Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1609 [c.1608-1611] (Annals) romance · King's Men T1 Death, grief and revenge typicality 0.72 · 496 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
New matter still. It poisoned me. Oh Gods! I left out one thing which the Queen confessed, Which must approve thee honest. If Pasanio Have (said she) given his Mistress that Confection Which I gave him for Cordial, she is served, As I would serve a Rat. What's this, Cornelius? The Queen (Sir) very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing Creatures vild, as Cats and Dogs Of no esteem. I dreading, that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which being ta'en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time, All Offices of Nature, should again Do their due Functions. Have you ta'en of it? Most like I did, for I was dead. My Boys, there was our error. This is sure Fidele. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro you? Think that you are upon a Rock, and now Throw me again. Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the Tree dye. How now, my Flesh? my Child? What, makest thou me a dullard in this Act? Wilt thou not speak to me? Your blessing, Sir. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not, You had a motive for't. My tears that fall Prove holy-water on thee; Imogen, Thy Mother's dead. I am sorry for't, my Lord. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely: but her Son Is gone, we know not how, nor where. My Lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten Upon my Ladies missing, came to me With his Sword drawn, foamed at the mouth, and swore If I discovered not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, I had a feigned Letter of my Masters Then in my pocket, which directed him To seek her on the Mountains near to Milford, Where in a frenzy, in my Master's Garments (Which he enforced from me) away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My Lady's honour, what became of him, I further know not. Let me end the Story: I slew him there. Marry, the Gods forefend. I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: Prithee valiant youth Deny't again. I have spoke it, and I did it. He was a Prince. A most incivill one. The wrongs he did me Were nothing Princelike; for he did provoke me With Language that would make me spurn the Sea, If it could so roar to me. I cut off's head, And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. I am sorrow for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemned, and must Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead. That headless man I thought had been my Lord Bind the Offender, And take him from our presence.
nodes 3076–3148 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 51 of 54 in this edition
Length
496 words · 655 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T1 — Death, grief and revengecross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.725 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
New matter ſtill. It poyſon'd me. Oh Gods! I left out one thing which the Queene confeſt, Which muſt approue thee honeſt. If Paſanio Haue (ſaid ſhe) giuen his Miſtris that Confection Which I gaue him for Cordiall, ſhe is ſeru'd, As I would ſerue a Rat. What's this, Cornelius? The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me To temper poyſons for her, ſtill pretending The ſatisfaction of her knowledge, onely In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges Of no eſteeme. I dreading, that her purpoſe Was of more danger, did compound for her A certaine ſtuffe, which being tane, would ceaſe The preſent powre of life, but in ſhort time, All Offices of Nature, ſhould againe Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it? Moſt like I did, for I was dead. My Boyes, there was our error. This is ſure Fidele. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro you? Thinke that you are vpon a Rocke, and now Throw me againe. Hang there like fruite, my ſoule, Till the Tree dye. How now, my Fleſh? my Childe? What, mak'ſt thou me a dullard in this Act? Wilt thou not ſpeake to me? Your bleſſing, Sir. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not, You had a motiue for't. My teares that fall Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen, Thy Mothers dead. I am ſorry for't, my Lord. Oh, ſhe was naught; and long of her it was That we meet heere ſo ſtrangely: but her Sonne Is gone, we know not how, nor where. My Lord, Now feare is from me, Ile ſpeake troth. Lord Cloten Vpon my Ladies miſſing, came to me With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and ſwore If I diſcouer'd not which way ſhe was gone, It was my inſtant death. By accident, I had a feigned Letter of my Maſters Then in my pocket, which directed him To ſeeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford, Where in a frenzie, in my Maſters Garments (Which he inforc'd from me) away he poſtes With vnchaſte purpoſe, and with oath to violate My Ladies honor, what became of him, I further know not. Let me end the Story: I ſlew him there. Marry, the Gods forefend. I would not thy good deeds, ſhould from my lips Plucke a hard ſentence: Prythee valiant youth Deny't againe. I haue ſpoke it, and I did it. He was a Prince. A moſt inciuill one. The wrongs he did mee Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me With Language that would make me ſpurne the Sea, If it could ſo roare to me. I cut off's head, And am right glad he is not ſtanding heere To tell this tale of mine. I am ſorrow for thee: By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and muſt Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead. That headleſſe man I thought had bin my Lord Binde the Offender, And take him from our preſence.