Anonymous · published 1607 · first performed or written 1602 [1601-1602] (Annals) comedy · Unknown T35 Fools, wit and railing typicality 0.75 · 495 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Why, thinkst thou that I cannot write a letter, Ditty, or Sonnet with judicial phrase, As pretty, pleasing, and pathetical, As the best ovid-imitating dance In all the town. I think thou canst not. Yea, i'll swear I cannot, Yet sirrah, I could coney-catch the world, Make myself famous for a sudden wit, And be admired for my dexterity, Were I disposed. I pray thee how. Why thus there lived a Poet in this town, (If we may term our modern Writers Poets) Sharp-witted, bitter-tongued, his pen of steel, His ink was tempered with the biting juice, And extracts of the bitter'st weeds that grew, He never wrote but when the elements Of Fire and Water tilted in his brain: This fellow ready to give up his ghost To Lucia's bosom, did bequeath to me His Library, which was just nothing, But rolls, and scrolls, and bundles of cast wit, Such as durst never visit Paul's churchyard: Amongst them all, I happened on a choir Or two of paper filled with Songs and Ditties, And here and there a hungry Epigram, These I reserve to my own proper use, And Pater-noster-like have conned them all. I could now when I am in company, At ale house, tavern, or an ordinary, Upon a theme make an extemporal ditty, (Or one at least should seem extemporal) Out of th'abundance of this Legacy, That all would judge it, and report it too, To be the infant of a sudden wit, And then were I an admirable fellow. This were a piece of cunning. I could do more, for I could make inquiry Where the best witted Gallants use to dine, Follow them to the tavern, and there sit In the next room with a calves head and brimstone, And over hear their talk, observe their humours, Collect their jests, put them into a play, And tire them too with payment to behold What I have filched from them. This I could do: But O for shame that men should so arraign Their own fee simple wits, for verbal theft! Yet men there be that have done this and that, And more by much more than the most of them. But to our purpose Cripple to these letters. I have them ready for you, here they be, Give these to your two brothers, say that Phillis Delivered them with frowns, and though her name Be not subscribed (which may not well be done) It may perhaps give them occasion To think she scorned them so much grace and favour. This done, return to me, and let me know Th'occurrants of this practice as they grow, And so farewell, I can no longer stand To talk with you, I have some work in hand. Farewell mad Cripple, now Frank Golding sly, To put in practise this new policy: But soft, here comes the Maid, I will assay To plead my own love by a stranger way, By your leave sir.
nodes 1229–1294 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 22 of 41 in this edition
Length
495 words · 654 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T35 — Fools, wit and railingcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.752 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
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)
Why, thinkst thou that I cannot write a letter, Ditty, or Sonnet with iudiciall phrase, As pretty, pleasing, and patheticall, As the best Ouid-immitating dance In all the towne. I thinke thou canst not. Yea, ile sweare I cannot, Yet sirra, I could conny-catch the world, Make my selfe famous for a sodaine wit, And be admirde for my dexteritie, Were I disposde. I pre thee how. Why thus there liu'd a Poet in this towne, (If we may terme our moderne Writers Poets) Sharpe-witted, bitter-tongd, his penne of steele, His incke was temperd with the biting iuyce, And extracts of the bitterst weedes that grew, He neuer wrote but when the elements Of Fire and Water tilted in his braine: This fellow ready to giue vp his ghost To Luciaes bosome, did bequeathe to me His Library, which was iust nothing, But rolles, and scrolles, and bundles of cast wit, Such as durst neuer visit Paules churchyard: Amongst them all, I happened on a quire Or two of paper filld with Songs and Ditties, And heere and there a hungry Epigramme, These I reserue to my owne proper vse, And Pater-noster-like haue kon'd them all. I could now when I am in company, At ale house, tauerne, or an ordinarie, Vpon a theame make an extemporall ditty, (Or one at least should seeme extemporall) Out of th'aboundance of this Legacie, That all would judge it, and report it too, To be the infant of a sodaine wit, And then were I an admirahle fellow. This were a peece of cunning. I could doe more, for I could make enquirie Where the best witted Gallants vse to dine, Follow them to the tauerne, and there sit In the next rowme with a calues head and brimstone, And ouer heare their talke, obserue their humours, Collect their jeasts, put them into a play, And tire them too with payment to behold What I haue filcht from them. This I could doe: But O for shame that men should so arraigne Their owne fee simple wits, for verball theft! Yet men there be that haue done this and that, And more by much more than the most of them. But to our purpose Cripple to these letters. I haue them ready for you, heere they be, Giue these to your two brothers, say that Phillis Deliuered them with frownes, and though her name Be not subscribde (which may not well be done) It may perhaps giue them occasion To thinke she scornd them so much grace and fauour. This done, returne to me, and let me know Th'occurrants of this prastise as they growe, And so farewell, I can no longer stand To talke with you, I haue some worke in hand. Farewell mad Cripple, now Franke Golaing slie, To put in practise this new pollicie: But soft, heere comes the Maide, I wil assay To pleade my owne loue by a stranger way, By your leaue sir.