Shakespeare, William · published 1603 · first performed or written 1601 [1600-1601] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · at University unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 501 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Alas, what change is this? But if thou wilt needs many, marry a fool, For wisemen know well enough, What monsters you make of them, to a Nunnery go. Pray God restore him▪ Nay, I have heard of your paintings too, God hath given you one face, And you make yourselves another, You fig, and you amble, and you nickname God's creatures, Making your wantonness, your ignorance, A pox, 'tis scurvy, I'll no more of it, It hath made me mad: I'll no more marriages, All that are married but one, shall live, The rest shall keep as they are, to a Nunnery go, To a Nunnery go. Great God of heaven, what a quick change is this? The Courtier, Scholar, Soldier, all in him, All dashed and splinterd thence, O woe is me, To a seen what I have seen, see what I see. Love? No, no, that's not the cause, Some deeper thing it is that troubles him. Well, something it is: my Lord, content you a while, I will myself go feel him: let me work, I'll try him every way: see where he comes, Send you those Gentlemen, let me alone To find the depth of this, away, be gone. Now my good Lord, do you know me? Yea very well, y'are a fishmonger. Not I my Lord. Then sir, I would you were so honest a man, For to be honest, as this age goes, Is one man to be picked out of ten thousand. What do you read my Lord? Words, words. What's the matter my Lord? Between who? I mean the matter you read my Lord. Mary most vile heresy: For here the Satirical Satire writes, That old men have hollow eyes, weak backs, Grey beards, pitiful weak hams, gouty legs, All which sir, I most potently believe not: For sir, yourself shallbe old as I am, If like a Crab, you could go backward. How pregnant his replies are, and full of wit: Yet at first he took me for a fishmonger: All this comes by love, the vemencie of love, And when I was young, I was very idle, And suffered much ecstasy in love, very near this: Will you walk out of the air my Lord? Into my grave. By the mass that's out of the air indeed, Very shrewd answers, My lord I will take my leave of you. You can take nothing from me sir, I will more willingly part with all, Old doting fool. You seek Prince Hamlet, see, there he is. Health to your Lordship. What, Gilderstone, and Rossencraft, Welcome kind Schoolfellows to Elsanoure. We thank your Grace, and would be very glad You were as when we were at Wittenberg. I thank you, but is this visitation free of Yourselves, or were you not sent for? Tell me true, come, I know the good King and Queen Sent for you, there is a kind of confession in your eye: Come, I know you were sent for.
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)
Alas, what change is this? But if thou wilt needes many, marry a foole, For wisemen know well enough, What monsters you make of them, to a Nunnery goe. Pray God restore him▪ Nay, I haue heard of your paintings too, God hath giuen you one face, And you make your selues another, You fig, and you amble, and you nickname Gods creatures, Making your wantonnesse, your ignorance, A pox, t'is scuruy, Ile no more of it, It hath made me madde: Ile no more marriages, All that are married but one, shall liue, The rest shall keepe as they are, to a Nunnery goe, To a Nunnery goe. Great God of heauen, what a quicke change is this? The Courtier, Scholler, Souldier, all in him, All dasht and splinterd thence, O woe is me, To a seene what I haue seene, see what I see. Loue? No, no, that's not the cause, Some deeper thing it is that troubles him. Wel, something it is: my Lord, content you a while, I will my selfe goe feele him: let me worke, Ile try him euery way: see where he comes, Send you those Gentlemen, let me alone To finde the depth of this, away, be gone. Now my good Lord, do you know me? Yea very well, y'are a fishmonger. Not I my Lord. Then sir, I would you were so honest a man, For to be honest, as this age goes, Is one man to be pickt out of tenne thousand. What doe you reade my Lord? Wordes, wordes. What's the matter my Lord? Betweene who? I meane the matter you reade my Lord. Mary most vile heresie: For here the Satyricall Satyre writes, That olde men haue hollow eyes, weake backes, Grey beardes, pittifull weake hammes, gowty legges, All which sir, I most potently beleeue not: For sir, your selfe shalbe olde as I am, If like a Crabbe, you could goe backeward. How pregnant his replies are, and full of wit: Yet at first he tooke me for a fishmonger: All this comes by loue, the vemencie of loue, And when I was yong, I was very idle, And suffered much extasie in loue, very neere this: Will you walke out of the aire my Lord? Into my graue. By the masse that's out of the aire indeed, Very shrewd answers, My lord I will take my leaue of you. You can take nothing from me sir, I will more willingly part with all, Olde doating foole. You seeke Prince Hamlet, see, there he is. Health to your Lordship. What, Gilderstone, and Rossencraft, Welcome kinde Schoole-fellowes to Elsanoure. We thanke your Grace, and would be very glad You were as when we were at Wittenberg. I thanke you, but is this visitation free of Your selues, or were you not sent for? Tell me true, come, I know the good King and Queene Sent for you, there is a kinde of confession in your eye: Come, I know you were sent for.