Satiromastix, or The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet · chunk 24 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) unassigned nearest T16 Gallantry: ladies, lordships and complim · 497 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T16: lady, madam, gentleman, lordship, ladies, honour, mistress, sweet, court, servant.
Mistress Minivers, pray be lusty, would Sir Adams Prickshaft stuck by you. Who, the bald Knight Sir Vaughan? The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcel of hair, his crown is clipped and pared away; methinks 'tis an excellent quality to be bald; for and there stuck a nose and two nyes in his pate, he might wear two faces under one hood. As God save me la, if I might ha' my will, I'd rather be a bald Gentleman than a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England have bald heads: methinks hair is a scurvy lousy commodity. Bubo, herein you blaze your ignorance. Pray stop and fill your mouths, and give M. Horace all your ears. For, if of all the bodies parts, the head Be the most royal: if discourse, wit, judgement, And all our understanding faculties, Sit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting laws to sway this humorous world: This little I'll of Man: needs must that crown, Which stands upon this supreme head, he fair, And held invaluable, and that crown's the Hair: The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is hare in name and in authority. He means baldpates mistress Minivers. Hair, 'tis the robe which curious nature weaves, To hang upon the head: and does adorn, Our bodies in the first hour we are horn: God does bestow that garment: when we die, That (like a soft and silken Canopy) Is still spread over us; in spite of death Our hair grows in our grave, and that alone Looks fresh, when all our other beauty's gone. The excellence of Hair, in this shines clear, That the four Elements take pride to wear The fashion of it: when Fire most bright does burn, The flames to golden locks do strive to turn; When her lascivious arms the Water hurls, About the shores waist, her sleek head she curls: And rorid clouds being sucked into the Air, When down they melt, hangs like fine silver hair. You see the Earth (whose head so oft it shorn) Frighted to feel her locks so rudely Stands with her hair an end, and (thus afraid) Turns every hair to a green naked blade. Besides, when (struck with grief) we long to die, We spoil that most, which most does beautify, We rend this head-tire off. I thus conclude, colours set colours out; our eyes judge right, Of vice or virtue by their opposite: So, if fair hair to beauty ad such grace, Baldness must needs be ugly, vile and base. True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no hairs upon't, a scurvy scalded reason. By my truly I never thought you could ha' picked such strange things out of hair before. Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when he comes to't. Troth I shall never be enameled of a bareheaded man for this, what shift soever I make.
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)
Mistris Miniuers, pray bee lustie, wod Sir Adams Prickshaft stucke by you. Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan? The same M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par'd away; me thinkes tis an excellent quallitie to bee balde; for and there stucke a nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vnder one hood. As God saue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am sure the best and tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire is a scuruie lowsie commodity. Bubo, heerein you blaze your ignorance. Pray stop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares. For▪ if of all the bodies parts, the head Be the most royall: if discourse, wt, Iudgement, And all our vnderstanding faculties, Sit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting lawes to sway this humorous world: This little Ile of Man: needes must that crowne, Which stands vpon this supreame head, he faire, And helde inualuable, and that crowne's the Haire: The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is hare in nae and in authority. Hemeanes balde-pates mistris Miniers. Haire, tis the roabe which curious nature weaues, To hang vpon the head: and does adorne, Our bodies in the first houre we are horne: God does bestow that garment: when we dye, That (like a soft and silken Cano) Is still spred ouer vs; n spight of death Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty's gone. The excellence of Haire, in this shines lere, That the foure Elments take pride to weare The fashion of it: when Fire most bright does burne, The flames to golden lockes doe striue to ▪ When her lasciuious armes the Water hurles, About the shoares wast, her sleeke head she curles: And rorid cloudes being suckt into the Ayre, When downe they melt, hangs like fine siluer hayre. You see the Earth (whose head so oft it shone) Frighted to feele her lockes sorudely orne, Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraid) Turnes euery haire to a greene naked blade. Besides, when (strucke with grefe) we long to dye, We spoile that most, which most does beaufie, We rnd this Head-tyre off. I thus conclude, Cullors set cullors out; our eyes iudge right, Of vice or vertue by their opposite: So, if faire haire to beauty ad such grace, Baldnes must needes be vgly, vile and base. True M. Horace, for a bald reason, is a reason that has no haires vpon't, a scuruy scalded reason. By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt such srange things out of haire before. Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes too't. Troth I shall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed man for this, what shift so euer I make.