Udall, Nicholas · published 1562 · first performed or written 1537 [Oct 12-24] (Annals) comedy unassigned nearest T35 Fools, wit and railing · 465 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
Gods passion Mulciber where is thy wit & memory I would have a salad made of steel Why sir▪ in your stomach long you shall it feel For steel is hard for to digest Man's bones and sides he is worse than a be'st I would have a salad to were on my head Which under my chin with a thong red buckled shall be Dost thou yet perceive me your mind now I see Why thou peevish lad Art thou almost mad Or well in thy wit Get the a wallette Would thou have a sallette What wouldest thou do with it I pray the good Mulciber make no more bones But let me have a salad made at ones. I must do somewhat for this knave What manner of sallet sir would ye have. I would have such a one that neither might nor main should pierce it thorough, or part it in twain Which neither gonst one, nor sharp spear Should be able other to hurt or tear I would have it also for to save my head if Iupiter himself would have me dead And if he in a fume, would cast at me his fire This salad I would have to keep me from his ire. I perceive your mind. ye shall find me kind I will for you prepare Here Thersites do this salad wear And on thy head it bear And none shall work the care Now would I not fear with any bull to fight Or with a raumpinge lion neither by day nor night O What great strength is in my body so lusty Which for lack of exercise, is now almost rusty Hercules in comparison to me was but a boy When the bandog Cerberus from hell he bore away When he killed the lions, hydra, and the bear so wild Compare him to me and he was but a child Why Samson I say, hast thou no more wit wouldest thou be as strong as I? come suck thy mother's tytte Ween you that David that little elfish boy Should with his sling have take my life away Nay iwis Golyath, for all his five stones I would have quashed his little boyish bones O how it would do my heart much good To see some of the giants before Noes flood I would make the knaves to cryecreke Or else with my club their brains I will break But Mulciber, yet I have not with the do My head is armed, my neck I would have to And also my shoulders with some good habergyn That the devil if he shoot at me could not enter in For I am determined great battle to make Except my fumishenes, by some means may assake.
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)
¶ Goddes passion Mulciber where is thy wit & memory I wolde haue a sallet made of stele ¶ Whye syr▪ in youre stomacke longe you shall it fele For stele is harde for to digest ¶ Mans bones and sydes hee is worse then a beest I wolde haue a sallet to were on my hed Whiche vnder my chyn wt a thonge red Buckeled shall be Doest thou yet parceyue me ¶ your mynde now I se Why thou peuysshe ladde Arte thou almost madde Or well in thy wytte Gette the a wallette Wolde thou haue a sallette What woldest thou do with it ¶ I pray the good Mulciber make no mo bones But let me haue a sallet made at ones. ¶ I must do somewhat for this knaue What maner of fallet syr woulde ye haue. ¶ I wold haue such a one that nother might nor mayne shoulde perse it thorowe, or parte it in twayne Whiche nother gonst one, nor sharpe speare Shoulde be able other to hurte or teare I woulde haue it also for to saue my heade yf Iupiter him selfe woulde haue me dead And if he in a fume, woulde cast at me his fire This sallet I woulde haue to kepe me from his yre. ¶ I perceaue youre mynde. ye shall fynde me kynde I wyll for you prepare Here Thersites do this sallet weare And on thy head it beare And none shall worke the care ¶ Now woulde I not feare with anye bull to fyghte Or with a raumpinge lyon nother by daye nor nyghte O What greate strength is in my body so lusty Whiche for lacke of exercise, is nowe almost rustye Hercules in comparison to me was but a boye When the bandogge Cerberus from hell he bare awaye When he kylled the lyons, hydra, and the bere so wylde Compare him to me and he was but a chylde Why Sampson I saye, hast thou no more wytte woldest yu be as strōg as I? come suck thy mothers tytte Wene you that Dauid that lyttle eluyshe boye Should with his slinge haue take my life awaye Nay ywys Golyath, for all his fyue stones I woulde haue quashed his little boysshe bones O howe it woulde do my harte muche good To se some of the giauntes before Noes floud I woulde make the knaues to cryecreke Or elles with my clubbe their braynes I wyll breake But Mulciber, yet I haue not with the do My heade is armed, my necke I woulde haue to And also my shoulders with some good habergyn That the deuyll if he shote at me coulde not enter in For I am determined greate battayle to make Excepte my fumishenes, by some meanes may assake.