Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1610 [c.1610-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy typicality 0.80 · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
To bide upon't: thou art not honest: or If thou inclinest that way, thou art a Coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From Course required: or else thou must be counted A Servant, grafted in my serious Trust, And therein negligent: or else a Fool, That seest a Game played home, the rich Stake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest. My gracious Lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful, In every one of these, no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the World, Sometime puts forth in your affairs (my Lord.) If ever I were wilfull-negligent, It was my folly: if industriously I played the Fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord) Are such allowed Infirmities, that honesty Is never free of. But beseech your Grace Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespass By its own visage; if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine. Ha' not you seen Camillo? (But that's past doubt: you have, or your eye-glasse Is thicker than a Cuckold's Horn) or heard? (For to a Vision so apparent, Rumour Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation Resides not in that man, that does not think) My Wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, Or else be impudently negative, To have nor Eyes, nor Ears, nor Thought, then say My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserves a Name As rank as any Flax-Wench, that puts to Before her trothplight: say't, and iustifyed. I would not be a stander-by, to hear My Sovereign Mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken:' shrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you less Than this; which to reiterate, were sin As deep as that, though true. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning Cheek to Cheek? is meating Noses? Kissing with inside Lip? stopping the Career Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible Of breaking Honesty) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift? Hours, Minutes? Noon, Midnight? and all Eyes Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? Is this nothing? Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing, The covering Sky is nothing, Bohemia nothing, My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing have these Nothings, If this be nothing. Good my Lord, be cured Of this diseased Opinion, and betimes, For 'tis most dangerous. Say it be, 'tis true. No, no, my Lord. It is: you lie, you lie: I say thou liest Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a gross Lout, a mindless Slave, Or else a hover Temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both: were my Wife's Liver Infected (as her life) she would not live The running of one Glass.
nodes 293–363 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 6 of 50 in this edition
Length
504 words · 736 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T23 — Husbands, wives and jealousycross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.804 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T26 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
To bide vpon't: thou art not honeſt: or If thou inclin'ſt that way, thou art a Coward, Which hoxes honeſtie behind, reſtrayning From Courſe requir'd: or elſe thou muſt be counted A Seruant, grafted in my ſerious Truſt, And therein negligent: or elſe a Foole, That ſeeſt a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne, And tak'ſt it all for ieaſt. My gracious Lord, I may be negligent, fooliſh, and fearefull, In euery one of theſe, no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, feare, Among the infinite doings of the World, Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.) If euer I were wilfull-negligent, It was my folly: if induſtriouſly I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull To doe a thing, where I the iſſue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Againſt the non-performance, 'twas a feare Which oft infects the wiſeſt: theſe (my Lord) Are ſuch allow'd Infirmities, that honeſtie Is neuer free of. But beſeech your Grace Be plainer with me, let me know my Treſpas By it's owne viſage; if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine. Ha' not you ſeene Camillo? (But that's paſt doubt: you haue, or your eye-glaſſe Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard? (For to a Viſion ſo apparant, Rumor Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation Reſides not in that man, that do's not thinke) My Wife is ſlipperie? If thou wilt confeſſe, Or elſe be impudently negatiue, To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then ſay My Wife's a Holy-Horſe, deſerues a Name As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to Before her troth-plight: ſay't, and iuſtify't. I would not be a ſtander-by, to heare My Soueraigne Miſtreſſe clouded ſo, without My preſent vengeance taken: 'ſhrew my heart, You neuer ſpoke what did become you leſſe Then this; which to reiterate, were ſin As deepe as that, though true. Is whiſpering nothing? Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noſes? Kiſſing with in-ſide Lip? ſtopping the Caiere Of Laughter, with a ſigh? (a Note infallible Of breaking Honeſtie) horſing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wiſhing Clocks more ſwift? Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely, That would vnſeene be wicked? Is this nothing? Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing, The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing, My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue theſe Nothings, If this be nothing. Good my Lord, be cur'd Of this diſeas'd Opinion, and betimes, For 'tis moſt dangerous. Say it be, 'tis true. No, no, my Lord. It is: you lye, you lye: I ſay thou lyeſt Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a groſſe Lowt, a mindleſſe Slaue, Or elſe a houering Temporizer, that Canſt with thine eyes at once ſee good and euill, Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer Infected (as her life) ſhe would not liue The running of one Glaſſe.