Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men unassigned nearest T23 Husbands, wives and jealousy · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T23: wife, husband, cuckold, jealousy, woman, jealous, mistress, love, house, honest.
Please you read, And you shall find me (wretched man) a thing The most disdained of Fortune. THy Mistress (Pisanio) hath played the Strumpet in my Bed: the Testimonies whereof, lies bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak Surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my Revenge. That part, thou (Pisanio) must act for me, if thy Faith be not tainted with the breach of hers; let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford Haven. She hath my Letter for the purpose; where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the Pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. What shall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper Hath cut her throat already? No, 'tis Slander, Whose edge is sharper than the Sword, whose tongue Out-venomes all the Worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the World. Kings, Queens, and States, Maids, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Grave This viperous slander enters. What cheer, Madam? False to his Bed? What is it to be false? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? If sleep charge Nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake? That's false to's bed? Is it? Alas good Lady. I false? Thy Conscience witness: Iachimo, Thou didd'st accuse him of Incontinency, Thou then look'dst like a Villain: now, me thinks Thy favours good enough. Some jay of Italy (Whose mother was her painting) hath betrayed him: Poor I am stolen, a Garment out of fashion, And for I am richer than to hang by th' walls, I must be ripped: To pieces with me: Oh! men's Vows are women's Traitors. All good seeming By thy revolt (of Husband) shall be thought Put on for Villainy; not borne where't grows, But worn a Bait for Ladies. Good Madam, hear me. True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false: and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear: took pity From most true wretchedness. So thou, Posthumus Wilt lay the Leaven on all proper men; Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjured From thy great fail: Come Fellow, be thou honest, Do thou thy Master's bidding. When thou seest him, A little witness my obedience. Look I draw the Sword myself, take it, and hit The innocent Mansion of my Love (my Heart:) Fear not, 'tis empty of all things, but Grief: Thy Master is not there, who was indeed The riches of it. Do his bidding, strike, Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; But now thou seem'st a Coward. Hence vile Instrument, Thou shalt not damn my hand.
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)
Pleaſe you reade, And you ſhall finde me (wretched man) a thing The moſt diſdain'd of Fortune. THy Miſtris (Piſanio) hath plaide the Strumpet in my Bed: the Teſtimonies whereof, lyes bleeding in me. I ſpeak not out of weake Surmiſes, but from proofe as ſtrong as my greefe, and as certaine as I expect my Reuenge. Th , thou (Piſanio) muſt acte for me, if thy Faith be not tainted with the breach of hers; let thine owne hands take away her life: I ſhall giue thee opportunity at Milford Hauen. She hath my Letter for the purpoſe; where, if thou feare to ſtrike, and to make mee certaine it is done, thou art the Pander to her diſhonour, and equally to me diſloyall. What ſhall I need to draw my Sword, the Paper Hath cut her throat alreadie? No, 'tis Slander, Whoſe edge is ſharper then the Sword, whoſe tongue Out-venomes all the Wormes of Nyle, whoſe breath Rides on the poſting windes, and doth belye All corners of the World. Kings, Queenes, and States, Maides, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Graue This viperous ſlander enters. What cheere, Madam? Falſe to his Bed? What is it to be falſe? To lye in watch there, and to thinke on him? To weepe 'twixt clock and clock? If ſleep charge Nature, To breake it with a fearfull dreame of him, And cry my ſelfe awake? That's falſe to's bed? Is it? Alas good Lady. I falſe? Thy Conſcience witneſſe: Iachimo, Thou didd'ſt accuſe him of Incontinencie, Thou then look'dſt like a Villaine: now, me thinkes Thy fauours good enough. Some Iay of Italy (Whoſe mother was her painting) hath betraid him: Poore I am ſtale, a Garment out of faſhion, And for I am richer then to hang by th' walles, I muſt be ript: To peeces with me: Oh! Mens Vowes are womens Traitors. All good ſeeming By thy reuolt (o Husband) ſhall be thought Put on for Villainy; not borne where't growes, But worne a Baite for Ladies. Good Madam, heare me. True honeſt men being heard, like falſe Aeneas, Were in his time thought falſe: and Synons weeping Did ſcandall many a holy teare: tooke pitty From moſt true wretchedneſſe. So thou, Poſthumus Wilt lay the Leauen on all proper men; Goodly, and gallant, ſhall be falſe and periur'd From thy great faile: Come Fellow, be thou honeſt, Do thou thy Maſters bidding. When thou ſeeſt him, A little witneſſe my obedience. Looke I draw the Sword my ſelfe, take it, and hit The innocent Manſion of my Loue (my Heart:) Feare not, 'tis empty of all things, but Greefe: Thy Maſter is not there, who was indeede The riches of it. Do his bidding, ſtrike, Thou mayſt be valiant in a better cauſe; But now thou ſeem'ſt a Coward. Hence vile Inſtrument, Thou ſhalt not damne my hand.