Gascoigne, George / Kinwelmershe, Francis / Yelverton, ChristopherEuripides / Dolce, Lodovico · published 1575 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T6 Money, debt and credit · 494 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T6: money, master, pound, law, lawyer, chain, gentleman, gold, pay, pray.
And thought even there to wield the world at will, But out alas he much mistook the place, And shot awry at every rover still. The blazing baits which draw the gazing eye, Unfeather there his first affection, No wonder then although he shot awry, Wanting the feathers of discretion. Yet more than them, the marks of dignity, He much mistook and shot the wronger way, Thinking the purse of prodigality, Had been best mean to purchase such a prey. He thought the flattering face which fleareth still, Had been full fraught with all fidelity, And that such words as courtiers use at william. Can not have varied from the verity. But when his bonnet buttened with gold, His comely cape begarded all with gay, His bombast hose, with linings manifold, His knit silk stocks and all his quaint array, Had picked his purse of all the Peter pence, Which might have paid for his promotion, Then (all to late) he found that light expense, Had quite quenched out the courts devotion. So that since then the taste of misery, Hath been always full bitter in his bit, And why? forsooth because he shot awry, Mistaking still the marks which others hit, But now behold what mark the man doth found, He shoots to be a soldier in his age, Mistrusting all the virtues of the mind, He trusts the power of his parsonage. As though long limbs led by a lusty heart, Might yet suffice to make him rich again, But Flushing frays have taught him such a part, That now he thinks the wars yield no such gain. And sure I fear, unless your lordship deign, To train him yet into some better trade, It will be long before he hit the vein, Whereby he may a richer man be made. He cannot climb as other catchers can. To lead a charge before himself be led, He cannot spoil the simple sakeles man, Which is content to feed him with his bread. He cannot pinch the painful soldiers pay, And shear him out his share in ragged sheeets, He cannot stoop to take a greedy pray Upon his fellows groveling in the streets, He cannot pull the spoil from such as pill, And seem full angry at such foul offence, Although the gain content his greedy will, Under the cloak of contrary pretence: And now adays, the man that shoots not so, May shoot amiss, even as your Woodman doth: But than you marvel why I let them go, And never shoot, but say farewell forsooth: Alas my Lord, while I do muse hereon, And call to mind my youthful years myspente, They give me such a bone to gnaw upon, That all my senses are in silence penned. My mind is rapt in contemplation, Wherein my dazzled eyes only behold, The black hour of my constellation, Which framed me so luckless on the mould: Yet therewithal I can not but confess,
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)
And thought euen there to wield the world at will, But out alas he much miſtooke the place, And ſhot awrie at euery rouer ſtill. The blaſing baits which drawe the gazing eye, Vnfethered there his firſt affection, No wonder then although he ſhot awrie, Wanting the feathers of diſcretion. Yet more than them, the marks of dignitie, He much miſtooke and ſhot the wronger way, Thinking the purſe of prodigalitie, Had bene beſt meane to purchaſe ſuch a pray. He thought the flattring face which fleareth ſtill, Had bene full fraught with all fidelitie, And that ſuch wordes as courtiers vſe at will. Could not haue varied from the veritie. But when his bonet buttened with gold, His comelie cape begarded all with gay, His bumbaſt hoſe, with linings manifold, His knit ſilke ſtocks and all his queint aray, Had pickt his purſe of all the Peter pence, Which might haue paide for his promotion, Then (all to late) he found that light expence, Had quite quencht out the courts deuotion. So that ſince then the taſt of miſerie, Hath bene alwayes full bitter in his bit, And why? forſooth bicauſe he ſhot awrie, Miſtaking ſtill the markes which others hit, But now behold what marke the man doth find, He ſhootes to be a ſouldier in his age, Miſtruſting all the vertues of the minde, He truſts the power of his perſonage. As though long limmes led by a luſty hart, Might yet ſuffice to make him rich againe, But Fluſhyng fraies haue taught him ſuch a parte, That now he thinks the warres yéeld no ſuch gaine. And ſure I feare, vnleſſe your lordſhip deigne, To traine him yet into ſome better trade, It will be long before he hit the veine, Whereby he may a richer man be made. He cannot climbe as other catchers can. To leade a charge before himſelfe be led, He cannot ſpoile the ſimple ſakeles man, Which is content to feede him with his bread. He cannot pinch the painefull ſouldiers pay, And ſheare him out his ſhare in ragged ſhéetes, He cannot ſtoupe to take a gréedy pray Vpon his fellowes groueling in the ſtréetes, He cannot pull the ſpoyle from ſuch as pill, And ſéeme full angrie at ſuch foule offence, Although the gayne content his gréedie will, Vnder the cloake of contrarie pretence: And now adayes, the man that ſhootes not ſo, May ſhoote amiſſe, euen as your Woodman dothe: But then you maruell why I lette them go, And neuer ſhoote, but ſaye farewell forſooth: Alas my Lord, while I doe muze hereon, And call to minde my youthfull yeares myſpente, They giue mee ſuche a boane to gnawe vpon, That all my ſenſes are in ſilence pente. My minde is rapte in contemplation, Wherein my dazeled eyes onely beholde, The blacke houre of my conſtellation, Which framed mée ſo luckleſſe on the molde: Yet therewithall I can not but confeſſe,