Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T22 Shepherds, flocks and Pan typicality 0.75 · 469 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T22: shepherd, pan, shepherds, love, sheep, flocks, fair, shepherdess, swain, away.
Was, is not is: besides, the oath of Lover is no stronger than the word of a Tapster, they are both the confirmer of false reckonings, he attends here in the forest on the Duke your father. I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, so he laughed and let me go. But what talk we of Fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? O that's a brave man, he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite travers athwart the heart of his lover, as a puisny Tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose; but all's brave that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes here? Mistress and Master, you have oft enquired After the Shepherd that complained of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the Turph, Praising the proud disdainful Shepherdess That was his Mistress. Well: and what of him? If you will see a pageant truly played Between the pale complexion of true Love, And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you If you will mark it. O come, let us remove, The sight of Lovers feedeth those in love: Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I'll prove a busy actor in their play. Sweet Phebe do not scorn me, do not Phebe Say that you love me not, but say not so In bitterness; the common executioner Whose heart th' accustomed sight of death makes hard Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, But first begs pardon: will you sterner be Then he that dies and lives by bloody drops? I would not be thy executioner, I fly thee, for I would not injure thee: Thou tellest me there is murder in mine eye, 'Tis pretty sure, and very probable, That eyes that are the frailst, and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomyes, Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers. Now I do frown on thee with all my heart, And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now counterfeit to swoon, why now fall down, Or if thou canst not, oh for shame, for shame, Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers: Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee, Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it: Lean upon a rush The Cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor I am sure there is no force in eyes That can do hurt.
nodes 1120–1164 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 28 of 44 in this edition
Length
469 words · 595 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T22 — Shepherds, flocks and Pancross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.748 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T24 · seed 44: T25 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Was, is not is: beſides, the oath of Louer is no ſtronger then the word of a Tapſter, they are both the confirmer of falſe reckonings, he attends here in the forreſt on the Duke your father. I met the Duke yeſterday, and had much queſtion with him: he askt me of what parentage I was; I told him of as good as he, ſo he laugh'd and let mee goe. But what talke wee of Fathers, when there is ſuch a man as Orlando? O that's a braue man, hee writes braue verſes, ſpeakes braue words, ſweares braue oathes, and breakes them brauely, quite trauers athwart the heart of his louer, as a puiſny Tilter, yt ſpurs his horſe but on one ſide, breakes his ſtaffe like a noble gooſe; but all's braue that youth mounts, and folly guides: who comes heere? Miſtreſſe and Maſter, you haue oft enquired After the Shepheard that complain'd of loue, Who you ſaw ſitting by me on the Turph, Praiſing the proud diſdainfull Shepherdeſſe That was his Miſtreſſe. Well: and what of him? If you will ſee a pageant truely plaid Betweene the pale complexion of true Loue, And the red glowe of ſcorne and prowd diſdaine, Goe hence a little, and I ſhall conduct you If you will marke it. O come, let vs remoue, The ſight of Louers feedeth thoſe in loue: Bring vs to this ſight, and you ſhall ſay Ile proue a buſie actor in their play. Sweet Phebe doe not ſcorne me, do not Phebe Say that you loue me not, but ſay not ſo In bitterneſſe; the common executioner Whoſe heart th' accuſtom'd ſight of death makes hard Falls not the axe vpon the humbled neck, But firſt begs pardon: will you ſterner be Then he that dies and liues by bloody drops? I would not be thy executioner, I flye thee, for I would not iniure thee: Thou tellſt me there is murder in mine eye, 'Tis pretty ſure, and very probable, That eyes that are the frailſt, and ſofteſt things, Who ſhut their coward gates on atomyes, Should be called tyrants, butchers, murtherers. Now I doe frowne on thee with all my heart, And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now counterfeit to ſwound▪ why now fall downe, Or if thou canſt not, oh for ſhame, for ſhame, Lye not, to ſay mine eyes are murtherers: Now ſhew the wound mine eye hath made in thee, Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaines Some ſcarre of it: Leane vpon a ruſh The Cicatrice and capable impreſſure Thy palme ſome moment keepes: but now mine eyes Which I haue darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor I am ſure there is no force in eyes That can doe hurt.