Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 497 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
The falcon fly, and yet forewarn, she row not past her reach. Thus can I weed the worm, which seeketh to devour The seeds of virtue, which might grow within thee every hour. Thus can I kill the mole, which else would overthrow The good foundation of thy fame, with every little blow. And thus can I convey, out of thy comely breast, The sluttish heaps of peevish pride, which might defile the rest. Perchance some falcons fly, which will not greatly grudge, To learn thee first to love thyself, and then to love to much, But I am none of those, I list not so to range, I have man's meat enough at home, what need I then seek change. I am no peacock I: my feathers be not gay, And though they were, I see my feet such fond affects to stay, I list not set to sale a thing so little worth, I rather could keep close my crest, than seek to set it forth. Wherefore if in this verse, which thou commandest to flow, Thou chance to fall on construing, whereby some doubts may grow, Yet grant this only boon, peruse it twice or thrice, Digest it well ere thou condemn the depth of my device. And use it like the nut, first crack the outward shell, Then try the kernel by the taste, and it may please thee well. Do not as barbers do, which wash beards curiously, Then cut them off, then cast them out, in open streets to lie. Remember therewithal, my muse is tied in chains, The goonshot of calamity hath battered all my brains. And though this verse scape out, take thou thereat no mark, It is but like a heedless fly, that tumbleth in the dark. It was thine own request, remember so it was, Wherefore if thou dislike the same, then licence it to pass Into my breast again, from whence it flew in haste, Full like a kite which not deserves by falcons to be placed: And like a stubbed thorn, which may not seem to serve, To stand with such sweet smelling flowers, like praises to deserve. Yet take this harmless thorn, to pick thy teeth withal, A tooth pick serves some use perdie, although it be but small. And when they teeth therewith, be picked fair and clean, Then bend thy tongue no worse to me, than mine to thee hath been. MIne own good Bat, before thou hoist up sail, To make a furrow in the foaming seas, Content thyself to hear for thine avail, Such harmless words, as aught thee not displease. First in thy journey, jape not over much, What? laughest thou Batte, because I writ so plain? Believe me now it is a friendly touch, To use few words where friendship doth remain. And for I find, that fault hath run to fast, Both in thy flesh, and fancy too sometime, Me thinks plain dealing biddeth me to cast
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)
The falcon flie, and yet forewarne, ſhe row not paſt hir reach. Thus can I wéede the worme, which ſeeketh to deuoure The ſéeds of vertue, which might grow within thée euery houre. Thus can I kill the mowle, which elſe would ouerthrow The good foundacion of thy fame, with euery litle blowe. And thus can I conuey, out of thy comely breſt, The ſluttiſh heapes of péeuiſh pride, which might defile the reſt. Perchance ſome falcons flie, which will not greatly grutch, To learne thée firſt to loue thy ſelfe, and then to loue to mutch, But I am none of thoſe, I liſt not ſo to range, I haue mās meate enough at home, what néed I thē ſéeke change. I am no peacocke I: my feathers be not gay, And though they were, I ſée my feete ſuch fonde affectes to ſtay, I liſt not ſet to ſale a thing ſo litle worth, I rather could kepe cloſe my creaſt, than ſéeke to ſet it forth. Wherefore if in this verſe, which thou commandſt to flowe, Thou chaunce to fall on conſtruing, whereby ſome doubtes may grow, Yet grant this onely boone, peruſe it twice or thrice, Diſgeſt it well ere thou condemne the depth of my deuiſe. And vſe it like the nut, firſt cracke the outward ſhell, Then trie the kirnell by the taſt, and it may pleaſe thée well. Do not as barbers do, which waſh beards curiouſly, Then cut them off, then caſt them out, in open ſtréetes to lie. Remember therewithall, my muze is tied in chaines, The goonſhot of calamitie hath battred all my braynes. And though this verſe ſcape out, take thou thereat no marke, It is but like a hedleſſe flie, that tumbleth in the darke. It was thine owne requeſt, remember ſo it was, Wherefore if thou diſlike the ſame, then licence it to paſſe Into my breſt againe, from whence it flew in haſt, Full like a kight which not deſerues by falcons to be plaſt: And like a ſtubbed thorne, which may not ſéeme to ſerue, To ſtād with ſuch ſwéete ſmelling floures, like praiſes to deſerue. Yet take this harmeleſſe thorne, to picke thy téeth withall, A tooth picke ſerues ſome vſe perdie, although it be but ſmall. And when they téeth therewith, be piked faire and cleane, Then bend thy tong no worſe to me, than mine to thee hath bene. MIne owne good Bat, before thou hoyſe vp ſaile, To make a furrowe in the foming ſeas, Content thy ſelfe to heare for thine auaile, Such harmeleſſe words, as ought thée not diſpleaſe. Firſt in thy iourney, iape not ouer much, What? laugheſt thou Batte, bicauſe I write ſo plaine? Beléeue me now it is a friendly touch, To vſe fewe words where friendſhip doth remaine. And for I finde, that fault hath runne to faſt, Both in thy fleſh, and fancie too ſometime, Me thinks plaine dealing biddeth me to caſt