Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T38 Death, parting and grief at court typicality 0.77 · 493 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T38: queen, king, death, dead, heart, life, die, lord, royal, news.
Great griefs I see medicine the less: For Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a Queen's Son, Boys, And though he came our Enemy remember He was paid for that: though mean, and mighty rotting Together have one dust, yet Reverence (That Angel of the world) doth make distinction Of place between high, and low. Our Foe was Princely, And though you took his life, as being our Foe, Yet bury him, as a Prince. Pray you fetch him hither, Thersites body is as good as Aiax, When neither are alive. If you'll go fetch him, we'll say our Song the whilst: Brother begin. Nay Cadwall, we must lay his head to ' th' East, My Father hath a reason for it. 'Tis true. Come on then, and remove him. So, begin. Fear no more the heat o' th' Sun, Nor the furious Winter's rages, Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden Lads, and Girls all must, As Chimneysweepers come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' th' Great, Thou art passed the Tyrant's stroke, Care no more to cloth and eat, To thee the Reed is as the Oak: The Sceptre, Learning, Physic must, All follow this and come to dust. Fear no more the Lightning flash. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunder-stone. Fear not Slander, Censure rash. Thou hast finished joy and moan. All Lovers young, all Lovers must, Consign to thee and come to dust. No Exorcisor harm thee, Nor no witchcraft charm thee. Ghost unlaid forbear thee. Nothing ill come near thee. Quiet consummation have, And renowned be thy grave. We have done our obsequies: Come lay him down. here's a few Flowers, but 'bout midnight more: The herbs that have on them cold dew o' th' night Are strew firest for Graves: upon their Faces. You were as Flowers, now withered: even so These Herbelets shall, which we upon you strew. Come on, away, apart upon our knees: The ground that gave them first, has them again: Their pleasures here are past, so are their pain. Yes Sir, to Milford-haven, which is the way? I thank you: by yond bush? pray how far thither? 'Ods pittikins: can it be six mile yet? I have gone all night: I'faith, I'll lie down, and sleep. But soft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddesses! These Flowers are like the pleasures of the World; This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dream: For so I thought I was a Cave-keeper, And Cook to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so: 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the Brain makes of Fumes. Our very eyes, Are sometimes like our judgements, blind. Good faith I tremble still with fear: but if there be Yet left in Heaven, as small a drop of pity As a Wrens eye; feared Gods, a part of it. The dream's here still: even when I wake it is
seed 43: T44 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Great greefes I ſee med'cine the leſſe: For Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a Queenes Sonne, Boyes, And though he came our Enemy remember He was paid for that: though meane, and mighty rotting Together haue one duſt, yet Reuerence (That Angell of the world) doth make diſtinction Of place 'tweene high, and low. Our Foe was Princely, And though you tooke his life, as being our Foe, Yet bury him, as a Prince. Pray you fetch him hither, Therſites body is as good as Aiax, When neyther are aliue. If you'l go fetch him, Wee'l ſay our Song the whil'ſt: Brother begin. Nay Cadwall, we muſt lay his head to' th' Eaſt, My Father hath a reaſon for 't. 'Tis true. Come on then, and remoue him. So, begin. Feare no more the heate o' th' Sun, Nor the furious Winters rages, Thou thy worldly task haſt don, Home art gon, and tane thy wages. Golden Lads, and Girles all muſt, As Chimney-Sweepers come to duſt. Feare no more the frowne o' th' Great, Thou art paſt the Tirants ſtroake, Care no more to cloath and eate, To thee the Reede is as the Oake: The Scepter, Learning, Phyſicke muſt, All follow this and come to duſt. Feare no more the Lightning flaſh. Nor th' all-dreaded Thunderſtone. Feare not Slander, Cenſure raſh. Thou haſt finiſh'd Ioy and mne. All Louers young, all Louers muſt, Conſigne to thee and come to duſt. No Exorciſr harme thee, Nor no witch-craft charme thee. Ghoſt vnlaid forbeare thee. Nothing ill come neere thee. Quiet conſumation haue, And renowned be thy graue. We haue done our obſequies: Come lay him downe. Heere's a few Flowres, but 'bout midnight more: The hearbes that haue on them cold dew o' th' night Are ſtrewings fir'ſt for Graues: vpon their Faces. You were as Flowres, now wither'd: euen ſo Theſe Herbelets ſhall, which we vpon you ſtrew. Come on, away, apart vpon our knees: The ground that gaue them firſt, ha's them againe: Their pleaſures here are paſt, ſo are their paine. Yes Sir, to Milford-Hauen, which is the way? I thanke you: by yond buſh? pray how farre thether? 'Ods pittikins: can it be ſixe mile yet? I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile lye downe, and ſleepe. But ſoft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddeſſes! Theſe Flowres are like the pleaſures of the World; This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame: For ſo I thought I was a Caue-keeper, And Cooke to honeſt Creatures. But 'tis not ſo: 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, ſhot at nothing, Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes, Are ſometimes like our Iudgements, blinde. Good faith I tremble ſtill with feare: but if there be Yet left in Heauen, as ſmall a drop of pittie As a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it. The Dreame's heere ſtill: euen when I wake it is