Shakespeare, William · published 1609 · first performed or written 1602 [1602-1603] (Annals) tragedy · Lord Chamberlain's (Hunsdon's) Men · Globe T37 Riches, poverty and covetousness typicality 0.83 · 544 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T37: wealth, riches, money, god, rich, poverty, men, learning, poor, ic.
What am I poor of late? 'tis certain, greatness once fallen out with fortune, Must fall out with men too, what the declined is, He shall as soon read in the eyes of others As feel in his own fall: for men like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the Summer, And not a man for being simply man, Hath any honour, but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, riches, and favour, Prizes of accident as oft as merit Which when they fall as being slippery standers, The love that leaned on them as slippery too, Doth one pluck down another, and together, die in the fall, But 'tis not so with me, Fortune and I are friends, I do enjoy: At ample point all that I did possess, Save these men's looks, who do me thinks find out: Some thing not worth in me such rich beholding, As they have often given. Here is Ulysses I'll interrupt his reading, how now Ulysses? Now great Thetis Son. What are you reading? A strange fellow here, Writes me that man, how dearly ever parted: How much in having or without or in Cannot, make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes but by reflections: As when his virtues aiming upon others, Heat them and they retort that heat again. To the first givers. This is not strange Ulysses, The beauty that is borne here in the face: The bearer knows not, but commends itself, To others' eyes, nor doth the eye itself That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself Not going from itself: but eye to eye opposed, Sallutes each other, with each others form, For speculation turns not to itself, Till it hath travelled and is married there? Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all. I do not strain at the position, It is familiar, but at the author's drift, Who in his circumstance expressly proves, That no man is the Lord of any thing: Though in and of him there be much consisting, Till he communicate his parts to others, Nor doth he of himself know them for aught: Till he behold them form in the applause. Where theyare extended: who like an arch reverberate The voice again or like a gate of steel: Fronting the Sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat. I was much rap't in this, And apprehended here immediately, Th'unknown Ajax, heavens what a man is there? A very horse, that has he knows not what Nature what things there are. Most object in regard, and dear in use, What things again most dear in the esteem: And poor in worth, now shall we see to morrow, An act that very chance doth throw upon him Ajax renowned? O heavens what some men do, While some men leave to do. How some men creep in skittish fortunes hall, Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes, How one man eats into another's pride, While pride is fasting in his wantonness. To see these Grecian Lords, why even already: They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder As if his foot were one brave Hector's breast, And great Troy shrieking.
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 1453–1522 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 28 of 50 in this edition
Length
544 words · 689 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T37 — Riches, poverty and covetousnesscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.831 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
seed 43: T35 · seed 44: T34 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
What am I poore of late? Tis certaine, greatnesse once falne out with fortune, Mut fall out with men to, what the declin'd is, He shall as soone reade in the eyes of others As feele in his owne fall: for men like butter-flies, Shew not their mealy wings but to the Summer, And not a m m for being simply man, Hath any honour, but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, ritches, and auour, Prizes of accident as oft as merit Which when they fall as being slipery standers, The loue that lean'd on them as slipery too, Doth one pluck downe anotr, and together, die in the all, But tis not so with mee, Fortune and I are friends, I do enioy: At ample point all that I did posssse, Saue these mens lookes, who do me thinkes fide out: Some thing not worth in me such ritch beholding, As they haue often giuen. Here is Vlisses Ile interrupt his reading, how now Vlisses? Now great Thetis Sonne. What are you reading? A strange fellow here, Writes me that man, how derely euer parted: How much in hauing or without or in Cannt, make bost to haue that which he hath, Nor feeles not what he owes but by reflection As when his vetues ayming vpon others, Heate them and they retort that heate againe. To the first giuers. This is not strange Vlisses, The beauty that is borne here in the face: The bearer knowes not▪ but commends it selfe, To others eyes, nor doth the eye it selfe That most pure spirit of sence, behold it selfe Not going from it selfe: but eye to eye opposed, Sallutes each other, with each others forme▪ For speculation trnes not to it selfe, Till it hath trauel'd and is married there? Where it may see it selfe: this is not strange at all. I do not straine at the position, It is familiar, but at the authors drift, Who in his circumstance expressly prooes, That no man is the Lord of any thing: Though in and of him there be much conisting, Till he communicate his parts to others, Nor doth hee of himselfe know them for aught: Till he behold them formed in the applause. Where th'are extended: who like an arch reuerb 'rate The voice againe or like a gate of steele: ronting the Sunne▪ receiues and renders back His figure and his heate. I was much rap't i this, And apprehended here immediately, Th'vnknowne Aiax, heauens what a man is there? A very horse, that has he knowes not what Nature what things there are. Most obiect in regard, and deere in vse, What things again most deere in the esteeme: And poore in worth, now shall we see to morrow, An act that very chance doth throw vpon him Aix renown'd? O heauens what some men doe, While some men leaue to doe. How some men creepe in skittish fortunes hall, Whiles others play the Ideo in her eyes, How one man eates into anothers pride, While pride is fasting in his wntonesse. To see these Grecian Lords, why euen already: They clap the lubber Aiax on the shoulder As if his foote were one braue Hectors best, And great Troy shriking.