Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1606 [1605-1606] (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 506 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Make their revenue out of legs, and faces, Echo Mylord, and lick away a moth: But your fine, elegant rascal, that can rise, And stoop (almost together) like an arrow; Shoot through the air, as nimbly as a star; Turn short, as doth a swallow; and be here, And there, and here, and yonder, all at once; Present to any humour, all occasion; And change a visor, swifter, than a thought! This is the creature, had the art borne with him; Toils not to learn it, but doth practise it Out of most excellent nature: and such sparks, Are the true Parasites, others but their zanies. WHo's this? BONARIO? old CORBACCIO's son? The person I was bound to seek. Fair sir, You are haply met. That cannot be, by thee. Why, sir? Nay 'pray thee know thy way, & leave me: I would be loath to interchange discourse, With such a mate, as thou art. Courteous sir, Scorn not my poverty. Not I, by heaven: But thou shalt give me leave to hate thy baseness. Baseness? ay, answer me, is not thy sloth Sufficient argument? thy flattery? Thy means of feeding? Heaven, be good to me. These imputations are too common, sir, And easily stuck on virtue, when she's poor; You are unequal to me, and howe'er Your sentence may be righteous, yet you are not, That ere you know me, thus, proceed in censure: St. Mark bear witness 'gainst you, 'tis inhuman. What? does he weep? the sign is soft, and good! I do repent me, that I was so harsh. 'Tis true, that, swayed by strong necessity, I am enforced to eat my careful bread With too much obsequy; 'tis true, beside, That I am feign to spin mine own poor raiment, Out of my mere observance, being not borne To a free fortune: but that I have done Base offices, in rending friends asunder, Dividing families, betraying counsels, Whispering false lies, or mining men with praises, Trained their credulity with perjuries, Corrupted chastity, or am in love With mine own tender ease, but would not rather Prove the most rugged, and laborious course, That might redeem my present estimation; Let me here perish, in all hope of goodness. This cannot be a personated passion! I was to blame, so to mistake thy nature; Pray thee forgive me: and speak out thy business. Sir, it concerns you; and though I may seem, At first, to make a main offence, in manners, And in my gratitude, unto my master, Yet, for the pure love, which I bear all right, And hatred of the wrong, I must reveal it. This very hour, your father is in purpose To disinherit you— How! And thrust you forth, As a mere stranger to his blood; 'tis true, sir: The work no way engageth me, but, as I claim an interest in the general state Of goodness, and true virtue, which I hear T'abound in you: and, for which mere respect, Without a second aim, sir, I have done it.
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)
Make their reuennue out of legs, and faces, Eccho my-Lord, and lick away a moath: But your fine, elegant rascall, that can rise, And stoope (almost together) like an arrow; Shoot through the aire, as nimbly as a starre; Turne short, as doth a swallow; and be here, And there, and here, and yonder, all at once; Present to any humour, all occasion; And change a visor, swifter, then a thought! This is the creature, had the art borne with him; Toiles not to learne it, but doth practise it Out of most excellent nature: and such sparkes, Are the true Parasites, others but their Zant's. WHo's this? BONARIO? old CORBACCIO's sonne? The person I was bound to seeke. Faire sir, You are happ'ly met. That cannot be, by thee. Why, sir? Nay 'pray thee know thy way, & leaue me: I would be loth to inter-change discourse, With such a mate, as thou art. Courteous sir, Scorne not my pouertie. Not I, by heauen: But thou shalt giue me leaue to hate thy basenesse. Basenesse? I, answere me, is not thy sloth Sufficient argument? thy flatterie? Thy meanes of feeding? Heauen, be good to me. These imputations are too common, sir, And eas'ly stuck on vertue, when shee's poore; You are vnequall to me, and how ere Your sentence may be righteous, yet you are not, That ere you know me, thus, proceed in censure: St. MARKE beare witnesse 'gainst you, 'tis inhumane. What? do's he weepe? the signe is soft, and good! I doe repent me, that I was so harsh. 'Tis true, that, sway'd by strong necessitie, I am enforc'd to eate my carefull bread With too much obsequie; 'tis true, beside, That I am faine to spin mine owne poore rayment, Out of my mere obseruance, being not borne To a free fortune: but that I haue done Base offices, in rending friends asunder, Diuiding families, betraying counsells, Whispering false lyes, or mining men with praises, Train'd their credulitie with periuries, Corrupted chastitie, or am in loue With mine owne tender ease, but would not rather Proue the most rugged, and laborious course, That might redeeme my present estimation; Let me here perish, in all hope of goodnesse. This cannot be a personated passion! I was to blame, so to mistake thy nature; 'Pray thee forgiue me: and speake out thy bus'nesse. Sir, it concernes you; and though I may seeme, At first, to make a maine offence, in manners, And in my gratitude, vnto my master, Yet, for the pure loue, which I beare all right, And hatred of the wrong, I must reueale it. This verie houre, your father is in purpose To disinherit you— How! And thrust you forth, As a mere stranger to his bloud; 'tis true, sir: The worke no way ingageth me, but, as I claime an interest in the generall state Of goodnesse, and true vertue, which I heare T'abound in you: and, for which mere respect, Without a second ayme, sir, I haue done it.