Jonson, Ben · published 1601 · first performed or written 1598 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 483 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
But Piso, this is not the secret I told thee of. No sir, I suppose so. Nay believe me it is not. I do believe you sir. By heaven it is not, that's enough. Marry, I would not thou shouldst utter it to any creature living. Yet I care not. Well, I must hence: Piso conceive thus much, No ordinary person could have drawn So deep a secret from me; I mean not this, But that I have to tell thee: this is nothing, this. Piso, remember, silence, buried here: No greater hell then to be slave to fear. Piso, remember, silence, buried here: Whence should this flow of passion (trow) take head? ha? Faith i'll dream no longer of this running humour. For fear I sink, the violence of the stream Already hath transported me so far, That I can feel no ground at all: but soft, Oh it's our water bearer: somewhat has crossed him now. Fasting days: what tell you me of your fasting days▪ would they were all on a light fire for me: they say the world shall be consumed with fire and brimstone in the latter day: but I would we had these ember weeks, and these villainous fridaies burnt in the mean time, and then— Why how now Cob, what moves thee to this choler? ha? Collar fire 'swounds I scorn your collar, I sir am no colliers horse sir, never ride me with your collar, and you do, i'll show you a jades trick. Oh you'll slip your head out of the collar: why Cob you mistake me. Nay I have my rheum, and I be angry as well as another, sir. Thy rheum; thy humour man, thou mistakest. Humour? macke, I think it be so indeed: what is this humour? it's some rare thing I warrant. Marry i'll tell thee what it is (as 'tis generally received in these days) it is a monster bred in a man by self love, and affectation, and fed by folly. How? must it be fed? Oh ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed, why, didst thou never hear of that? it's a common phrase, Feed my humor. I'll none on it: humour, avaunt, I know you not, be gone. Let who will make hungry meals for you, it shall not be I: Feed you quoth he? s'blood I have much ado to feed myself, especially on these 〈...〉 days too, and't had been any other day but a fasting day: a plague on them all for me: by this light one might have done God good service and have drowned them all in the flood two or three hundred thousand years ago, oh I do stomach them hugely: I have a maw now, and't were for Sir Be●isses horse. Nay, but I pray thee Cob, what makes thee so out of love with fasting days?
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)
But Piso, this is not the secret I told thee of. No sir, I suppose so. Nay beleeue me it is not. I do beleeue you sir. By heauen it is not, that's enough. Marrie, I would not thou shouldst vtter it to any creature liuing. Yet I care not. Well, I must hence: Piso conceiue thus much, No ordinarie person could haue drawne So deepe a secret from me; I meane not this, But that I haue to tell thee: this is nothing, this. Piso, remember, silence, buried here: No greater hell then to be slaue to feare. Piso, remember, silence, buried here: Whence should this flow of passion (trow) take head? ha? Faith ile dreame no longer of this running humor. For feare I sinke, the violence of the streame Alreadie hath transported me so farre, That I can feele no ground at all: but soft, Oh it's our water bearer: somewhat ha's crost him now. Fasting dayes: what tell you me of your fasting dayes▪ would they were all on a light fire for mee: they say the world shall be consum'd with fire and brimstone in the latter day: but I would we had these ember weekes, and these villanous fridaies burnt in the meane time, and then— Why ow now Cb, what moues thee to this choller? ha? Coller fir swounds I scorn your coller, I sir am no colliers horse sir, neuer ride me with your coller, and you doe, ile shew you a iades tricke. Oh you'le slip your head out of the coller: why Cob you mistake me. Nay I haue my rewme, and I be angrie as well as another, sir. Thy rewme; thy humor man, thou mistakest. Humor? macke, I thinke it bee so indeed: what is this humor? it's some rare hing I warrant. Marrie ile tell thee what it is (as tis generally receiued in these daies) it is a monster bred in a man by selfe loue, and affectation, and fed by folly. How? must be Oh I▪ humor is nothing if it e not ed, why, didst thou heare of that? it's a common phrase, Feed my . Ile none on it: humor, auaunt, I know you not, be gon. Let who will make hungry meales for you, it shall not bee I: Feed you quoth blood I haue much adoe to feed my self, especially on these daies oo, and't had beene any other day but a fasting day▪ on them all for mee: by this light one might haue done God good seruice and haue drown'd them in the floud two or three hundred thousand year ago, oh I do stomacke them hugely: I haue a mawe now, and't were for Beisses horse. Nay, but I pray thee Cob, what makes thee so out of loue with fasting daies?