergon; and most poor matters Point to rich ends: this my mean Task Would be as heavy to me, as odious, but The Mistress which I serve, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, than her Father's crabbed; And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction; my sweet Mistress Weeps when she sees me work, & says, such baseness Had never like Executor: I forget: But these sweet thoughts, do even refresh my labours, Most busy jest, when I do it. Alas, now pray you Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those Logs that you are enjoined to pile: Pray set it down, and rest you: when this burns 'Twill weep for having wearied you: my Father Is hard at study; pray now rest yourself, he's safe for these three hours. O most dear Mistress. The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. If you'll sit down I'll bear your Logs the while: pray give me that, I'll carry it to the pile. No precious Creature, I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Then you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. It would become me As well as it does you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. Poor worm thou art infected, This visitation shows it. You look wearily. No, noble Mistress, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? Miranda, O my Father, I have broke your hest to say so.
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)
A moſt rediculous Monſter, to make a wonder of a poore drunkard. I' prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; ſhow thee a Iayes neſt, and inſtruct thee how to ſnare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to cluſtring Philbirts, and ſometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me? I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company elſe being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by againe. Farewell Maſter; farewell, farewell. A howling Monſter: a drunken Monſter. No more dams I'le make for fiſh, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor ſcrape trenchering, nor waſh diſh, Ban' ban' Cacalyban Has a new Maſter, get a new Man. Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome high-day, freedome. O braue Monſter; lead the way. There be ſome Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them ſet off: Some kindes of baſeneſſe Are nobly vndergon; and moſt poore matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but The Miſtris which I ſerue, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleaſures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harſhneſſe. I muſt remoue Some thouſands of theſe Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a ſore iniunction; my ſweet Miſtris Weepes when ſhe ſees me worke, & ſaies, ſuch baſenes Had neuer like Executor: I forget: But theſe ſweet thoughts, doe euen refreſh my labours, Moſt buſie leſt, when I doe it. Alas, now pray you Worke not ſo hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp thoſe Logs that you are enioynd to pile: Pray ſet it downe, and reſt you: when this burnes 'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at ſtudy; pray now reſt your ſelfe, Hee's ſafe for theſe three houres. O moſt deere Miſtris. The Sun will ſet before I ſhall diſcharge What I muſt ſtriue to do. If you'l ſit downe Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the pile. No precious Creature, I had rather cracke my ſinewes, breake my backe, Then you ſhould ſuch diſhonor vndergoe, While I ſit lazy by. It would become me As well as it do's you; and I ſhould do it With much more eaſe: for my good will is to it, And yours it is againſt. Poore worme thou art infected, This viſitation ſhewes it. You looke wearily. No, noble Miſtris, 'tis freſh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beſeech you Cheefely, that I might ſet it in my prayers, What is your name? Miranda, O my Father, I haue broke your heſt to ſay ſo.