The Three Lords and Three Ladies of London · chunk 3 of 41
Wilson, Robert · published 1590 · first performed or written 1588 [1588-1590] (Annals) moral · Queen Elizabeth's Men (?) unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 501 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
If Wealth were away, Wit and Will would agree. Nay, Wit and will are at strife, when there's nobody but we. Let pass, and of our shields (sirs) let's make a little glee, what gives thy master here? a Buzzard or a Rite. Wit, you show yourself a Gentleman by guessing so right, A Buzzard? thou Buzyard, Wit, hast no more skill Than take a Falcon for a Buzzard. O be quiet good Wil: It was but for sport, for I know the bird else, Thou mightest see it was no Buzzard man by the bells: What's the reason of this Falcon, I pray thee Will show. Thou know'st that a Falcon wares high, and stoops low, So doth pleasure. And what's the word? Pour temps, for time. A very pretty one, I would it were in rhyme. In rhyme Wit, why so? Because it wants reason. Look for my fist Wit, if ye rap out such treason. Treason, to what, boy? To my masters bird. Now Will my thumb wags, it was but to his word. 'tis a pleasant Gentleman, this young mast. Wit, Your master hath something too, I pray ye what's it. Look will, and guess. 'tis a Load in a shell. I had as lief ye had said, a Frog in a well. Is't not a great Butterfly, Will, canst thou tell? What is it in sadness? A tortoise my boy, whose shell is so hard, that a loaden cart may go over and not break it, and so she is safe within, and wheresoever she goes, she bears it on her back, needing neither other succour or shelter but her shell: the word underneath her is Providens securus, the provident is safe, like to the tortoise, armed with his own defence, and defended with his own armour: in shape somewhat round, signifying compass, wherein always the provident foresee to keep themselves within their own compass, my boy. wittily spoken, now wealth's mayst. hath got a Daffadowndilly. If Will had not been wilful, now he might have said a Lily, whose glory is without comparison, and beauty matchless. for Salomon the most sumptuous King that ever was, was never comparable in glory with the Lily, neither is there any cities matchable with the pomp of London, mistake me not good boys, that this pomp tends to pride, yet London hath enough, but my Lord pomp doth rightly represent the stately magnificence and sumptuous estate without pride or vain glory to London accommodate, and therefore the word is well applied to the impreze (Glory sans peer) for that the Lily is neither proud of the beauty, nor vainglorious of the pomp: No more is London, but if it be joyful of any thing, it is of the peace and plenty, both flowing from two such fountains as becomes not us to name. Now therefore, my good boys, know that my Master is rather Magnificence than pomp in bad sense, and rather pomp than Pride in the best sense.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T34 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
If Wealth were away, Wit and Wil would agree. Nay, Wit and wil are at strife, when ther's no body but we. Let passe, and of our shields (sirs) let's make a litle glee, what giues thy maister here? a Buzzard or a Ryte. Wit, you showe your selfe a Gentleman by gssing so right, A Buzzard? thou Buzyard, Wit, hast no more skil Then take a Faulcon for a Buzzard. O be quiet good Wil: It was but for sport, for I know the bird els, Thou mightest see it was no Buzzard man by the bels: What's the reason of this Faulcon, I pray thee Will show. Thou knowst that a Faulcon wares hie, and stoupes low, So doeth pleasure. And what's the word? Pour temps, for time. A verie pretie one, I would it were in rime. In rime VVit, why so? Because it wantes reason. Looke for my fist VVit, if ye rap out such treason. Treason, to what, boy? To my maisters bird. Now Wil my thombe wags, it was but to his word. Tis a pleasant Gentleman, this yoong mast. Wit, Your maister hath samething too, I pray ye what's it. Looke wil, and gesse. Tis a Load in a shell. I had as léeue ye had said, a Frog in a well. Is't not a great Butterfly, Wil, canst thou tll? What is it in sadnesse? A Tortoys my boy, whose shell is so hard, that a loaden art may goe ouer and not breake it, and so she is safe within, and wheresoeuer shee goes, she beares it on her backe, needing neither other succour or shilter but her shell: the woord vnderneath her is Prouidens securus, the prouident is safe, like to the Tortoys, armed with his owne defence, and defended with his owne armour: in shape somewhat rounde, signifying compasse, wherein alwaies the prouident forsee to keepe themselues within their owne compasse, my boy. wittily spoken, now wealths maist. hath got a Daffadowndilly. If VVill had not bene wilfull, now he might haue saide a Lilly, whose glorie is without comparison, and beautie matchlesse. for Salomon the most sumptuos King that euer was, was neuer comparable in glorie with the Lilly, neither is ther any citties matchable with the pomp of London, mistake me not good boies, that this pompe tendes to pride, yet London hath ynough, but my Lord pomp doeth rightly represent the statelie magnificence and sumptuous estate without pride or vaine glorie to London accomodate, and therefore the woord is well applied to the ympreze (Glorie sauns peere) for that the Lillie is neither proud of the beautie, nor vainglorious of th pompe: No more is London, but if it be ioyful of any thing, it is of the peace and plentie, both flowing from two such fountaines as becomes not vs to name. Now therefore, my god boies, know that my Maister is rather Magnificence than pompe in bad sense, and rather pomp than Pride in the best sense.