Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 7 of 44
Dekker, Thomas · published 1602 · first performed or written 1601 (Annals) comedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second) T35 Fools, wit and railing typicality 0.79 · 476 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
I thank you good Asinius for your love, I seldom take that Physic, 'tis enough Having so much fool to take him in snuff. Good Bubo read some book, and give us leave— Leave have you dear Ningle, marry for reading any book I'll take my death upon't (as my Ningle says) 'tis out of my Element: no faith, ever since I felt one hit me i'th' teeth that the greatest Clerks are not the wisest men, could I abide to go to School, I was at As in presenti and left there: yet because I'll not be counted a worse fool than I am, I'll turn over a new leaf. To see my fate, that when I dip my pen In distilled Roses, and do strive to drain, Out of mine Ink all gall; that when I weigh Each syllable I write or speak, because Mine enemies with sharp and searching eye; Look through & through me, carving my poor labours Like an Anatomy: Oh heavens to see, That when my lines are measured out as straight As even Parallels, 'tis strange that still, Still some imagine they are drawn away. The error is not mine, but in their eye, That cannot take proportions. Horace, Horace, To stand within the shot of galling tongues, Proves not your gilt, for could we write on paper, Made of these turning leaves of heaven, the clouds, Or speak with Angels tongues: yet wise men know, That some would shake the head, though Saints should sing, Some snakes must hiss, because they reborn with stings. 'tis true. Do we not see fools laugh in heaven and mock The maker's workmanship; be not you grieved If that which you mould fair, upright and smooth, Be screwed a wry, made crooked, lame and vile, By racking comments, and calumnious tongues, So to be bit it rankles not: for innocence May with a feather brush off the foulest wrongs. But when your dastard wit will strike at men In corners, and in riddles fold the vices Of your best friends, you must not take to heart, If they take off all gild from their pills, And only offer you the bitter core. Crispinus. Say that you have not sworn unto your Paper, To blot her white cheeks with her dregs and bottom Of your friends private vices: say you swear Your love and your allegiance to bright virtue Makes you descend so low, as to put on The Office of an Executioner, Only to strike off the head of sin, Where ere you find it standing, Say you swear; And make damnation parcel of your oath, That when your lashing jests make all men bleed; Yet you whip none. Court, City, country, friends, Foes, all must smart alike; yet Court, nor City, Nor foe, nor friend, dare winch at you; great pity.
Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men and Children of Paul's (second)
Genre (British Drama)
comedy
Play type
Boys Professional;Adult Professional;Professional
Edition / TCP / DEEP
edition 444 · TCP A20081 · DEEP 344
Edition role
Representative edition — used in the analysis
Position
nodes 181–232 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 7 of 44 in this edition
Length
476 words · 621 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T35 — Fools, wit and railingcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.789 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T58 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I thanke you good for your loue, I fildome take that Phisicke, tis enough Hauing so much foole to take him in snuffe. Good Bubo read some booke▪ and giue vs leaue— Leaue haue you deare Ningle, marry for reading any book Ile take my death vpout (as my Ningle sayes) tis out of my Elemēt: no faith, eue since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest Clarkes are not the wisest men, could I abide to goe to Schoole, I was at As in present and left there: yet because Ile not be counted a worle foole then I am, Ile turne ouer a new leafe. To see my fate, that when I dip my pen In distilde Roses, and doe striue to dreine, Out of myne Inke all gall; that when I wey Each sillable I write or speake, because Mine enemies with sharpe and searching eye▪ Looke through & through me, caruing my poore labours Like an Anotomy: Oh heauen to see, That when my lines are measur'd out as straight As euen Paralels, tis strange that still, Still some imagine they are drawne awy. The error is not mine, but in theyr eye, That cannot take proportions. Horrace, Horrace, To stand within the shot of galling tongues, Proues not your gilt, for could we write on paper, Made of these turning of heauen, the cloudes, Or speake with Angels tongues▪ yet wise men know, That some would shae the head, tho Saints should sing, Some snakes , because they reborne with stings. Tis true. Doe we not see fooles laugh heauen and mocke The Mákers workmanship; be not you grieu'd If that which you molde faire, vpright and smooth, Be skrwed a wry, made crooked, lame and vile, By racking coments, ad calumnious tongues, So to be bit it raukcles not: for innocence May with a feather brush off the foulest wrongs. But when your dstard wit will strike at men In corners, and in riddles folde the vices Of your best friends, you must not take to heart, If they take off all gilding from their pilles, And onely offer you the bitter Coare. Crispinus. Say that you haue not sworne vnto your Paper, To blot her white cheekes with her dregs and bottome Of your friends priuate vices: say you sweare Your loue and your aleageance to bright vertue Makes you descend so low, as to put on The Office of an Executioner, Onely to strike off the head of sinne, Where ere you finde it standing, Say you sweare; And make damnation parcell of your oath, That when your lashing iestes make all men bleed; Yet you whip none. Court, Citty, country, friends, Foes, all must smart alike; yet Court, nor Citty, Nor foe, nor friend, dare winch at you; great pitty.