Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1611 (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 482 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Thou liest, thou canst not. What a pied Ninnie's this? Thou scurvy patch: I do beseech thy Greatness give him blows, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He shall drink nought but brine, for I'll not show him Where the quick Freshes are. Trinculo, run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors, and make a Stockfish of thee. Why, what did I? I did nothing: I'll go farther off, Didst thou not say he lied? Thou liest. Do I so? Take thou that, As you like this, give me the lie another time. I did not give the lie: Out o' your wits, and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle, this can Sack and drinking do: A murrain on your Monster, and the devil take your fingers. Ha', ha', ha'. Now forward with your Tale: prithee stand further off. Beat him enough: after a little time I'll beat him too. Stand farther: Come proceed. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him, Having first seized his books: Or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his weazand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his Books; for without them he's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his Books, He has brave Utensils (for so he calls them) Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider, is The beauty of his daughter: he himself Calls her a non-pareill: I never saw a woman But only Sycorax my Dam, and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax, As great'st does least. Is it so brave a Lass? I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth brave brood. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King and Queen, save our Graces: and Trinculo, and thyself shall be Viceroys: Dost thou like the plot Trinculo? Excellent. Give me thy hand, I am sorry I beat thee: But while thou liv'st keep a good tongue in thy head Within this half hour will he be asleep, Wilt thou destroy him then? I on mine honour. This will I tell my Master. Thou makest me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let us be jocund. Will you troll the Catch You taught me but whileare? At thy request Monster, I will do reason, Any reason: Come on Trinculo, let us sing. Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free. That's not the tune. What is this same? This is the tune of our Catch, played by the picture of Nobody.
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)
Thou lieſt, thou canſt not. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou ſcuruy patch: I do beſeech thy Greatneſſe giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He ſhall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not ſhew him Where the quicke Freſhes are. Trinculo, run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monſter one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a Stockfiſh of thee. Why, what did I? I did nothing: Ile go farther off, Didſt thou not ſay he lyed? Thou lieſt. Do I ſo? Take thou that, As you like this, giue me the lye another time. I did not giue the lie: Out o' your wittes, and hearing too? A pox o' your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your Monſter, and the diuell take your fingers. Ha, ha, ha. Now forward with your Tale: prethee ſtand further off. Beate him enough: after a little time Ile beate him too. Stand farther: Come proceede. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a cuſtome with him I' th afternoone to ſleepe: there thou maiſt braine him, Hauing firſt ſeiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a ſtake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember Firſt to poſſeſſe his Bookes; for without them Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes, He ha's braue Vtenſils (for ſo he calles them) Which when he ha's a houſe, hee'l decke withall. And that moſt deeply to conſider, is The beautie of his daughter: he himſelfe Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer ſaw a woman But onely Sycorax my Dam, and ſhe; But ſhe as farre ſurpaſſeth Sycorax, As great'ſt do's leaſt. Is it ſo braue a Laſſe? I Lord, ſhe will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth braue brood. Monſter, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King and Queene, ſaue our Graces: and Trinculo, and thy ſelfe ſhall be Vice-royes: Doſt thou like the plot Trinculo? Excellent. Giue me thy hand, I am ſorry I beate thee: But while thou liu'ſt keepe a good tongue in thy hea Within this halfe houre will he be aſleepe, Wilt thou deſtroy him then? I on mine honour. This will I tell my Maſter. Thou mak'ſt me merry: I am full of pleaſure, Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whileare? At thy requeſt Monſter, I will do reaſon, Any reaſon: Come on Trinculo, let vs ſing. Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free. That's not the tune. What is this ſame? This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture of No-body.