Dekker, Thomas · published 1600 · first performed or written 1599 [Nov 9-30, payment] (Annals) romance · Admiral's (Nottingham's) Men · before the Court T35 Fools, wit and railing typicality 0.71 · 511 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorn, Who's that fool? the fool, he wears a horn. Virtue stand aside, mock him, mock him, mock him Laugh aloud to see him, call him fool. Error gave him suck, now sorrows rock him, Send the riotous beast to madness school. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorn, Who's the fool? the fool, he wears a horn. Virtue stand aside: your school he hates. Laugh aloud to see him, mock, mock, mock him. Vanity and hell keep open gates, he's in, and a new nurse (Despair) must rock him. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorn, Fool, fool, fool, fool, fool, wear still the horn. O me, what hell is this? fiends, tempt me not. Thou glorious devil hence. Oh now I see, This fruit is thine, thou hast deformed me: Idiot avoid, thy gifts I loathe to taste. Away: since I am entered madness School, As good to be a beast, as be a fool. Away, why tempt you me? some powerful grace Come and redeem me from this hideous place. To her hath Andelocia (all his life) Sworn fealty, wouldst thou forsake her now? Whose blessed tongue names Andelocia? Hers, who (attended on by destinies) Shortened thy Father's life, and lengthens thine. O sacred Queen of chance, now shorten mine, Else let thy deity take off this shame. Woo her, 'twas she that set it on thy head. She laughs to see me metamorphosed. Woo me and i'll take off this ugly scorn. Woo me, and i'll clap on another horn. I am beset with anguish, shame and death. O bid the Fates work fast, and stop my breath. No Andelecia, thou must live to see Worse torments (for thy follies) light on thee. This golden tree, which did thine eyes entice, Was planted here by Vice: lo, here stands Vice: How often hast thou sued to win her grace? Till now, I never did behold her face. Thou didst behold her at thy father's death, When thou in scorn didst violate his will, Thou didst behold her, when thy stretched-out arm Catched at the highest bough, the loftiest vice, The fairest Apple, but the foulest price. Thou didst behold her, when thy liquorish eye Fed on the beauty of fair Agrippine, Because thou'dst gold, thou thoughtst all women thine, When look'st thou off from her? for they whose souls Still revel in the nights of vanity, On the fair cheeks of Vice still fix their eye. Because her face doth shine, and all her bosom Bears silver Moons, thou wast enamoured of her. But hadst thou upward looked, and seen these shames, Or viewed her round about, and in this glass Seen idiot's faces, heads of devils and hell, And read this ha, ha, he, this merry story, Thou wouldst have loathed her: where, by loving her, Thou bear'st this face, and wear'st this ugly head, And if she once can bring thee to this place, Loud sounds these ha, ha, he, she'll laugh apace.
nodes 1569–1630 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 35 of 48 in this edition
Length
511 words · 732 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T35 — Fools, wit and railingcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.710 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorne, Who's yt foole? the foole, he wears a horne. Uertue stād aside, mock him, mock him, mock him Laugh alowd to sée him, call him foole. Error gaue him sucke, now sorrowes rocke him, Send the riotous beast to madnes schoole. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorne, Who's the foole? the foole, he weares a horne. Uertue stand aside: your schoole hee hates. Laugh alowd to sée him, mocke, mocke, mock him. Uanitie and hell kéepe open gates, Hées in, and a newe nurse (Despaire) must rocke him. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, laugh, laugh in scorne, Foole, foole, foole, foole, foole, weare still the horne. O me, what hell is this? fiends, tempt me not. Thou glorious diuell hence. Oh now I sée, This fruit is thine, thou hatt deformed mée: Ideot auoide, thy gifts I loath to tast. Away: since I am entred madnes Schoole, As good to be a beast, as be a foole. Away, why tempt you me? some powrefull grace Come and redéeme me from this hideous place. To her hath Andelocia (all his life) Sworne fealtie, wouldst thou forsake her now? Whose blessed tongue names Andelocia? Hers, who (attended on by destinies) Shortned thy Fathers life, and lengthens thine. O sacred Quéene of chance, now thorten mine, Else let thy deitie take off this shame. Wooe her, t'was shée that set it on thy head. Shée laughes to sée me metamorphosed. Wooe me and ile take off this vgly scorne. Wooe me, and ile clap on another horne. I am beset with anguish, shame and death. O bid the Fates worke fast, and stop my breath. No Andelecia, thou must liue to sée Worse torments (for thy follies) light on thée. This golden trée, which did thine eyes intice, Was planted here by Uice: loe, here stands Uice: How often hast thou sued to win her grace? Till now, I neuer did behold her face. Thou didst behold her at thy fathers death, When thou in scorne didst violate his will, Thou didst behold her, when thy strecht-out arme Catcht at the highest bough, the loftiest vice, The fairest Apple, but the fowlest price. Thou didst behold her, when thy lickerish eye Fed on the beautie of faire Agripyne, Because th'adst gold, thou thoughtst al women thine, When look'st thou off from her? for they whose soules Still reuell in the nights of vanitie, On the faire chéekes of Uice still fixe their eye. Because her face doth shine, and all her bosome Beares siluer Moones, thou wast enamord of her. But hadst thou vpward lookt, and séene these shames, Or viewd her round about, and in this glasse Séene Idiots faces, heads of diuels and hell, And read this ha, ha, he, this merrie storie, Thou wouldst haue loathd her: where, by louing her, Thou bearst this face, and wearst this vgly head, And if shée once can bring thée to this place, Lowd sounds these ha, ha, he, shéele laugh apace.