Anonymous / Marlowe, Christopher · published 1604 · first performed or written 1592 [1592-1593] (Annals) tragedy · Unknown unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 514 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
NOt marching now in fields of Thrasimene, Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians, Nor sporting in the dalliance of love, In courts of Kings where state is overturned, Nor in the pomp of proud audacious deeds, Intends our Muse to daunt his heavenly verse: Only this (Gentlemen) we must perform, The form of Faustus fortunes good or bad. To patient judgements we appeal our plaude, And speak for Faustus in his infancy: Now is he borne, his parents base of stock, In Germany, within a town called Rhodes: Of riper years to Wertenberg he went, Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him up, So soon he profits in Divinity, The fruitful plot of scholarism graced, That shortly he was graced with doctor's name, Excelling all, whose sweet delight disputes In heavenly matters of Theology, Till swollen with cunning of a self conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And melting heavens conspire his overthrow. For falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted more with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon cursed Negromancy, Nothing so sweet as magic is to him Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss, And this the man that in his study sits. Settle thy studies Faustus, and begin To sound the depth of that thou wilt profess: Having commenced, be a Divine in show, Yet level at the end of every Art, And live and die in Aristotle's works: Sweet Analytics 'tis thou hast ravished me, Bene disserere est finis logicis, Is, to dispute well, Logic's chiefest end Affords this Art no greater miracle: Then read no more, thou hast attained the end: A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit, Bid Oncaymaeon farewell, Galen come: Seeing, vbi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus. Be a physician Faustus, heap up gold, And be eternized for some wondrous cure, Summum bonum medicinae sanitas, The end of physic is our Body's health: Why Faustus, hast thou not attained that end? Is not thy common talk sound Aphorisms? Are not thy bills hung up as monuments, whereby whole Cities have escaped the plague, And thousand desperate maladies been eased, Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. wouldst thou make man to live eternally? Or being dead, raise them to life again? Then this profession were to be esteemed. Physic farewell, where is Iustinian? S res legatus duobus, Alter rem alter valorem rei, etc. A pretty case of paltry legacies: Ex nisi: Such is the subject of the institute And universal body of the Church: His study fits a mercenary drudge, who aims at nothing but external trash, The devil and illiberal for me: when all is done, Divinity is best. Ieromes Bible, Faustus, view it well. Stipendium peccati mors est: ha, Stipendium, etc. The reward of sin is death: that's hard. Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, & nulla est in nobis veritas. If we say that we have no sin, We deceive ourselves, and there's no truth in us. Why then belike we must sin, And so consequently die. ay, we must die an everlasting death: What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T34 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
NOt marching now in fields of Thracimene, Where Mars did mate the Carthaginians, Nor sporting in the dalliance of loue, In courts of Kings where state is ouerturnd, Nor in the pompe of prowd audacious deedes, Intends our Muse to daunt his heauenly verse: Onely this (Gentlemen) we must performe, The forme of Faustus fortunes good or bad. To patient Iudgements we appeale our plaude, And speake for Faustus in his infancie: Now is he borne, his parents base of stocke, In Germany, within a towne calld Rhods: Of riper yéeres to Wertenberg he went, Whereas his kinsmen chiefly brought him vp, So soone hée profites in Diuinitie, The fruitfull plot of Scholerisme grac't, That shortly he was grac't with Doctors name, Excelling all, whose swéete delight disputes In heauenly matters of Theologie, Till swlne with cunning of a slfe conceit, His waen wings did mount aboue his reach, And meling heauens conspirde his ouerthrow. For falling to a diuelish exercise, And glutte more with learnings golden gifts, He surffets vpon cursed Negromancy▪ Nothing so sweete as magicke is to him Which he preferres before his chiefest blisse, And this the man that in his study sits. Settle thy studies Faustus, and beginne To sound the deapth o that thou wilt professe: Hauing commencde, be a Diuine in shew, Yet leuell at the end of euery Art, And liue and die in Aristotles workes: Sweete Anulatikes tis thou hast rauisht me, Bene disserere est finis logicis▪ Is, to dispute well, Logickes chiefest end Affoords this Art no greater myracle: Then reade no more, thou hast attaind the end: A greater subiect fitteth Faustus wit, Bid Oncaymaeon farewell, Galen come: Séeing, vbi desinit philosophus, ibi incipit medicus. Be a physition Faustus, heape vp golde, And be eternizde for some wondrous cure, Summum bonum medicinae sanitas, The end of physicke is our bodies health: Why Faustus, hast thou not attaind that end? Is not thy common talke sound Aphorismes? Are not thy billes hung vp as monuments, whereby whole Citties haue escapt the plague, And thousand desprate maladies béene easde, Yet art thou still but Faustus, and a man. wouldst thou make man to liue eternally? Or being dead, raise them to life againe? Then this profession were to be estéemd. Physicke farewell, where is Iustinian? S res legatus duobus, Ater rem alter vlorem rei, &c. A pretty case of paltry legacies: Ex nisi: Such is the subiect of the institute And vniuersall body of the Church: is study fittes a mercenary drudge, who aimes at nothing but externall trash, The deuill and illiberall for me: when all is done, Diuinitie is best. Ieromes Bible, Faustus, view it well. Stipendium peccati mors est: ha, Stipendium, &c. The reward of sinne is death: thas hard. Si peccasse negamus, fallimur, & nulla est in nobis veritas. If we say that we haue no sinne, We deceiue our selues, and theres no truth in vs. Why then belike we must sinne, And so consequently die. I, we must die an eerlasting death: What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera,