Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 504 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
Why, I must dye: And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No Servant of thy Masters. Against Selfe-slaughter, There is a prohibition so Divine, That cravens my weak hand: Come, here's my heart: Something's afoot: Soft, soft, we'll no defence, Obedient as the Scabbard. What is here, The Scriptures of the Loyal Leonatus, All turned to Heresy? Away, away Corrupters of my Faith, you shall no more Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may poor Fools Believe false Teachers: Though those that are betrayed Do feel the Treason sharply, yet the Traitor S in worse case of woe. And thou Posthumus, That didd'st set up my disobedience 'gainst the King My Father, and makes me put into contempt the suits Of Princely Fellows, shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage, but A strain of Rareness: and I grieve myself, To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her, That now thou tyreft on, how thy memory Will then be panged by me. Prithee dispatch, The Lamb entreats the Butcher. where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy Master's bidding When I desire it too. Oh gracious Lady: Since I received command to do this business, I have not slept one wink. Do't, and to bed then. I'll wake mine eyeballs first. Wherefore then Didd'st undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many Miles, with a pretence? This place? Mine Action? and thine own? Our Horse's labour? The Time inviting thee? The perturbed Court For my being absent? whereunto I never Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far To be un-bent? when thou hast 'tane thy stand, Th' elected Deer before thee? But to win time To lose so bad employment, in the which I have considered of a course: good Lady Hear me with patience. Talk thy tongue weary, speak: I have heard I am a Strumpet, and mine ear Therein false strooke, can take no greater wound, Nor tent, to bottom that. But speak. Then Madam, I thought you would not back again. Most like, Bringing me here to kill me. Not so neither: But if I were as wise, as honest, than My purpose would prove well: it cannot be, But that my Master is abused. Some Villain, I, and singular in his Art, hath done you both This cursed injury. Some Roman Courtesan? No, on my life: I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody sign of it. For 'tis commanded I should do so: you shall be missed at Court, And that will well confirm it. Why good Fellow, What shall I do the while? Where bide? How live? Or in my life, what comfort, when I am Dead to my Husband? If you'll backe to ' th' Court. No Court, no Father, nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing: That Clotten, whose Love-suite hath been to me As fearful as a Siege. If not at Court, Than not in Britain must you bide.
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)
Why, I muſt dye: And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No Seruant of thy Maſters. Againſt Selfe-ſlaughter, There is a prohibition ſo Diuine, That crauens my weake hand: Come, heere's my heart: Something's a-foot: Soft, ſoft, wee'l no defence, Obedient as the Scabbard. What is heere, The Scriptures of the Loyall Leonatus, All turn'd to Hereſie? Away, away Corrupters of my Faith, you ſhall no more Be Stomachers to my heart: thus may poore Fooles Beleeue falſe Teachers: Though thoſe that are betraid Do feele the Treaſon ſharpely, yet the Traitor S in worſe caſe of woe. And thou Poſthumus, That didd'ſt ſet vp my diſobedience 'gainſt the King My Father, and makes me put into contempt the ſuites Of Princely Fellowes, ſhalt heereafter finde It is no acte of common paſſage, but A ſtraine of Rareneſſe: and I greeue my ſelfe, To thinke, when thou ſhalt be diſedg'd by her, That now thou tyreft on, how thy memory Will then be pang'd by me. Prythee diſpatch, The Lambe entreats the Butcher. Wher's thy knife? Thou art too ſlow to do thy Maſters bidding When I deſire it too. Oh gracious Lady: Since I receiu'd command to do this buſineſſe, I haue not ſlept one winke. Doo't, and to bed then. Ile wake mine eye-balles firſt. Wherefore then Didd'ſt vndertake it? Why haſt thou abus'd So many Miles, with a pretence? This place? Mine Action? and thine owne? Our Horſes labour? The Time inuiting thee? The perturb'd Court For my being abſent? whereunto I neuer Purpoſe returne. Why haſt thou gone ſo farre To be vn-bent? when thou haſt 'tae thy ſtand, Th' elected Deere before thee? But to win time To looſe ſo bad employment, in the which I haue conſider'd of a courſe: good Ladie Heare me with patience. Talke thy tongue weary, ſpeake: I haue heard I am a Strumpet, and mine eare Therein falſe ſtrooke, can take no greater wound, Nor tent, to bottome that. But ſpeake. Then Madam, I thought you would not backe againe. Moſt like, Bringing me heere to kill me. Not ſo neither: But if I were as wiſe, as honeſt, then My purpoſe would proue well: it cannot be, But that my Maſter is abus'd. Some Villaine, I, and ſingular in his Art, hath done you both This curſed iniurie. Some Roman Curtezan? No, on my life: Ile giue but notice you are dead, and ſend him Some bloody ſigne of it. For 'tis commanded I ſhould do ſo: you ſhall be miſt at Court, And that will well confirme it. Why good Fellow, What ſhall I do the while? Where bide? How liue? Or in my life, what comfort, when I am Dead to my Husband? If you'l backe to' th' Court. No Court, no Father, nor no more adoe With that harſh, noble, ſimple nothing: That Clotten, whoſe Loue-ſuite hath bene to me As fearefull as a Siege. If not at Court, Then not in Britaine muſt you bide.