Histriomastix, or The Player Whipped · chunk 2 of 25
Marston, John · published 1610 · first performed or written 1599 [1598-1599] (Annals) moral · Unknown T35 Fools, wit and railing typicality 0.66 · 508 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T35: fool, wit, aristippus, achilles, wise, fools, patroclus, thersites, master, men.
But if (by Art) as all our Artists say, There is no real truth to be attained, Why should we labour in their loves bestow? The wisest said: I know I nothing know, The wisest was a fool for saying so: That Oracle pronounced wise Socrates: For do I know I see you, or the light? Or do you know you hear me, or I touch you? All this we needs must know assuredly. If this be certain then which comes from sense, The knowledge proper to the soul is truer; For that pure knowledge by the which we know A thing to be, with true cause how it is, Is more exact than that which knows it is, And reacheth not to knowledge of the cause. Besides; that knowledge (that considers things Abjunct from sencive matter) is exacter Then that which joins itself with elements; Arithmetic ever considers numbers Abstract from sencive matter: Music still Considers it with sense, as mixed with sound: Therefore arithmetic is more exact, And more exact than is Geometry: Since unitas is still simplicior puncto, And number simpler than is magnitude. For unitas may still be sine puncto, But Punctus never without Unity, Nor; Magnitudo sine Numero. Dum (enim) punctus ponitur, ponitur (ex necessitate) unitas. But all this proves not we may know a truth. If we have this we call Scientia, We must have truth of mere necessity, For Acribeia doth not signify, Only a certainty in that we know, But certainty with all perfection. Although I am not satisfied in this, It doth me good to hear him thus discourse. My Lords, let's betake us to our studies. In nothing am I better pleased, let's go. The nut-brown ale, the nutbrown ale, Puts down all drink when it is stale, The toast, the Nutmeg, and the ginger, Will make a sighing man a singer. Ale gives a buffet in the head, But ginger underprops the brain: When ale would strike a strong man dead, Then nutmeg tempers it again, The nutbrown ale, the nutbrown ale, Puts down all drink when it is stale. This Peace breeds such Plenty, trades serve no turns The more fools we to follow them. Let's make up a company of Players, For we can all sing and say, And so (with practice) soon may learn to play. True, could our action answer your extempore. I'll teach ye to play true Politicians. Why those are th'falsest subtle fellows lives. I pray sir, what titles have travailing Players? Why proper-fellows, they play Lords and Kings, What parts would best become us (sir) I pray? Faith to play Rogues, till we be bound for running away. Content; Scrivener, hoe, You must tie a knot of Knaves together. Your appellations? Your names he means; the man's learned. I Belch the Beard-maker. I Gut the Fiddle-string-maker. I Incle the peddler. I Master Posthast the Poet. Your nomenclature? O stately Scrivener, that's where dwell ye? Townsmen, townsmen all. The Obligatories Condition? Politician Players. But whose men are we all this while:
nodes 72–146 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 2 of 25 in this edition
Length
508 words · 710 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T35 — Fools, wit and railingcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.658 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T58 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
But if (by Art) as all our Artist say, There is no reall truth to be attain'd, Why should wee labour in their loues bestow? The wisest said: I know I nothing know, The wisest was a foole for saying soe: That Oracle pronounc'd wise Socrates: For doe I know I see you, or the light? Or do you know you heere mee, or I touch you? All this wee needes must know assuredly. If this bee certaine then which comes from sence, The knowledg proper to the soule is truer; For that pure knowledg by the which wee know A thing to bee, with true cause how it is, Is more exact then that which knowes it is, And reacheth not to knowledge of the cause. Besides; that knowledge (that considers things Abiunct from senciue matter) is exacter Then that which ioynes it selfe with elements; Arithmetick euer considers numbers Abstract from senciue matter: Musick still Considers it with sence, as mixt with sound: Therefore Arithmeticque is more exact, And more exact then is Geometrie: Since vnitas is still simplicior puncto, And number simpler then is magnitude. For Vnitas may still be sine puncto, But Punctus neuer without Vnitie, Nor; Magnitudo sine Numero. Dum (enim) punctus ponitur, ponitur (ex necessitate) vnitas. But all this prooues not wee may know a truth. If wee haue this wee call Scientia, We must haue truth of meere necessity, For Acriueia doth not signifie, Onely a certainty in that wee know, But certainty with all perfection. Although I am not satisfied in this, It doth me good to heare him thus discourse. My Lords, let's betake vs to our studies. In nothing am I better pleas'd, let's goe. The nut-brwne ale, the nut-browne ale, Puts downe all drinke when it is stale, The toast, the Nut-meg, and the ginger, Will make a sighing man a singer. Ale giues a buffet in the head, But ginger vnder-proppes the brayne: When ale would strike a strong man dead, Then nut-megge tempers it againe, The nut-browne ale, the nut-browne ale, Puts downe all drinke when it is stale. This Peace breeds such Plenty, trades serue no tunes The more sooles wee to follow them. Lett's make vp a company of Players, For we can all sing and say, And so (with practise) soone may learne to play. True, could our action answer your extempore. I'le teach yee to play true Politicians. Why those are th'falsest subtle fellowes liues. I pray sir, what titles haue trauailing Players? Why proper-fellowes, they play Lords and Kings, What parts would best become vs (sir) I pray? Faith to play Roagues, till wee bee bound for running away. Content; Scriuener, hoe, You must tye a knott of Knaues togither. Your appellations? Your names he meanes; the man's learn'd. I Belch the Beard-maker. I Gutt the Fiddle-string-maker. I Incle the Pedler. I Maister Posthast the Poet. Your nomenclature? O stately Scriuener, thats wher dwell yee? Townesmen, townesmen all. The Obligatories Condition? Politician Players. But whose men are wee all this while: