Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1591 [1590-1591] (Annals) history · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.76 · 464 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
You hold too heinous a respect of grief. He talks to me, that never had a son. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. Grief fills the room up of my absent child: Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? Fareyouwell: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head, When there is such disorder in my wit: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son, My life, my joy, my food, my all the world: My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. There's nothing in this world can make me joy, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet words taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest: Evils that take leave. On their departure, most of all show evil: What have you lost by losing of this day? All days of glory, joy and happiness. If you had won it, certainly you had. No, no: when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye: 'Tis strange to think how much King Iohn hath lost In this which he accounts so clearly won: Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner? As hearty as he is glad he hath him. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit: For even the breath of what I mean to speak, Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's Throne. And therefore mark: Iohn hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplaced- Iohn should entertain an hour, One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest. A Sceptre snatched with an unruly hand, Must be as boisterously maintained as gained. And he that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vild hold to stay him up: That Iohn may stand, than Arthur needs must fall; So be it, for it cannot be but so. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
nodes 1423–1477 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 23 of 41 in this edition
Length
464 words · 587 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.761 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T10 · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
You hold too heynous a reſpect of greefe. He talkes to me, that neuer had a ſonne. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe. Greefe fils the roome vp of my abſent childe: Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me, Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his words, Remembets me of all his gracious parts, Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme; Then, haue I reaſon to be fond of griefe? Fareyouwell: had you ſuch a loſſe as I, I could giue better comfort then you doe. I will not keepe this forme vpon my head, When there is ſuch diſorder in my witte: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire ſonne, My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world: My widow-comfort, and my ſorrowes cure. I feare ſome out-rage, and Ile follow her. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull eare of a drowſie man; And bitter ſhame hath ſpoyl'd the ſweet words taſte, That it yeelds nought but ſhame and bitterneſſe. Before the curing of a ſtrong diſeaſe, Euen in the inſtant of repaire and health, The fit is ſtrongeſt: Euils that take leaue. On their departure, moſt of all ſhew euill▪ What haue you loſt by loſing of this day? All daies of glory, ioy and happineſſe. If you had won it, certainely you had. No, no: when Fortune meanes to men moſt good, Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye: 'Tis ſtrange to thinke how much King Iohn hath loſt In this which he accounts ſo clearely wonne: Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his priſoner? As heartily as he is glad he hath him. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood. Now heare me ſpeake with a propheticke ſpirit: For euen the breath of what I meane to ſpeake, Shall blow each duſt, each ſtraw, each little rub Out of the path which ſhall directly lead Thy foote to Englands Throne. And therefore marke: Iohn hath ſeiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines, The miſ-plac'd-Iohn ſhould entertaine an houre, One minute, nay one quiet breath of reſt. A Scepter ſnatch'd with an vnruly hand, Muſt be as boyſterouſly maintain'd as gain'd. And he that ſtands vpon a ſlipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vilde hold to ſtay him vp: That Iohn may ſtand, then Arthur needs muſt fall; So be it, for it cannot be but ſo. But what ſhall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall? You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claime that Arthur did. And looſe it, life and all, as Arthur did.