Dekker, Thomas · published 1607 · first performed or written 1606 [c.1606-1607] (Annals) history; allegory · Prince Henry's Men T35 Fools, wit and railing typicality 0.79 · 484 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Oh Sir, I have seen many heads under such That scarce had brains to line it: if you're a scholar, Me thinks you should know manners, by your leave Pray leave your name behind you. Sir. Name, Campeius. Campeius! umh: Campeius? a lucky planet strikes out this hour: Campeius Babylon, His name hath in her tables: on his forehead, Our Queen hath set her mark: it is a mould Fit to cast mischief in none sooner rent A Church in two, then scholars discontent. I must not lose this Martin's nest,— once more You're happily met. This burr still hang on me! And you Sir. Tell me pray, did you never tast-I'me bold-did you Those clear & redolent fountains that do nourish, ne'er taste In vive and fresh humidity those plants That grow on tother side (our opposites) Those that to us here, are th' Antipodes, Clean against us in grounds-you feel me-say ne'er drunk you of that nectar. Never. Never! I wish you had, I gather from your eyes, What your disease is, I ha' been yourself, This was Campeius once (thou not so learned) For I was bred (as you) in Fairy Land, A Country! well, but 'tis our country: and so, Good to breed beggars: She starves Arts: farts fools, She sets up drinking rooms, & pulls down schools. So Sir. No more but so Sir? this discourse Not to be searched, or be suspected foul: Make away those 2. turn coats. Suit me next Like to a Satin devil (bravely) fly Your sails shape: be here immediately. So: excellent: a subtle mask: all's fit, This very cap makes my head swell with wit. 'mongst soldiers, I have played the soldier, Been mutinous, railed at the State, cursed peace: They walk with crosse-armes, gaping for a day, Have under-shorde their eyelids (like trap windows.) To keep them open, and with yawning ears, Lie listening on flock bolsters, till rebellion Beat up her drum: this lards me fat with laughter, Their swords are drawn half way, & all those throats That are to bleed are marked: and all those doors, Where civil Massacres, murders (died in grain) Spoil, rifle, and sweet ravishments shall enter, Have tokens stamped on them (to make'em known) More dreadful than the Bills that preach the plague: From them, with oiled hams (lapped in servile blue) I stole, and filled out wine of Babylon, To live things (made of clods) poor country sots, And drunk they are: whole shires with it do reel, Poisons run smooth, because men sweetness feel. Now to my schoolmen, Learning's fort is strong, But poorly manned, and cannot hold out long When golden bullets batter.— Yonder's one— You're a poor scholar? Yes. What read you? A book. So learned, yet so young? Ye may see Sir. You feed some discontent? Perhaps I ha' cause. What troubles you? You trouble me: pray leave me.
nodes 928–997 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 16 of 43 in this edition
Length
484 words · 686 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T35 — Fools, wit and railingcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.792 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T9 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Oh Sir, I haue seene many heads vnder such That scarce had braines to line it: if y'are a scholler, Mee thinks you should know manners, by your leaue Pray leae your name behind you. Sir. Name, Campeius. Campeius! vmh: Campeius? a lucky plannet strikes out this houre: Campeius Babylon, His name hath in her tables: on his forehead, Our Queene hath set her marke: it is a mould Fit to cast mischeife in none sooner rent A Church in two, then Schollers discontent. I must not loose this Martines nest,—once more Y'are happely met. This bur stil hang on mee! And you Sir. Tell me pray, did you neuer tast-I'me bold-did you Those cleere & redolent fountains that do norish, nee'r tast In viue and fresh humiditie those plants That grow on thother side (our opposites) Those that to vs here, are th' Antipodes, Cleane against vs in grounds-you feele me-say Ne're drunke you of that nectar. Neuer. Neuer! I wish you had, I gather from your eyes, VVhat your disease is, I h bin your selfe, This was Campeius once (thō not so learn'd) For I was bred (as you) in Fairy Land, A Country! well▪ but tis our country: and so, Good to breed beggers: Shee starues Arts▪ fats fools, Shee sets vp drinking roomes, & pulls downe schools. So Sir. No more but so Sir? this discourse Not to be search'd, or be suspected fowle: Make away those 2. turne coates. Suite me next Like to a Sattin diuell (brauely) flie Your sayles shape: be here immediatly. So: excellent: a subtile masque: alls fit, This very cap makes my head swell with wit. Mongst souldiers, I haue plaid the souldier, Bin mutinous, raild at the State, cursd peace: They walke with crosse-armes, gaping for a day, Haue vnder-shorde their eie-lids (like trap windows.) To keep them open, and with yawning eares, Lie listning on flocke bolsters, till rebellion Beat vp her drum: this lards me fat with laughter, Their swords are drawn halfe way, & all those throats That are to bleed are mark'd: and all those doores, Where ciuill Massacres, murders (di'd in graine) Spoile, riflings, and sweet rauishments shall enter, Haue tokens stamp'd on them (to make'em knowne) More dreadfull then the Bils that preach the plague▪ From them, with oyl'd hammes (lap'd in seruile blew) I stole, and fil'd out wine of Babylon, To liue things (made of clods) poore countrey sots, And drunke they are: whole shires with it do reele, Poysons run smooth, because men sweetnes feele. Now to my schoole-men, Learnings fort is strong, But poorely man'd, and cannot hold out long VVhen golden bullets batter.—Yonders one— Y'are a poore scholler? Yes. VVhat read you? A booke. So learned, yet so young? Yee may see Sir. You feede some discontent? Perhaps I ha cause. VVhat troubles you? You trouble me: pray leaue me.