Lingua, or The Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority · chunk 2 of 51
Tomkis, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1607 [1602-1607] (Annals) comedy; allegory unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 492 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Lingua thy feeble sex, Hath hitherto withheld my ready hands That longed to pluck that nimble instrument, O horrible ingratitude? that thou, That thou of all the rest shouldst threaten me: Who by my means conceiust as many tongues, As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his arms; The ancient Hebrew clad with mysteries, The learned Greek rich in fit Epithets. Blessed in the lovely marriage of pure words, The Caldy wise, the Arabian Physical, The Roman Eloquent, and Tuscan grave, The Braving Spanish and the smooth-tongd French, These precious jewels that adorn thine ears. All from my mouths rich Cabinet are stolen, How oft hast thou been chained unto my tongue. Hanged at my lips and ravished with my words, So that a speech fair feathered could not fly: But thy ears pitfall caught it instantly, But now O Heavens. O heavens thou wrong'st me much, Thou wrong'st me much thus falsely to upbraid me: Had not I granted thee the use of hearing, That sharp edged tongue whetted against her master, Those puffing lungs, those teeth those dropsy lips, That scalding throat those nostrils full of ire▪ Thy palate proper instruments of speech, Like to the winged chanters of the wood, Uttering nought else but idle siflements, Tunes without sense, words inarticulate: Had near been able to ' have abused me thus. Words are thy Children but of my begetting. Perfidious Liar how can I endure thee, Callest my unspotted chastity in Question: O could I use the Breath mine anger spends, 'd'd make thee know. heavens look on my distress, defend me from this railing viperesle: For if I stay her words sharp vinigar, Will feet me through, Lingua I must be gone: I hear one call me more than earnestly. Nay the loud cannoning of thunderbolts, Shrieking of Wolves, howling of tortured Ghosts Pursue thee still and fill thy amazed ears With cold astonishment and horrid fears: O how these senses mufftle common sense: And 〈◊〉, and more with pleasing objects strive, To dull his judgement and prevert his will To their behests, who were he not so wrapped I' the dus●kie clouds of their dark policies, Would never suffer right to suffer wrong, Fie Lingua wilt thou now degenerate: Art not a woman, dost not love revenge, Delightful speeches, sweet persuasions I have this long time used to get my right, My right that is to make the Senses six; And have both name and power with the rest. Oft have I seasoned savoury periods, With sugared words, to delude Gustus' taste, And oft embellished my entreative phrase With smelling flowers of vernant Rhetoric, Limming and flashing it with various Dyes, To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes: And oft perfumed my petitory style, With Civet-speach, t'entrap Olfactus' Nose, And clad my self in Silken Eloquence, To allure the nicer touch of Tactus hand, But all's become lost labour, and my cause Is still procrastinated; therefore now,
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)
Lingua thy feeble sexe, Hath hither-to with-held my ready hands That longd to plucke that nimble instrument, O horrible ingratitude? that thou, That thou of all the rest shouldst threaten me: Who by my meanes conceiust as many tongues, As Neptune closeth lands betwixt his armes; The ancient Hebrewe clad with misteries, The learned Greeke rich in fit Epithites. Blest in the louely marriage of pure words, The Caldy wise, the Arabian Physicall, The Romaine Eloquent, and Tuscane graue, The Brauing Spanish and the smooth-tongd French, These pretious Iewells that adorne thine eares. All from my mouthes rich Cabbinet are stolne, How ost hast thou beene chaind vnto my tongue. Hang'd at my lips and rauisht with my words, So that a speech faire fetherd could not flie: But thy eaes pit-fall caught it instantly, But now O Heauens. O heauens thou wrongst me much, Thou wrongst me much thus falsely to vpbraide me: Had not I ganted thee the vse of hearing, That sharpe edg'd tounge whetted against her maister, Those pussing lungs, those teeth those dropsie lippes, That scaling throate those nosthrils full of ire▪ Thy pallate proper instruments of speech, Like to the winged chanters of the wood, Vttring nought els but idle siflements, Tunes without sense, words inarticulate: Had neere beene able to 'haue abus'd me thus. Words are thy Children but of my begetting. Perfidious Liar how can I endue thee, Cal'st my vnspotted chastity in Question: O could I vse te Beath mine anger spends, Ide make thee knowe. Heauens looke on my distresse, Desend me from this rayling viperesle: For if I stay her words sharpe vinigar, Will feet me through, Lingua I must be gone: I heare one cal me more then earnestly. Nay the loud cannoning of thunder-boults, Screeking of Wolues, houling of tortur'd Ghoss Pursue thee still and fill thy amazed eaes With cold astonishment and horrid feares: O how these senses mufftle common sense: And , and more with pleasing obiects striue, To dull his iudgement and preuert his will To their be-hests, who were he not so wrapt I' the duskie cloudes of their darke pollicies, VVould neuer suffer right to suffer wronge, Fie Lingua wilt thou now degenerate: Art not a woman, doost not loue reuenge, Delightfull speeches, sweet perswasions I haue this long time vsd to get my right, My right that is to make the Senses sixe; And haue both name and power with the rest. Oft haue I seasoned sauorie periods, With sugred words, to delude Gustus taste, And oft embelisht my entreatiue phrase With smelling flowres of vernant Rhetorique, Limming and flashing it with various Dyes, To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes: And oft perfum'd my petitory stile, With Ciuet-speach, t'entrap Olfactus Nose, And clad my sele in Silken Eloquence, To allure the nicer touch of Tactus hand, But all's become lost labour, and my cause Is still procrastinated; therefore now,