Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written c.1595 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 509 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.
This jest is dry to me. Gentle sweet, Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greet With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye: By light we lose light; your capacity Is of that nature, that to your huge store, Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor. This proves you wise and rich: for in my eye I am a fool, and full of poverty. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. O, I am yours and all that I possess. All the fool mine. I cannot give you less. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore? Where? when? What Vizard? Why demand you this? There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case, That hide the worse, and showed the better face. We are descried, They'll mock us now downright. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. Amazed my Lord? Why looks your Highness' sad? Help hold his brows, he'll sound: why look you pale? Sea-sick I think coming from Muscovie. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. Can any face of brass hold longer out? here stand I Lady dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit: And I will wish thee never more to dance, Nor never more in Russian habit wait. O! never will I trust to speeches penned, Nor to the motion of a Schoolboys tongue Nor never come in vizard to my friend, Nor woe in rhyme like a blind-harpers song, Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedantical, these summer flies, Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. I do forswear them, and I here protest, By this white Glove (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expressed In russet yea, and honest kersie no's. And to begin Wench, so God help me law, My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. Sans, sans, I pray you. Yet I have a trick Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick. I'll leave it by degrees: soft, let us see, Writ Lord have mercy on us, on those three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I see. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue. Peace, for I will not have to do with you. Nor shall not, if I do as I intent. Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end. Teach us sweet Madame, for our rude transgression, some fair excuse. The fairest is confession. Were you not here but even now, disguised?
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)
This ieſt is drie to me. Gentle ſweete, Your wits makes wiſe things fooliſh when we greete With eies beſt ſeeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we looſe light; your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your huge ſtoore, Wiſe things ſeeme fooliſh, and rich things but poore. This proues you wiſe and rich: for in my eie I am a foole, and full of pouertie. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to ſnatch words from my tongue. O, I am yours and all that I poſſeſſe. All the foole mine. I cannot giue you leſſe. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore? Where? when? What Vizard? Why demand you this? There, then, that vizard, that ſuperfluous caſe, That hid the worſe, and ſhew'd the better face. We are diſcried, They'l mocke vs now downeright. Let vs confeſſe, and turne it to a ieſt. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes ſadde? Helpe hold his browes, hee'l ſound: why looke you pale? Sea-ſicke I thinke comming from Muſcouie. Thus poure the ſtars down plagues for periury. Can any face of braſſe hold longer out? Heere ſtand I Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruiſe me with ſcorne, confound me with a flout. Thruſt thy ſharpe wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit: And I will wiſh thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Ruſsian habit waite. O! neuer will I truſt to ſpeeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers ſongue, Taffata phraſes, ſilken tearmes preciſe, Three-pil'd Hyperboles, ſpruce affection; Figures pedanticall, theſe ſummer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot oſtentation. I do forſweare them, and I heere proteſt, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my woing minde ſhall be expreſt In ruſſet yeas, and honeſt kerſie noes. And to begin Wench, ſo God helpe me law, My loue to thee is ſound, ſans cracke or flaw. Sans, ſans, I pray you. Yet I haue a tricke Of the old rage: beare with me, I am ſicke. Ile leaue it by degrees: ſoft, let vs ſee, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on thoſe three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: Theſe Lords are viſited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I ſee. No, they are free that gaue theſe tokens to vs. Our ſtates are forfeit, ſeeke not to vndo vs. It is not ſo; for how can this be true, That you ſtand forfeit, being thoſe that ſue. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you. Nor ſhall not, if I do as I intend. Speake for your ſelues, my wit is at an end. Teach vs ſweete Madame, for our rude tranſgreſsion, ſome faire excuſe. The faireſt is confeſsion. Were you not heere but euen now, diſguis'd?