Randolph, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1630 [licensed for stage, Nov 25] (Annals) moral · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 479 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
And I do think there is no pleasure at all But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe And blessed Daphne, and all such as are Turned stocks and stones: would I were Laurel too, Or marble, I, or any thing insensible. It is a toil for me to eat or drink, Only for nature's satisfaction; Would I could live without it. To my ear Music is but a mandrake. To my smell Nard scents of rue, and wormwood; And I taste Nectar with as much loathing, and distaste As Gall, or aloes, or my Doctor's potion. My eye can meet no object but I hate it. Come Brother Stoic be not so melancholy. Be not so foolish Brother Epicure. Come we'll go see a Comedy, that will raise Thy heavy spirits up. A Comedy? Sure I delight much in those toys; I can With as much patience hear the Mariners Chide in a storm. Then le's go drink a while. 'Tis too much Labour; Happy Tantalus That never drinks. A little Venery Shall recreate thy soul. Yes like an itch, For 'tis no better, I could wish an heir; But that I cannot take the pains to get one. Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender, As not to do it otherwise; Then 'tis lawful. True Matrimonies nothing else indeed But fornication licensed, lawful Adultery. O Heavens! how all my senses are wide sluices To let in discontent and miseries! How happy are the moles that have no eyes; How blessed the Adders that they have no ears. They neither see, nor hear aught that afflicts them. But happier they that have no sense all; That neither see, nor hear, taste, smell, nor feel Any thing to torment them: souls were given To torture Bodies, man has reason too To add unto the heap of his distractions. I can see nothing without sense, and motion, But I do wish myself transformed into it. Sir I commend this temperance; your armed soul Is able to contemn these petty baits, These slight temptations, which we title pleasures; That are indeed but names; He'ven itself knows No such like thing; the stars nor eat, nor drink, Nor lie with one another; and you imitate Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence You gain the names of moderate, chaste, and sober; While this effeminate gets the infamous terms Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer; Pleasures, that are not man's, as man is man, But as his nature sympathies with beasts. You shall be the third Cato. This grave look And rigid eyebrow will become a censor. But I will fit you with an object Sir, My noble Anaisthetus that will please you. It is a Looking-glass, wherein at once You may see all the dismal groves and caves, The horrid vaults, dark cells, and barren deserts, With what in Hell itself can dismal be.
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 I doe think there is no pleasure at all But in contemning pleasures; Happy Niobe And blessed Daphne, and all such as are Turn'd stocks and stones: would I were Lawrell too, Or marble, I, or any thing insensible. It is a toyle for me to eate or drink, Only for natures satisfaction; Would I could live without it. To my eare Musique is but a mandrake. To my smell Nard sents of rue, and wormwood; And I tast Nectar with as much loathing, and distast As Gall, or aloes, or my Doctors potion. My eye can meete no object but I hate it. Come Brother Stoique be not so melancholy. Be not so foolish Brother Epicure. Come wee'le goe see a Comedy, that will raise Thy heavy spirits up. A Comedy? Sure I delight much in those toyes; I can With as much patience heare the Marriners Chide in a storme. Then lets goe drinke a while. 'Tis too much Labour; Happy Tantalus That never drinks. A little Venery Shall recreate thy soule. Yes like an itch, For 'tis no better, I could wish an heire; But that I cannot take the paines to get one. Why, marry, if your conscience be so tender, As not to doe it otherwise; Then 'tis lawfull. True Matrimony's nothing else indeed But fornication licens'd, lawfull Adultery. O Heavens! how all my senses are wide sluces To let in discontent and miseries! How happy are the moles that have no eyes; How blest the Adders that they have no eares. They neither see, nor heare ought that afflicts them. But happier they that have no sence all; That neither see, nor heare, tast, smell, nor feele Any thing to torment them: soules were given To torture Bodyes, man has reason too To adde unto the heape of his distractions. I can see nothing without sense, and motion, But I doe wish my selfe transform'd into it. Sir I cōmend this temperance; your arm'd soule Is able to contemne these petty baits, These slight temptations, which we title pleasures; That are indeed but names; He'ven it selfe knows No such like thing; the starres nor eate, nor drink, Nor lye with one another; and you imitate Those glorious bodies, by which noble abstinence You gaine the names of moderate, chast, and sober; While this effeminate gets the infamous termes Of Glutton, Drunkard, and Adulterer; Pleasures, that are not mans, as man is man, But as his nature sympathies with beasts. You shall be the third Cato. This grave look And rigid eyebrow will become a censor. But I will fit you with an object Sir, My noble Anaisthetus that will please you. It is a Looking-glasse, wherein at once You may see all the dismall groves and caves, The horrid vaults, darke cells, and barren deserts, With what in Hell it selfe can dismall be.