Shakespeare, William · published 1623 · first performed or written 1605 [1605-1606] (Annals) tragedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 483 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
When were you wont to be so full of Songs sirrah? I have used it Nuncle, ere since thou mad'st thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gav'st them the rod, and puttest down thine own breeches, than they For sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a King should play bopeep, And go the Fool among. Prie ' thy Nuncle keep a Schoolmaster that can teach thy Fool to lie, I would fain learn to lie. And you lie sirrah, we'll have you whipped. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'll have me whipped for speaking true: thou'lt have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a fool, and yet I would not be thee Nuncle, thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing i' th' middle; here comes one o' the parings. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much of late i' th' frown. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O without a figure, I am better than thou art now, I am a Fool, thou art nothing. Yes forsooth I will hold my tongue, so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, he that keeps nor crust, not crumb, Weary of all, shall want some. That's a shealed Peascod. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenced Fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and Quarrel, breaking forth In rank, and (not to be endured) riots Sir. I had thought by making this well known unto you, To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful By what yourself too late have spoke and done, That you protect this course, and put it on By your allowance, which if you should, the fault Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, Which in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that offence, Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding. For you know Nuncle, the Hedge-Sparrow fed the Cuckoo so long, that it's had it head bitten off by it young, so out went the Candle, and we were left darkling. Are you our Daughter? I would you would make use of your good wisdom (Whereof I know you are fraught) and put away These dispositions, which of late transport you From what you rightly are. May not an Ass know, when the Cart draws the Horse? Whoop jug I love thee. Does any here know me? This is not Lear: Does Lear walk thus? Speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his Notion weakens, his Discern Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not so? Who is it that can tell me who I am?
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)
When were you wont to be ſo full of Songs ſirrah? I haue vſed it Nunckle, ere ſince thou mad'ſt thy Daughters thy Mothers, for when thou gau'ſt them the rod, and put'ſt downe thine owne breeches, then they For ſodaine ioy did weepe, And I for ſorrow ſung, That ſuch a King ſhould play bo-peepe, And goe the Foole among. Pry' thy Nunckle keepe a Schoolemaſter that can teach thy Foole to lie, I would faine learne to lie. And you lie ſirrah, wee'l haue you whipt. I maruell what kin thou and thy daughters are, they'l haue me whipt for ſpeaking true: thou'lt haue me whipt for lying; and ſometimes I am whipt for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing then a foole, and yet I would not be thee Nunckle, thou haſt pared thy wit o' both ſides, and left nothing i' th' middle; heere comes one o' the parings. How now Daughter? what makes that Frontlet on? You are too much of late i' th' frowne. Thou waſt a pretty fellow when thou hadſt no need to care for her frowning, now thou art an O without a figure, I am better then thou art now, I am a Foole, thou art nothing. Yes forſooth I will hold my tongue, ſo your face bids me, though you ſay nothing. Mum, mum, he that keepes nor cruſt, not crum, Weary of all, ſhall want ſome. That's a ſheal'd Peſcod. Not only Sir this, your all-lycenc'd Foole, But other of your inſolent retinue Do hourely Carpe and Quarrell, breaking forth In ranke, and (not to be endur'd) riots Sir. I had thought by making this well knowne vnto you, To haue found a ſafe redreſſe, but now grow fearefull By what your ſelfe too late haue ſpoke and done, That you protect this courſe, and put it on By your allowance, which if you ſhould, the fault Would not ſcape cenſure, nor the redreſſes ſleepe, Which in the tender of a wholeſome weale, Might in their working do you that offence, Which elſe were ſhame, that then neceſſitie Will call diſcreet proceeding. For you know Nunckle, the Hedge-Sparrow fed the Cuckoo ſo long, that it's had it head bit off by it young, ſo out went the Candle, and we were left darkling. Are you our Daughter? I would you would make vſe of your good wiſedome (Whereof I know you are fraught) and put away Theſe diſpoſitions, which of late tranſport you From what you rightly are. May not an Aſſe know, when the Cart drawes the Horſe? Whoop Iugge I loue thee. Do's any heere know me? This is not Lear: Do's Lear walke thus? Speake thus? Where are his eies? Either his Notion weakens, his Diſcernings Are Lethargied. Ha! Waking? 'Tis not ſo? Who is it that can tell me who I am?