Randolph, Thomas · published 1638 · first performed or written 1630 [licensed for stage, Nov 25] (Annals) moral · King's Revels Company unassigned nearest T62 The courtier as a type: fashion, affecta · 486 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T62: courtier, shrug, face, court, italian, monsieur, scholar, fashion, french, courtiers.
Very well; And yet you would make me a Constable. I'll evidently demonstrate that of all men Your Carpentes are best Statesmen; of all Carpenters I being the best, am best of Statesmen too: Imagine Sir the Commonwealth a Log, Or a rude block of wood; your Statesman comes, (For by that word I mean a Carpenter) And with the saw of Policy divides it Into so many boards or several orders, Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other Inferior boards called Vulgar, fit for nothing But to make styles, or planks to be▪ trod over, Or trampled on: This adds unto the Log Called Commonwealth at least some small perfection: But afterwards he plains them, and so makes The Commonwealth, that was before a board, A pretty Wainscoat; some he carves with Titles Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; Some stand plain, And serve us more for use then Ornament, We call them Yeomen; (Board's now out of fashion.) And lest the disproportion break the frame, He with the pegs of amity and concord, As with the gluepot of good Government joints 'em together, makes an absolute Edifice Of the Republic: State-skilled Machiavelli Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you think A Constable a Giant Dignity. Pray Heaven that Icarus-like I do not melt The waxen plumes of my ambition! Or that from this bright Chariot of the Sun I fall not headlong down with Phaeton, I have aspired so high: make me a Constable That have not yet attained to the Greek tongue! Why 'tis his office for to keep the peace, His Majesty's Peace: I am not fit to keep His Majesty's Hogs, much less his Peace, the best Of all his jewels: How dare I presume To charge a man in the King's name! I faint Under the burden of so great a place, Whose weight might press down Atlas: Magistrates Are only Sumpter-horses. Nay they threaten me To make me Warden of the Church. Am I a Patriot? or have I ability To present Knights-Recusant, Clergy-Reelers, Or Gentlemen-Fornicators? You have worth Richly enameled with a modesty. And though your lofty merit might sit crowned On Caucasus, or the Pyrenean mountains, You choose the humbler valley, and had rather Grow a safe shrub below, then dare the winds, And be a Cedar: Sir you know there is not Half so much honour in the Pilots place As danger in the storm. Poor windy Titles Of Dignity, and offices that puff up The bubble pride till it swell big, and burst, What are they but brave nothings? Toys called Honours Make them on whom they are bestowed no better Than glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar: Men sweat at Helm, as much as at the Oar. There is a Glass within shall show you sir The vanity of these silke-wormes, that do think They toil not, 'cause they spin so fine a thread.
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)
Very well; And yet you would make me a Constable. I'le evidently demonstrate that of all men Your Carpentes are best States-men; of all Carpenters I being the best, am best of Statesmen too: Imagine Sir the Common-wealth a Logge, Or a rude block of wood; your States-man comes, (For by that word I mean a Carpenter) And with the sawe of Policy divides it Into so many boards or severall orders, Of Prince, Nobility, Gentry, and the other Inferiour boards calld Vulgar, fit for nothing But to make styles, or planks to be ▪trod over, Or trampled on: This addes unto the Logg Call'd Common-wealth at least some smal perfection: But afterwards he plains them, and so makes The Common-wealth, that was before a board, A pretty Wainscoat; some he carves with Titles Of Lord, or Knight, or Gentleman; Some stand plain, And serve us more for use then Ornament, We call them Yeomen; (Boards now out of fashion.) And lest the disproportion breake the frame, He with the peggs of amity and concord, As with the glew-pot of good Government Ioynts 'em together, makes an absolute Edifice Of the Re-publique: State-skill'd Machiavell Was certainly a Carpenter; yet you thinke A Constable a Gyant Dignity. Pray Heaven that Icarus-like I doe not melt The waxen plumes of my ambition! Or that from this bright Chariot of the Sunne I fall not headlong down with Phaeton, I have aspir'd so high: make me a Constable That have not yet attain'd to the Greeke tongue! Why 'tis his office for to keepe the peace, His Majesties Peace: I am not fit to keepe His Majesties Hoggs, much lesse his Peace, the best Of all his jewells: How dare I presume To charge a man in the Kings name! I faint Vnder the burthen of so great a place, Whose weight might presse down Atlas: Magistrates Are only Sumpter-horses. Nay they threaten me To make me Warden of the Church. Am I a Patriot? or have I ability To present Knights-Recusant, Clergy-Reelers, Or Gentlemen-Fornicators? You have worth Richly enamel'd with a modesty. And though your lofty merit might sit crown'd On Caucasus, or the Pyrenean mountaines, You choose the humbler valley, and had rather Grow a safe shrub below, then dare the winds, And be a Cedar: Sir you know there is not Halfe so much honour in the Pilots place As danger in the storme. Poore windy Titles Of Dignity, and offices that puffe up The bubble pride till it swell big, and burst, What are they but brave nothings? Toies cal'd Honours Make them on whom they are bestow'd no better Then glorious slaves, the servants of the Vulgar: Men sweat at Helme, as much as at the Oare. There is a Glasse within shall shew you sir The vanity of these filke-wormes, that doe think They toile not, 'cause they spin so fine a thread.