Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T32 Rings and jewels as tokens typicality 0.81 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T32: ring, ti, gave, finger, jewel, lady, lord, love, invisible, away.
Your daughter's Chastity, (there it begins) He spoke of her, as Diana had hot dreams, And she alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch Made scruple of his praise, and wagered with him Pieces of Gold, 'gainst this, which then he wore Upon his honoured finger) to attain In suit the place of's bed, and win this Ring By hers, and mine Adultery: he (true Knight) No lesser of her Honour confident Then I did truly find her, stakes this Ring, And would so, had it been a Carbuncle Of Phoebus' Wheel; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of's Car. Away to Britain Post I in this design: Well may you (Sir) Remember me at Court, where I was taught Of your chaste Daughter, the wide difference 'Twixt Amorous, and Villainous. Being thus quenched Of hope, not longing; mine Italian brain, 'Gan in your duller Britain operare Most vildly: for my vantage excellent. And to be brief, my practice so prevailed That I returned with simular proof enough, To make the Noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her Renown, With Tokens thus, and thus: averring notes Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet (Oh cunning how I got) nay some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of Chastity quite cracked, I having ' ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon, methinks I see him now. I so thou dost, Italian Fiend. Ay me, most credulous Fool, Egregious murderer, Thief, any thing That's due to all the Villains past, in being To come. Oh give me Cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer. Thou King, send out For Torturors ingenious: it is I That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That killed thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lie, That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious Thief to do't. The Temple Of Virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' th' street to bay me: every villain Be called Posthumus Leonatus, and Be villainy less then 'twas. Oh Imogen! My Queen, my life, my wife: oh Imogen, Imogen, Imogen. Peace my Lord, hear, hear. Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful Page, there lie thy part. Oh Gentlemen, help, Mine ' and your Mistress: Oh my Lord Posthumus, You ne'er killed Imogen till now: help, help, Mine honoured Lady. Does the world go round? How comes these staggers on me? Wake my Mistress. If this be so, the Gods do mean to strike me To death, with mortal joy. How fares my Mistress? Oh get thee from my sight, Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous Fellow hence, Breath not where Princes are. The tune of Imogen. Lady, the Gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you, was not thought by me A precious thing, I had it from the Queen.
nodes 3006–3075 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 50 of 54 in this edition
Length
495 words · 715 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T32 — Rings and jewels as tokenscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.811 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T33 · seed 44: T32 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Your daughters Chaſtity, (there it beginnes) He ſpake of her, as Dian had hot dreames, And ſhe alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch Made ſcruple of his praiſe, and wager'd with him Peeces of Gold, 'gainſt this, which then he wore Vpon his honour'd finger) to attaine In ſuite the place of's bed, and winne this Ring By hers, and mine Adultery: he (true Knight) No leſſer of her Honour confident Then I did truly finde her, ſtakes this Ring, And would ſo, had it beene a Carbuncle Of Phoebus Wheele; and might ſo ſafely, had it Bin all the worth of's Carre. Away to Britaine Poſte I in this deſigne: Well may you (Sir) Remember me at Court, where I was taught Of your chaſte Daughter, the wide difference 'Twixt Amorous, and Villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing; mine Italian braine, Gan in your duller Britaine operare Moſt vildely: for my vantage excellent. And to be breefe, my practiſe ſo preuayl'd That I return'd with ſimular proofe enough, To make the Noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his beleefe in her Renowne, With Tokens thus, and thus: auerring notes Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet (Oh cunning how I got) nay ſome markes Of ſecret on her perſon, that he could not But thinke her bond of Chaſtity quite crack'd, I hauing 'tane the forfeyt. Whereupon, Me thinkes I ſee him now. I ſo thou do'ſt, Italian Fiend. Aye me, moſt credulous Foole, Egregious murtherer, Theefe, any thing That's due to all the Villaines paſt, in being To come. Oh giue me Cord, or knife, or poyſon, Some vpright Iuſticer. Thou King, ſend out For Torturors ingenious: it is I That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend By being worſe then they. I am Poſthumus, That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lye, That caus'd a leſſer villaine then my ſelfe, A ſacrilegious Theefe to doo't. The Temple Of Vertue was ſhe; yea, and ſhe her ſelfe. Spit, and throw ſtones, caſt myre vpon me, ſet The dogges o' th' ſtreet to bay me: euery villaine Be call'd Poſthumus Leonatus, and Be villany leſſe then 'twas. Oh Imogen! My Queene, my life, my wife: oh Imogen, Imogen, Imogen. Peace my Lord, heare, heare. Shall's haue a play of this? Thou ſcornfull Page, there lye thy part. Oh Gentlemen, helpe, Mine' and your Miſtris: Oh my Lord Poſthumus, You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe, Mine honour'd Lady. Does the world go round? How comes theſe ſtaggers on mee? Wake my Miſtris. If this be ſo, the Gods do meane to ſtrike me To death, with mortall ioy. How fares my Miſtris? Oh get thee from my ſight, Thou gau'ſt me poyſon: dangerous Fellow hence, Breath not where Princes are. The tune of Imogen. Lady, the Gods throw ſtones of ſulpher on me, if That box I gaue you, was not thought by mee A precious thing, I had it from the Queene.