The Merchant of Venice (The Jew of Venice) · chunk 19 of 43
Shakespeare, William · published 1619 · first performed or written 1596 [1596-1598] (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.80 · 509 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
And so have I addressed me, fortune now To my hearts hope: Gold, silver, and base Lead. Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. You shall look fairer ere I give or hazard. What says the golden Chest? ha, let me see, Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire. What many men desire, that many may be meant By the foole-multitude, that choose by show: Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th'interior; but like the Martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits, And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee thou silver treasure house, Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. And well said too, for who shall go about To cozen Fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit, let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity: O that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer, How many then should cover, that stand bare? How many be commanded, that command? How much low pezantry would then be gleaned From the true seed of honour? And how much honour, Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times To be new varnished? well, but to my choice, Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, And instantly unlock my fortunes here. Too long a pause for that which you find there. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule? I will read it. How much unlike art thou to Portia? How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings. Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves. Did I deserve no more than a fools head? Is that my prize? Are my deserts no better? To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed Natures. What here? The fire seven times tried this: Seven times tried that judgement is, That did never choose amiss. Some there be that shadows kiss, Such have but a shadows bliss: There be fools alive I wis, Silvered o'er, and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head: So be gone, you are sped. Still more fool I shall appear, By the time I linger here, With one fools head I came to woe, But I go away with two. Sweet adieu, I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wrath. Thus hath the candle singed the Moth. O these deliberate fools, when they do choose, They have their wisdom, by their wit to lose. The ancient saying is no heresy, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. Come draw the curtain Nerrissa. Where is my Lady? Hear, what would my Lord?
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 850–918 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 19 of 43 in this edition
Length
509 words · 657 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T19 — Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractionsreviewed — decision pending · typicality 0.798 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
And ſo haue I addreſt me, fortune now To my hearts hope: Gold, Siluer, and baſe Lead. Who chooſeth me, muſt giue and hazard all he hath. You ſhall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard. VVhat ſayes the golden Cheſt? ha, let me ſee, VVho chooſeth me, ſhall gaine what many men deſire. VVhat many men deſire, that many may be meant By the foole-multitude, that chuſe by ſhow: Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach, VVhich pries not to th'interiour; but like the Martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Euen in the force and rode of caſualty. I will not chuſe what many men deſire, Becauſe I will not iumpe with common ſpirits, And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes. VVhy then to thee thou Siluer treaſure houſe, Tell me once more what title thou doſt beare: Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deſerues. And well ſaid too, for who ſhall go about To coſen Fortune, and be honourable VVithout the ſtampe of merit, let none preſume To weare an vndeſerued dignity: O that eſtates, degrees, and offices, VVere not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honor VVere purchac'd by the merit of the wearer, How many then ſhould couer, that ſtand bare? How many be commanded, that command? How much low pezantry would then be gleaned From the true ſeede of honor? And how much honor, Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times To be new verniſh'd? well, but to my choiſe, Who chooſeth me ſhall get as much as he deſerues. I will aſſume deſert. Giue me a key for this, And inſtantly vnlocke my fortunes heere. Too long a pauſe for that which you finde there. VVhat's heere, the portrait of a blinking Ideot, Preſenting me a ſedule? I will reade it. How much vnlike art thou to Portia? How much vnlike my hopes, and my deſeruings. Who chooſeth me ſhall haue as much as he deſerues. Did I deſerue no more then a fooles head? Is that my prize? Are my deſerts no better? To offend and iudge are diſtinct offices, And of oppoſed Natures. VVhat heere? The fire ſeuen times tried this: Seuen times tried that iudgement is, That did neuer chooſe amis. Some there be that ſhadowes kis, Such haue but a ſhadowes blis: There be fooles aliue I wis, Siluer'd o're, and ſo was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I will euer be your head: So be gone, you are sped. Still more foole I ſhall appeere, By the time I linger heere, VVith one fooles head I came to woe, But I go away vvith two. Sweet adieu, Ile keepe my oath, Patiently to beare my vvroath. Thus hath the candle ſing'd the Moth. O theſe deliberate fooles, vvhen they do chooſe, They haue their wiſedome, by their wit to looſe. The ancient ſaying is no hereſie, Hanging and wiuing goes by deſtiny. Come draw the Curtaine Nerriſſa. Where is my Lady? Heere, what would my Lord?